Devil's Kiss (Sunset Cove #2) (2 page)

Jesus, the fucker can hit. He has that skill down to an art form,
Derek thought as he raised a hand to his eye.
That’s gonna leave a goddamn bruise.
There were two things his father excelled at in this life: drinking and fighting. It just so happened the fighting was usually with him.
 

As his dad seethed, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and muttered, “Get out of my sight.”

The words didn’t hurt, not anymore. Derek had grown used to the idea that he disgusted his father. What he would never be able to understand was the stranger glaring at him. It was hard to fathom you could come from such a vile creature filled with so much hatred. Yet at the same time, the physical resemblance was so uncanny it was difficult to refute.
 

Cradling the side of his face, Derek congratulated himself on getting one in before he’d been clobbered, and then gingerly stepped around his dad. He knew nothing else would follow. Ever since the age of seventeen, when he’d packed on the height, weight, and muscle and could actually fight back, it never went further from there. But until the day he moved out, Derek would always be on guard and watching his back, because fuck only knew if one night his father would crack and ambush him.

Stomping down the hall, he told himself over and over that no matter what happened this year he
would
get a job, and he would get the
hell
out of this house for good.

* * *

JORDAN DEVANEY STOOD under the hard-hitting spray of warm water and let the jets from his three showerheads hit every possible muscle on his deliciously aching body.

Yesss,
last night had been exactly what he needed. He’d decided to indulge himself in a little nighttime delight before his new rule of
no party shenanigans during the work week
kicked into full effect after accepting his new position at the local university.
 

He laughed to himself as the water slicked down over him, still unable to believe that
he
was going to be in charge of educating future generations. He’d decided that the dean could quite possibly be mad for giving him such a position of authority, but he knew that wasn’t the case.
 

He was brilliant; there were no two ways around it. A certified genius according to his IQ and the bachelor’s degree he’d received at the ripe old age of fourteen before going on to complete his PhD by his twenty-first birthday. And on top of those two facts was the recommendation from one of the university’s most beloved professors. The woman whose job he would be taking over—Professor Anne Hamilton. God rest her soul.
 

When he’d been nothing more than a smartass kid getting in too much trouble for his own good, his mother and father had pulled him from school on the recommendation of his teachers, who said that his test scores may require he have “special” schooling. Soon after, they’d hired several tutors to home-school him.
 

As money wasn’t ever an issue in the Devaney household, his parents threw the best minds in the business at him, and when he showed a special interest in history they hired on the brightest, and toughest, teacher in the nation.

Professor Hamilton. The woman who’d recently recommended
him
, of all people, to take her place when she found out she was going to need her energy to fight a new crusade: her ailing health.

He still couldn’t believe it. He had more money than he knew what to do with and he’d always assumed he’d travel to far-off and exotic places to take part in exciting archaeological digs, not be stuck in some stuffy room teaching uninterested teens about ruins from a slide show collection. But around six months ago she’d asked him a question he hadn’t been able to answer.
 

“Are you satisfied with your life, Jordan? You have so much, and everything has always come so easy to you. But is your mind challenged? Or do you want more? Don’t you want to make a difference?”
 

He’d taken a long look at his life the night after that conversation and the answer had been simple—no, he wasn’t challenged. He’d become bored with his privileged lifestyle, and yes, he wanted to make a difference. He still remembered what she’d said to him moments before she’d passed.

“You were my biggest challenge,
Professor
Jordan Devaney. Now, go and find what makes you work the hardest, and dare yourself to make a difference.”
 

That had been a couple of weeks ago.

So there he was—
he,
Jordan Devaney, was going to endeavor to be…responsible.
 

Her final words still lingered as he stood there under the shower getting ready for whatever life was going to “challenge” him with. He tipped his head back and let the water sluice over his face as he thought about the day ahead.
 

Three classes before noon and one after. If he managed to get through those in one piece, maybe he could track down that gorgeous Professor Hayes he’d met on his campus tour and see if he would be interested in dinner.
 

As a friend
,
of course,
he told himself. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to pursue that. Sex in the workplace was just too messy. Not that he’d know, since he’d never taken a job before, but that was what he’d heard.
 

With a sigh, he turned off the water and snagged one of the fluffy white towels hanging over the pewter hook on the wall. He rubbed it over his hair then toweled off his body before he headed to his walk-in closet to get ready for the day.

The wooden floors were the perfect temperature under his feet as he threw the towel over an armchair and perused the pants hanging in front of him. As he evaluated his choices, he groaned.
 

Ugh,
dressing for school was going to be
so
boring. He much preferred dressing for fun. Maybe when he did finally speak to Hayes he could ask if he had any tips for him that didn’t include sweaters. Because really, who wore sweaters in Florida? Then a brilliant idea struck him. He didn’t have to dress boringly, just…appropriately. So why not have a little fun with his students on his first day? Go for the shock factor. His age would already be a topic of discussion, so why not add a little outlandish attire to go with?

He reached for the brightest pair of pants he owned and smiled as he tossed them over the top of his back-to-back chest of drawers in the center of the closet. He then slipped into a pair of tight black briefs before searching the opposite rack of hangers for a shirt.
Hmm.
He
glanced back at the pants.
What color, what color… Oh! Yes, perfect.

Settling on a vibrant button-down, he finished getting dressed, slipped his feet into some loafers, and went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish styling his hair. It wasn’t until he walked back into his bedroom that he spotted the long line of a muscular leg sticking out from under his navy sheets.
 

Oh, shit.
Caught up in his head about his first day of being an adult, Jordan had completely forgotten he’d left a man in his bed. One who was still there.
Awkward.
 

Not possessing one iota of shame, he walked to the double sliding doors that led to his balcony and tugged open the curtains. As the morning sun pierced through the glass and right into the sleeping man’s eyes, Jordan stopped by the edge of the bed and flung back the sheet, revealing one very
naked
man.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he singsonged.

As the mountain of muscle started to shift, Jordan took a moment to admire the play of skin over that firm ass and toned back. The man had such a different physique to his own, one that he had really,
really
gotten off on having under him the night before.
 

Yes, what a shocker—he liked to top.

“Oh, sorry, man. I didn’t realize the time.”

“Not a problem, big guy. But alas, our night together is over. I have to go and earn a living, and
you
need to exit the building.”

Rob…Rod,
or shit, whatever his name is
, sat up and swung his legs over the bed, and when his giant feet hit the floor and he stood, Jordan grabbed his jeans and held them out to him.
 

The guy was massive. He had him by at least three inches and fifty pounds, but hell if that hadn’t made it more exciting when he’d been begging for Jordan to give it to him harder, harder…
Shit. Focus.
He’s leaving.
“Seriously, hon, you need to get dressed and skedaddle,” Jordan said with a waggle of his fingers toward the bedroom door. “Or I’m going to be late.”

Rod—
yes,
I’m positive it’s Rod
—pulled on his jeans and buttoned them as he gave a shy smile that was at odds with his pierced nipples and shaved head. “Can I call you?”

And there was the rub. The problem he’d always had with letting someone wake up beside him: they never just…left. Jordan opened his mouth to say something along the lines of
probably not
, but he was saved from having to break the poor guy’s heart because his phone started an incessant ring throughout his condo.

He held his finger up and dashed into his closet to hunt down the cell.
 

Shit, shit, shit…
Where had he left the damn thing? Flinging several shirts over his shoulder to the floor, he hunted under a pair of shorts, and a bathrobe, then spotted his messenger bag slung over the closet handle.
Jackpot.

Racing to it, he got his fingers around the noisemaker just as his mother’s call went to voicemail.
Oh great. Just great. She will
not
let me hear the end of that,
he thought, as he spotted Rod heading toward the private elevator.
 

Pocketing the phone, Jordan followed and then leaned around him to press the down button. As the door opened, Rod walked backward inside and raised a brow. “Do you ever visit North Carolina at all?”

Pursing his lips a little, Jordan shook his head. “Hmm, not recently.”

“No problem. Last night was…unexpected. You’re a real firecracker.”
 

Jordan gave a shrug and winked. “Like lightning in a bottle, baby. I’m hard to capture or contain,” he said as the door slid shut and his guest went down one more time during their acquaintance.
 

Jordan dashed back into his bedroom, grabbed his car keys and the bag he’d been rifling through a minute ago, then snagged a banana and headed back to the elevator.
 

First day of college, here I come.
It was time to head for class
.
Huh
, he thought with a grin. This felt eerily reminiscent of his teenage years. A boy leaving his bed and his mother calling just in time to ruin the moment, or in this case, save him from an awkward one
.
 

He really was lucky to have such wonderful parents, and he counted his blessings each and every day for that. It had taken him a few years before he’d been comfortable enough to embrace all that he was, but now that he had, he lived by a simple motto.

No excuses.

No apologies.

And not one damn regret.

CHAPTER TWO

THE PEOPLE WHO stand out as special in your life are usually put in your path for a reason.

Camille Finley, Finn’s mom, had said that to him last night as Derek sat at her kitchen nook and ate a “good luck on your first day of college” spaghetti dinner with his best friend. He’d been in the process of trying to work out a way to thank her for being the mother he’d never had. But, as usual, when he’d gotten to the emotional “Thank you. I love you” part, he’d choked the fuck up. That had been when she walked around the counter and gave his large shoulders a squeeze, and whispered those words of wisdom in his ear.
 

He was starting to think the woman was right, too, because if it hadn’t been for her, he sure as hell wouldn’t be standing on the perfectly manicured lawn of a university with a swollen eye and one hell of a headache, waiting on her late-ass son.
 

Yeah,
today was the first day of the rest of his life. His first day of college. And even though he’d worked damn hard to be there, a part of him already wanted out. The part that was embarrassed to know that he’d have to sit through class with his sunglasses on or look like the kind of dick who got into weekend fistfights.
Fucking awesome.

The shitty part of the situation was that he
wanted
to be there. But now he was stuck with a shiner developing on his face that would no doubt draw attention and questions about himself, and not the good damn kind.
 

I mean, really, can the day get any worse?
 

The constant heat that blanketed the small town of Sunset Cove was in full effect as all the students who would be attending college for the upcoming year were trying to find their classes. He glanced at his watch again, and when he saw the time he grimaced. Finn was really late. That was just brilliant. Why not add that to the list of shit that was starting to pile up: late on the first day.
 

He should’ve known better. During his run he’d noticed the waves were perfect for surfing, and after years of friendship he should’ve clued in to what his buddy would be doing this morning, no matter how late it made him.
 

That didn’t help him out, though. He didn’t want to get off to a bad start with his professors, so he walked up the path that dissected the lawn and headed toward the front entrance of the History building. After climbing the stairs to the double doors, he heard his name being called from behind and spotted Finn jogging across the lawn toward him.
 

Daniel Finley—Finn to most, and Danny boy to him on occasion—was his best friend. He understood who Derek was and the situation he came from. That didn’t mean the two of them hadn’t had their fair share of throw-downs, though.

He was too irritated right now to bother acknowledging his friend, who had finally come to a standstill opposite him with a grin so wide it looked like it was about to slide right off his face. “Where the hell have you been?”