Read Devil's Kiss (Sunset Cove #2) Online
Authors: Ella Frank
Devil's Kiss (Sunset Cove #2)
DEVIL’S KISS
ELLA FRANK
Copyright © 2016 by Ella Frank
Edited by Arran McNicol
Cover Design © By
Jay Aheer
Photography by Eric Battershell
Photography by
Wander Aguier
Cover Models – Jason Dickinson & Ryan VanDyke
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except
for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
What do you do when the one you least expect to matter…
Ends up mattering the most?
Derek Pearson likes to think he’s an easygoing guy. Uncomplicated, upfront, and unapologetic with what he wants. His
what you see is what you get
attitude is on prominent display for anyone who cares to look, and his foul mouth is right there to back it up should you miss the point.
However, what you see isn’t always what you get, and only a select few have ever glimpsed the real man under the brash exterior.
Among them? Professor Jordan Devaney. Complicated, high-maintenance, and vibrant, he’s Derek’s opposite in every way. From the moment they saw each other, a love-hate relationship began.
But what happens when one person wants more?
Also by Ella Frank
The Exquisite Series
Exquisite
Entice
Edible
The Temptation Series M/M
Try
Take
Trust
Sunset Cove Series
Finley
Masters Among Monsters Series
Alasdair
Isadora
Standalones
Blind Obsession
Veiled Innocence
Co-authored with Brooke Blaine
Sex Addict
THE CALL
Present Day
DEREK PEARSON PUSHED open the door of Leighton, Finley & Associates, and stepped out on the paved sidewalk. It was the first day of August, and if the sweltering Florida sun was any indication, today was going to be hotter than hell’s waiting room.
As he strolled toward the curb, he pulled a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his shorts and flipped open the top. He needed a fucking cigarette after watching Daniel Finley and his damn professor get all sappy and shit. That was gonna get old real quick if he had to stomach their nauseating displays of
I love yous
longer than the fifteen minutes he’d been in there. But he’d known he had to make an appearance sooner or later; otherwise Danny boy would’ve shown up asking questions. Questions he wasn’t ready to answer.
There’d been a reason he hadn’t come around to see Finn when he first moved back from Chicago two months ago, but it wasn’t something he was in the mood to talk about yet, even if he was one of the two people on the planet who would understand all the shit he’d been dealing with.
Yeah…
He just wasn’t ready to go there.
With a smoke between his lips, he lit up, then shoved the pack back in his shorts. He was so damn antsy lately, and for that he could thank his brother, Alan.
He walked around to the side of his Jeep and pulled open the door. After climbing inside, he grabbed his cell phone and stared at the dark screen, contemplating his next move.
Am I really planning to do this?
Fuck,
it seemed that he was, even when he knew better.
If he did this, it would be nothing more than a Band-Aid over the real problem. A shot to numb the more painful issues he was dealing with right now. He would be slipping back into a pattern he had pulled himself out of. An addiction he’d broken free from. But he was also aware that if he didn’t do it, the alternative would be to spiral out of control, and solitude was no longer helping his fucked-up nerves.
He brought the phone to his ear and waited. The phone rang and rang, and fucking rang, until he was close to hanging up—and then it connected.
“You free?” were the only two words out of his mouth. He waited, not caring to pursue small talk. That wasn’t what this was about. All he cared about in that moment was getting what he needed.
When an affirmative came through the phone, he hung up, tossed it on the dashboard, and brought the Jeep to life. As he sped across town, he white-knuckled the steering wheel and didn’t allow himself to think about the consequences of what he was about to do.
It took him less than ten minutes to pull into the underground parking garage of the Palisades and take the elevator up to where his drug of choice waited for him. He glanced up into the camera in the corner of his metallic confines and stared boldly into the face of the one who was waiting at the other end of this ride.
Yeah,
he was about to fall off the fucking wagon big time. Was about to slide back into the one place he promised himself he wouldn’t go again. Yet as the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, there was no denying this was exactly what he wanted.
“I have thirty minutes,” were the words that greeted him.
Derek walked off the elevator and over to the naked man waiting for him. He took the haughty chin between his thumb and forefinger and promised in a voice thick with arousal, “I only need ten. Take me to your room, Jordan. Time’s a wasting.”
PAST
“I wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
Bout a home I'll never see.”
~
Superman
Five for Fighting
CHAPTER ONE
Eleven Years Earlier
LIFE IN THE Pearson household was pretty standard week after week. That was the one sure thing that Derek relied on to survive, day in and day out. He knew his father’s routine as well as his own and made it a habit to give the fucker a wide berth whenever he could—
less trouble for all of us in the long run that way.
Three nights a week, his dad worked the graveyard shift and dragged his sorry ass in just as the sun was rising. So each morning, Derek’s goal was to be out of the house and running his way up the long stretch of hard-packed sand by then. That way, when he finally finished his morning exercise his father would either be passed out drunk in his recliner or facedown in his bed.
Isn’t life grand,
he thought, as he came to a stop at the back of their tiny, run-down home that morning, and looked up at the screen door. The bottom of the three stairs that led up to the patio was broken, and one side of it was wedged down into the sand, making it a hazard to anyone who wasn’t aware should they try climbing it. But that wasn’t really an issue, considering no one in their right mind would bother coming to visit the Pearson household. If anything, they steered clear of it—one of the perks of being the town’s pariahs
.
Well,
he
wasn’t so much because he kept his head down and his attitude in check…most days. His father and brother, however, were a different story.
By some miracle of fate, he’d managed to distance himself from the two men who resided in this home over the past nineteen years. Yet he still hadn’t worked up the nerve to leave altogether. Not to mention, he had no fucking money. That was something he was determined to change this year. He was going to find a job. One that paid well. And he was going to work as hard as he possibly could to get the hell away from the clusterfuck that was his everyday life.
That’s the plan, anyway.
Using the bottom of his shirt, he swiped the sweat away from his face and ran a hand through his short hair.
Fuck, best to get this part of the day over with.
It was such a
fantastic
feeling to be scared to set foot into your own home, and that was exactly the way he felt each morning, knowing he may come face to face with the monster who lurked inside.
After stepping over the broken plank, he carefully climbed the other two steps and winced when his foot hit the washed-out wood of the patio deck. The groaning creak was difficult to avoid because no matter where you trod, the timber was going to protest. He froze in place, hoping the door wasn’t about to slap open and reveal his hulking father, but when nobody came out he figured he was safe—for now.
He crossed the deck and slowly opened the door and
yep,
there was good ole Dad sprawled back on the recliner with a beer bottle resting in his lap. It wasn’t even seven in the morning.
Keeping a wary eye on the sleeping man, Derek cautiously walked around the footrest and was almost home free when his sneaker landed on an empty cigarette carton his dad must’ve dumped on his way inside.
“Derek?” his dad slurred out in a low, raspy voice, and Derek bit the inside of his cheek in an effort not to speak. Their encounters were always smoother if he kept his mouth shut. He’d learned
that
the hard way.
“Derek,” his father said again, but this time turned in the chair to see where he was. “Didn’t you hear me, boy? I’m speaking to you.”
Reminding himself that the quickest way out of this situation was to reply and then hightail it out of there, Derek ordered himself to turn around and face the man who was barking at him. “Dad.”
“Where’ve you been?”
Like it wasn’t obvious from his attire or that he did the same exact thing every morning. Though it was a testament to the fact that, just as he’d always suspected, his father didn’t give a shit about him or what he did one way or another.
“Out for a run.”
“With that faggot friend of yours?”
The words were jarring, like a slap to the face, and Derek balled his fists at the familiar slur. It was nothing new. He’d been hearing this homophobic bullshit ever since his father had found out he was gay back when he was sixteen. That didn’t mean it galled him any less.
God, he wanted to punch the fucker in the face. He had the muscles to do it now, too. The only thing that held him back was the desire to be the total opposite to the piece of shit now kicking down the footrest and getting to his feet.
Like himself, his father was an intimidating wall of a man. Both topping out at six four, they each looked the other in the eye. He was sure that pissed his father off to no end, too, because it made him harder to push around. So did the big fucking muscles he’d worked his ass off to build.
“No,” Derek finally answered. “I was running alone.”
“Why?” his father said. “Your boyfriend stand you up?”
Derek prayed for patience as he looked out the lone window in the back of their home. “He’s not my boyfriend. And Finn doesn’t run. You know that.”
His dad half staggered, half walked over to him, and when their shoulders collided Derek glared at him and saw an evil twinkle light his eyes.
“Yeah? Well, good thing. His knees are probably shot from all the cock he sucks.”
He should’ve just walked to the kitchen, but Derek felt the tight leash that’d been holding him back finally snap. He reached out, grabbed hold of his father’s thick wrist, and halted him. “What did you just say?”
His father’s bloodshot eyes narrowed an inch and he gave a menacing grin. “I said, his knees are probably—” But before he could finish, Derek had swung his arm around and sucker-punched the prick right in the jaw. As if on instinct, and without giving it a second thought, his father backhanded him so hard that he went stumbling across the room.