CHAPTER TEN
One Year Later
FINALS. IT WAS always the most stressful time of the semester, and as Derek stared at the economics textbook in front of him, he swore his eyes were starting to cross. It was well after two in the morning and he had to be up in, shit, four hours.
Jesus, if he didn’t fall asleep during the actual exam it would be a miracle.
He tossed his pen on the desk he was seated at, then leaned back in the leather chair, stretching his arms above his head as a yawn escaped him. It was Thursday night, and tomorrow’s exam was the last one he had—and then he would be done with his sophomore year.
God, where did the time go? He spun around in the chair and looked toward the open door leading from his bedroom to the long balcony that flanked this side of the building. Most days he still couldn’t believe he lived there, in the penthouse of the Palisades, but he did.
Jordan had invited him to stay that first night, and since then the two of them had settled into a comfortable routine of landlord and tenant. Just as Jordan had suggested they should. On one hand it was totally strange, yet on the other it had turned out close to fucking perfect.
Tonight, the penthouse was quiet. Jordan had told him he was going out to celebrate his final day of teaching, and instructed Derek with a sassy wink not to wait up.
As if he ever would.
Considering what close quarters they kept, they lived very separate lives. And just as they’d agreed from day one, there were no strange men in the house, and the two of them had developed quite the unexpected friendship.
Jordan Devaney out of school was exactly as he had been that first semester in school—times about ten. He was opinionated, sarcastic, and rather full of himself. But Derek had to admit, the guy could back it up.
Jordan was smart, rich, and smokin’ hot—not that Derek would ever mention that these days. Fuck no. There was no way he was crossing that line they’d both drawn in the sand that night, and neither had ever stepped over.
However, Jordan wasn’t only all about himself. The other thing Derek had learned in the past year was just how generous he was. Not only had he taken him in that day, the guy had refused to take his money for anything other than rent on his small section of the house. Derek couldn’t remember how many times they’d argued over the grocery bill. But in the end, even if he got pissed and called Jordan a bossy asshole and left the money on the counter, Derek would find it later that night on the bedside table in his bedroom. Stubborn ass.
Deciding he was done for the night, he got to his feet and stretched his neck from side to side, ready to go to bed, but the sound of the elevator dinging echoed throughout the condo. He yawned again and glanced at the digital readout on his phone.
It read 2:45 a.m. Late night, huh, professor?
Ready to give Jordan shit for being an old guy able to stay out past midnight, Derek was halfway down the hall when he heard someone giggle and then someone else say, “Shh…”
As more musical laughter floated through the air, Derek froze, waiting to see if he’d imagined it, until “God, J. That last round of Mind Erasers totally did you in. You’re trashed,” confirmed that he hadn’t.
The footsteps shuffling through the condo’s main living room indicated there were at least two people, and when he heard an “ompfh” followed by more laughing, Derek contemplated turning and heading back to his room.
Jordan had never brought anyone home with him before, and while Derek was more than aware the guy stayed out every now and then, it was different to know he might have to lie in his bedroom and listen to some other guy get in bed with the man he had secretly been fantasizing about.
Just great.
Dressed only in a pair of lightweight sweats, Derek was about to head back to his room when a light was switched on and Jordan’s voice sounded throughout the penthouse.
“August!” Jordan laughed loudly, then whispered, “Turn it off. You’ll wake—”
“Me,” Derek said, figuring that maybe if he announced his presence to the men in the living room, then they might not do whatever they were back here to do.
Jordan was sitting on the couch with a guy dressed in jeans, a loose mauve linen shirt, and about four or five beaded necklaces standing between his legs. With his shoulder-length brown hair and dark scruff, the guy bore a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp, and Derek wondered if that’s what he was aiming for. If so, he’d nailed it.
The sound of Derek’s voice had the both of them whipping their heads around in the direction of where he stood. If the situation had been anything other than what it was, Derek might have noticed how lecherous the smile was that stretched across the face of the stranger who was now staring at him. As it was, Derek was far too irritated at the thought of these two going back to Jordan’s room to fuck to notice that—much.
“Hmm. Well, hello. Who do we have here, J?” the man asked, giving Derek his full attention as Jordan flopped back into the couch.
The man stepped over the leg Jordan had flung out in front of himself and took the couple of steps he needed to stop directly in front of Derek. He was tall enough, probably around six foot, but like most, that still put him several inches shorter than Derek.
“That’s Derek,” Jordan slurred, then added, “He-Man.”
Derek’s eyes cut to Jordan. He-Man? Okay…that one’s new, he thought, keeping a discreet eye on his “landlord” as a sensual chuckle came from the unidentified man, whose eyes were surveying every inch of Derek’s naked torso.
“I can certainly see why you call him that.”
“Yes…” Jordan agreed, even though his eyes were shut. “Muscles and, ahh, more muscles. Mhmm.” That velvety purr he gave at the end traveled straight down Derek’s spine to his balls, and was as good as a caress.
Jesus, how much did he drink tonight? Jordan had never come home like this.
“Got it,” Johnny wannabe said. “But who is he, J? You haven’t mentioned a He-Man before now. Especially not a live-in one.”
Fed up with the douchebag know-it-all talking as though he wasn’t there, Derek crossed his arms and said, “I don’t know who you are, but how ’bout you stop talking as if I’m not standing in front of you and able to kick your ass.”
“Oh ho.” The guy laughed. “Down, boy. You can stop growling. I’m just trying to understand why a giant is sleeping in my best friend’s bed. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Uncaring of how little he was wearing, Derek stepped forward until he was toe to toe with the man and said, “I’m not sleeping in his bed. And who I am is none of your business unless he decides to tell you.”
“Boys, boys…” Jordan said as he scooted to the edge of the couch and then pushed up onto his feet. He didn’t sway much as he walked their way, but when he stopped beside the both of them and placed a hand on Derek’s bicep, it seemed to register with him that Derek was wearing hardly any clothes. Jordan tested the muscles under his palm and then aimed a megawatt smile up at Derek that made his dick instantly hard.
Motherfucker.
“Derek, this is August, he’s my…my…” Jordan pondered over his choice of words for a second but then became sidetracked when he squeezed Derek’s arm again. “Wow. Your arms are huge. I mean, I knew you were big, but damn. And so…so…” He flattened his palm and ran it over the tattoo on Derek’s right shoulder before he whispered, “I’ve always wanted to touch these…”
Before Derek could halt Jordan’s wandering hand, he’d trailed a finger over to his chest to trace the script written just below his collarbone.
“They’re so sexy,” Jordan murmured, more to himself than anyone else, as far as Derek could tell, and then Jordan looked over to his friend, who was watching the exchange with curious eyes. “Aren’t these sexy?”
Jordan was so close that the scent of his cologne mixing with his sweat was intoxicating, and it was everything Derek could do not to uncross his arms and grab a hold of the guy. Apparently his reaction was not lost on August.
“No doubt, J. You might want to stop pawing the guy, though. He looks about ready to combust.”
Jordan laughed as though that were the most absurd notion on the planet, but when he turned back to face Derek, his laughter ceased.
Yeah, pretty sure “combustible” is an accurate description of how I’m feeling.
Realizing that he’d crossed the invisible barrier they’d carefully erected, Jordan cautiously backed away, but it was too late. Derek couldn’t tear his eyes from the man who had always been very careful not to flirt, touch, or give any impression he was interested. But the heat in Jordan’s cheeks and the alcohol that had loosened his inhibitions were showing Derek what was behind Jordan’s carefully manufactured facade.
“I’m August,” the guy standing beside Jordan said as he held his hand out in Derek’s direction.
Derek tore his eyes from Jordan’s then and took a hold of the guy’s hand. “Derek.”
August shook his hand and then gave a knowing smirk. “Sorry if we woke you. J’s had a few too many—”
“Hello. J’s right here, and quite sober, thank you very much.”
August poked his tongue into his cheek as he dropped Derek’s hand and nodded. “Sure you are, J.”
“I am.”
August slipped his hands into his pockets and asked Derek, “Has he ever stroked your tattoos like he wanted to lick them before?”
Oh, Jesus. Like he needed that visual. “No.”
August turned back to face Jordan then. “Exactly. You, my friend, need water and an aspirin, then bed.”
Jordan waved his hand in an I don’t think so way, and when August made a grab for him, he dodged and giggled and had Derek smiling right along with him. Who knew Devaney was so damn cute when he was plastered?
Jordan spun on his toes and strutted over to the ridiculously expensive sound system, where he took the remote in one hand and aimed it at the entertainment center like he was pointing a Taser at a target—then he pressed a button.
As a familiar beat filled the room, August, who was still standing beside Derek, sighed. Derek tried to place the song, but as soon as the lyrics started, his mouth fell the fuck open.
“Britney Spears? Is he fucking kidding?”
August looked at him and shrugged. “He’s drunk, is what he is.”
Derek looked back toward the living room, and sure enough Jordan was swinging his hips and shaking his ass to an anthem about some guy being toxic. It also appeared he knew every single word as he turned to face them and crooked a finger.
“Oh, fuck no,” Derek said.
August chuckled and patted his arm as he walked toward the kitchen. “I’m gonna get a bottle of water for me and him. Think you can handle him for a few minutes on your own, He-Man?”
Derek narrowed his eyes on Jordan’s friend and nodded. “I think I can manage.”
As he walked toward Jordan, Derek heard August warn, “Be careful. He’s a handful when he gets like this.”
Before Derek could ask what that meant, August was heading for the kitchen and Derek was left in the living room with Jordan, who had his eyes shut and his head tipped back as he waved his hands above his head.
Fuck, the guy was all sex in that moment.
Tight ripped jeans, tight navy blue tank, and lips Derek wanted over every damn inch of him. When he was close enough that he could smell Jordan’s cologne again, he saw him open his twinkling brown eyes and aim a teasing smile up at him. Clasping his hands overhead, Jordan gyrated his hips to the wicked beat of the music. As he came closer toward him, Derek shook his head and leaned down to say in his ear, “Britney Spears?”
Jordan turned his head, and when he replied, “Don’t you dare make fun of my Brit Brit,” Derek felt the warm breath on his cheek and straightened up to go take a seat on the couch. But as he stepped away, Jordan reached for one of his hands and wrapped it around his waist. In an instant their bodies were flush and Jordan waggled his brows at him.
“Come on, He-Man. I know you can dance.”
“He-Man?”
“Mhmm,” he said as he writhed against him, and Derek had to take a hold of his squirming hips or he’d be really fucking embarrassed in the next few seconds. “Yeah, just like that,” Jordan said, and before Derek knew it was happening, Jordan’s arms were around his neck and he was grinding against him like the two of them were naked.
Christ, how was he supposed to do this and keep shit as it always was between them? Jordan wasn’t playing fair, and the alcohol was unleashing…well, who the fuck knew what it was unleashing. Then Jordan sighed and said, “More,” and there was no stopping Derek from slipping his hands from the guy’s hips to his ass and yanking him in so they were aligned from head to fucking toe.
* * *
JORDAN’S HEAD WAS spinning and his cock was pounding in delicious time to the music pulsating through his living room. He felt unbelievable, and so did the thick arms surrounding his waist and the hands molding his ass to pull him in close to a rock-solid body.
Derek…damn. The guy was fucking built. And when he’d seen him standing there in nothing but his sweats, Jordan had had an unstoppable need to touch.
So, with a little help from the few too many shots he’d had, Jordan had done just that, and judging from the thick length he could feel pressed against him, he knew that Derek had wanted to touch too.
As the song switched to the sensual beat of Brit wanting to be a slave for whoever, Jordan tipped his face up and looked into Derek’s eyes, and what he saw there almost had his knees buckling.
Intense desire fueled the scorching expression aimed his way. Jordan licked his lips in response, and Derek dipped his knees and dragged his body up in a way that made a strangled groan leave Jordan.
Shit, that felt… He did it again, and Jordan’s eyes shut. He brought one of his hands around the front of Derek’s sweats and trailed his fingers under the elastic. Derek’s skin was warm to the touch, and Jordan hummed as he slipped his hand beneath the fabric and between their bodies.
Derek growled and Jordan closed his eyes, reveling in the moment he’d wanted for so long. He was finally—yes…right there—touching Derek. He had his hand wrapped around a thick cock that had slicked his palm with the pre-cum leaking from its tip, and when Jordan opened his eyes, he saw Derek’s teeth clenched as he rocked into his fist, seeking more friction on his engorged length.
Again, he thought, hoping Derek would thrust forward and grind his cock against him, but instead, he lowered his head and the sharp scrape of teeth on Jordan’s jaw shot a bolt of desire straight to his dick.
“You need to come with a fucking warning label,” Derek said, nipping his ear. Then he raised his head and pulled Jordan’s hand away. “You had very specific terms when I moved in, and until I graduate I’m sticking to them. Now, I have a test tomorrow morning and it’s gonna be hard as hell to sleep. So do me a favor—don’t keep me up by fucking your boyfriend with the cock I just primed, okay? If anything, think about me lying in there getting off on the thought of you fucking my brains out with it.”
Jordan’s breath caught, and Derek raised a brow as if to say, Problem? When Jordan didn’t say a word, Derek nodded and slowly backed away, keeping their eyes locked. When he got to the hall he smirked, and Jordan couldn’t help but reach down and press his hand over his cock as he bit his bottom lip.
“Yeah, just my luck,” Derek said. “You probably won’t even remember this tomorrow. Night, Devaney.”
And before he vanished, Jordan whispered, “Night, He-Man.”