Devil's Kiss (Sunset Cove #2) (21 page)

With him now managing the gym where he’d worked for years, and Dylan making a living through his catalogue modeling gigs, the two of them made enough to be able to split the rent on the bigger place and enjoy a little more comfort than what they’d once had, and tonight…tonight his buddy Dylan had once again talked him into doing something monumentally stupid.

“I feel like a fucking idiot,” Derek grumbled as he walked around the couch where Dylan was sitting.
 

“Why? Because you actually had to make an effort—” When Dylan caught sight of Derek, his words stopped and he got to his feet to look him over.
 

For the first time in his life, and hopefully the last, Derek was dressed in a tuxedo. The jacket and pants he was wearing had been measured to perfectly fit his body, and while he conceded he looked pretty damn good, he’d left his black nail polish on for a bit of
fuck you
flare.

“Shit, man, you look hot. Very James Bond.”

Derek tugged on the lapels of the jacket and shrugged. “Yeah? You think?”

“Umm…yeah.” Dylan walked over to him, dressed in an almost identical outfit, except for the additions of the black buttons on his white shirt. When he stopped in front of Derek, he laid a familiar palm over the lapel on his chest and smoothed it up to his shoulder, where he flicked away a piece of lint. “You’re going to make us a
lot
of money tonight.”

Derek screwed his nose up. “I think if anyone’s gonna make money for this damn auction, it’s going to be you.”

“Have you seen yourself? Derek, you look… Just trust me. There’s going to be a very broke man tonight because he’s going to have to outbid everyone else that’s going to fight for you. Including myself.” Dylan gave him a thorough once-over. “Damn, I had no idea you’d clean up this good.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, no. I don’t mean it like that. It’s just…I only ever see you in gym clothes or your jeans. But this. This takes you to a whole other level.”

“Down, boy.” Derek chuckled. “Put on a suit and Prescott becomes easy—who knew? Stop looking at me like you want to suck my dick or I just might take you up on the offer.”

Dylan laughed at that. “Bullshit. We tried that when you first moved in with me, and that was an epic fucking fail. But if you ever think you could be interested in the one whose hand is actually in your pants instead of the one you constantly daydream about…I’m willing to try again.”

“You’re hilarious, asshole.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. You’re the one with the little—or should I say
big
—issue. I mean, the equipment is definitely all there. It’s just not wanting to come out and play—with me.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at his roommate. The pretty bastard was having way too much fun at his expense. “Done?”

Dylan gave a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, I guess. But even you have to admit, it was an
epic
fail.”

Derek laughed at the memory. He was right; there were no two ways about it. When he’d first moved in with Dylan, they’d gotten drunk one night and things had progressed from flirtatious comments to a few kisses and a lot of hands. Then, well, Dylan had slipped his fingers down his shorts and Derek had been all for a hand job from the gorgeous guy. However, his cock hadn’t cooperated, and even after Dylan had tried his hardest to pump some life into it, it wasn’t having any of it.
 

Nope. His dick had wanted one person only. Jordan.
God
. It felt like that had always been the case, and always fucking would be. But since he avoided Jordan like the plague, Derek had made it somewhat of a mission to track down men of similar builds and temperament to his feisty former professor. He knew that was fucked up, but hey, what else was new when it came to him?
 

Which got Derek thinking. When
was
the last time he’d gone out and hooked up? Had it really been months ago? He needed to get out more, and his brain and body needed to stop fixating on something he could never have again.

“Yeah, no offense,” Derek finally said. “But one major fail with you is all I think my ego can handle.”

“Ha,” Dylan barked. “Yeah, right. You have more attitude in your little finger than most men have in their entire body. And just because
you
didn’t get it up that night, doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy imagining it later in my room by myself. You let me see all those tattoos on your body, and… Yeah, that was all it took.”

“Damn, I had no idea you were in there jacking off to me each night, Prescott.”

“Yeah, right. Don’t flatter yourself. After living with you as long as I have, all my fantasies are long since gone. Trust me.”

Derek chuckled and snagged the keys off the kitchen table. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, wise guy, remind me again what happens after some strange man purchases me for the night.”

“Well, you collect the check. The money goes to the True Colors Fund, then you go on a date with him.”

Derek looked doubtful. “And that’s it?”

Dylan nodded as he scooped up his own keys. “That’s it. Dinner. A movie. Whatever floats his boat.”

“What if wall-banging sex floats his boat?”

Dylan headed to the door with Derek following behind. “Then hope it’s someone you’d like to crush against a wall?”

“Gee, you’re a lot of help, Prescott. Can I refuse? Do they know we aren’t on sale for sex?”

“Aww, are you worried about your virtue?” Dylan quipped as they headed for Derek’s Jeep. He’d purchased it a couple of months ago, and as he popped the locks, he flipped his roommate off.
 

“Hey, if I don’t worry about it, no one will. And I just want to know the rules up front.”

As Dylan climbed inside the car, he shrugged. “The men are aware of the bidding rules, but I’ve gotta be honest. If I won you for the night, I’d totally try for the wall-banging sex.” Derek glanced over at his passenger, and Dylan winked. “I mean, a movie would not be my first choice. At least not the kind of movies they show at public theaters.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Good to know the way to your heart, and dick, is through a simple tuxedo.”

Dylan shrugged. “What can I say—there’s something about a man in a tux.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re looking pretty sharp yourself. But no touching tonight, Prescott…not unless you pay me.” Derek laughed at himself. “God, that sounds so wrong. Okay, let’s get going. Apparently I have some rich schmuck waiting to take me on a date.”

* * *

JORDAN WASN’T SURE why he’d let Brantley drag him along to the Gay and Lesbian Community Center tonight. This wasn’t the way he usually liked to go about donating toward causes he believed in, and he believed strongly in helping the homeless youth among the LGBTQ community. But really, an auction?
 

He’d almost laughed when Brantley asked him, because he was the last person Jordan would ever expect to turn up to one of these events. But then Brantley had admitted he wanted to get out more and maybe meet someone new and see if…well, just see “if,” and who was Jordan to say no to that?

Ever since Daniel Finley had moved to Chicago, Jordan had been trying to get Brantley back out into the dating world for what felt like forever, and he would just about mortgage a fucking house to buy the guy a date if that was what it took to have him sit down and eat a meal with a man whom he might have something in common with. Or at least have really good sex with.
 

Lord knows the guy could do with a couple of rounds in a bed with a hot guy to remind him how to use the appendage between his legs.
 

But it was none of Jordan’s business what Brantley did, or who, for that matter. He just hated seeing his friend so isolated when he was such a good catch for some lucky guy.

So there he was, standing at the back of an auditorium full of horny men ranging in age, pretending to be there to support a good cause, when really, it was just an added benefit of ogling all the eye candy about to be paraded on stage and the chance to date someone way out of their league.
 

Well, out of
their
league.
Let’s be real.

With a glass of Chardonnay in hand, Jordan leaned into Brantley and asked, “So do they have a menu of sorts?”

“A menu?” Brantley asked, his eyes wide.

“Why do you look so shocked? Surely it makes sense that we get to
see
what it is we’ll be purchasing. Right? You get a catalogue at an auction house, so I figured with all the prime beef they’re about to display, we would get a menu here.”

“Jordan,” Brantley said.
 

Jordan frowned and then looked back to the stage, where several men were muscling to get closer to the runway. “What? That’s why I’m here, right? I mean you. That’s why
you’re
here. I’m not bidding. I currently have my hands full, thank you very much.”

Brantley smiled, and Jordan felt himself reciprocate. He’d been seeing Dr. Stephan Reid for a couple of months now, and things were going…well.
 

Stephan worked over at the local hospital, and that was where they’d first met. Jordan had been coming out of a meeting where he’d donated funds to an expansion of the children’s wing, and they’d literally run into one another and hit it off. Since then, they’d gone out to dinner several times, and one night they’d even gone to the local symphony, and all in all it was going…well.

The only problem was they hadn’t quite made it to the bedroom yet. Stephan was a little older. Actually, he was right around Brantley’s age, and whenever they’d come close and Jordan would make a move, the guy’s pager would go off or he’d be called into work. As frustrating as that was, though, Jordan was beginning to suspect that maybe he wasn’t as into Stephan as he should be, considering the lack of sex
wasn’t
bothering him. But Stephan was kind and generous, and they had similar interests when it came to giving back to those less fortunate than themselves, and Jordan figured it was worth giving it a little more time to see if it could develop into something more.

“Oh yes, Stephan. How is he?”

“Busy,” Jordan replied. It was the truth. He was always busy, but that worked out for Jordan, too, because honestly, he liked his freedom. He not only worked at the university these days but also sat on the board of several charities he found important, and he was the owner of two of the major apartment towers being built down on the main strip of Sunset, and somewhere in the middle there, he saw Stephan when he was free.
 

“Maybe one day soon when he’s
not
busy, we can all get together and have dinner?”

Brantley had asked him this a couple of times now, and while Jordan wasn’t opposed to bringing Stephan around, he wasn’t sure how permanent he was and would really rather play it by ear.
 

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll have to ask him.”

“Please do. I think it’s only fair I get to meet the man who’s finally held your interest for longer than a night.”

Oh, there’s another one, you know…
Jordan thought, and then immediately wondered why the hell Derek Pearson was in his head. He hadn’t heard from Derek in years. After the night of commencement, Jordan had gone off on his family’s vacation and when he’d come back, just as they’d decided, that had been that.
 

Jordan had gone back to work at the start of a new semester, and he hadn’t run into Derek since.
 

It hadn’t escaped his notice, though, that in a town the size of Sunset Cove, it was likely that Derek purposely avoided him and all his local haunts, because otherwise they would’ve run into one another by now.
 

He was about to give Brantley some lame response to the question about dinner when the lights went down and a spotlight lit up a man on the far left-hand side of the stage.

“Good evening, everyone. Are you all ready to part with some Benjamins for maybe a Peter or Paul?”

When the crowd around them whistled their agreement, Jordan glanced over at Brantley. He caught his friend’s eye and flashed him a grin before raising his hand and wolf-whistling right along with the other men. As everyone settled, the auctioneer ran through the rules of the event for the crowd. It was simple.

This was
not
a sex for money auction.
 

If you were interested in someone, you were to raise your hand in a calm manner.
 

Yeah, right
. Jordan wasn’t sure the crowd currently jostling one another for a prime position by the stage knew the meaning of the word
calm
.
 

And finally, if you purchased someone and couldn’t write a check to be cashed the following day, the man would then go to the next highest bidder.

In other words,
Jordan noted,
you’re shit out of luck.

The auctioneer then invited them to enjoy themselves and get their wallets ready, because the first man up for grabs that evening was: “The manager of one of the local gyms of Sunset Cove. I’m sure even those in the back of the crowd will have no problem seeing his towering physique. Let me hear your best version of a wolf whistle, boys, because this guy is all kinds of alpha. Derek Pearson.”

As Derek’s name boomed through the speakers on each corner of the stage, Jordan’s jaw almost hit the floor, and then he caught himself right before Brantley glanced over his shoulder and mouthed, “That’s Finn’s Derek, right?”

When the spotlight moved from the auctioneer to the center of the stage and the curtain drew back to reveal Derek, Jordan’s only thought was,
No, that’s my Derek.

He absently nodded as Derek walked forward to center stage, and Jordan couldn’t help the small grin that touched the side of his mouth at the expression on Derek’s face. The guy was not happy to be the main attraction in a room full of horny men vying for his attention, or, in actuality, bidding for it.
 

He was dressed the part, though, that was for sure. Derek looked gorgeous in his classic tux, with his hair cut short on the sides and styled back from his face. His broad shoulders filled out the jacket in a way that made Jordan’s palm itch to touch, then his eyes moved down to the hands by Derek’s side and Jordan noted the black nail polish and felt his dick twitch.