Chapter 39
CHAPTER 39
Ethan’s apartment felt like a sanctuary after the club, a haven of quiet where the outside world couldn’t reach him.
He closed the door, then kicked off his shoes and with a weary sigh, peeled off his shirt. The fabric smelled of sweat and the lingering scent of Devon’s cologne that seemed to have seeped into everything.
The hum of the AC unit droned softly, an almost rhythmic sound that smoothed out the frayed edges of Ethan’s nerves.
It wasn’t much—his tiny apartment with its mismatched furniture—but it was his. And tonight, it felt like a fortress.
Barefoot, he padded toward the fridge. The slight chill under his soles sent a shiver up his spine, a stark contrast to the humid crush of bodies he’d just left behind. He swung open the door and grabbed a beer from the shelf, his fingers brushing past a carton of eggs and a half-empty bottle of ketchup.
The glass bottle was ice-cold against his hand, condensation already forming as he popped off the cap on the edge of the counter.
He took a long pull, the bitterness cutting through the lingering taste of tequila and regret. Leaning back against the closed fridge door, he let the cold surface press into his spine, soothing away some of the tension coiled there.
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, allowing himself to sink into the silence that wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. The pounding bass from the club still rang faintly in his ears, like a phantom heartbeat he couldn’t quite shake. Lights flashed behind his closed eyelids, vivid streaks of white cutting through the darkness, and then…
Devon’s hands were rough and unrelenting. Ethan’s jaw tightened at the thought, his grip on the beer firming as Logan’s voice surfaced. “ Don’t go with him. ” His plea had been quiet but urgent, his hand reaching out to grab his wrist at the bar. Of course, Ethan had shrugged it off with some throwaway comment about being fine. But now… Now those words echoed louder than anything else.
He took another sip of beer, letting the bitterness anchor him back in reality.
He’d gone with Devon not because he wanted him, but because he wanted to prove something. What? That he didn’t need Logan? That he could make his own choices? Or maybe it was just spite—a childish retaliation against someone who cared too much. Whatever it was, it left an ache in his chest that was raw and hollow.
Devon’s bruising touch had done nothing but amplify what he was already missing—the tender familiarity of Logan’s hands.
He leaned his head back against the fridge and stared up at the ceiling, tracing the faint cracks in the plaster.
A sharp knock at the door jolted him upright, and his pulse spiked as adrenaline surged through him unexpectedly.
The abrupt noise shattered his quiet cocoon, sending unease prickling along his bare chest like static electricity.
He glanced at his watch. 0200 hours. Who would show up here at this hour?
His first thought was Logan—maybe he’d come looking for him after all. But that hope was quickly smothered by doubt.
Cursing, Ethan pushed off from the fridge and walked toward the door. His fingers hesitated on the deadbolt for half a second before sliding it back with a click.
The hinges creaked as he pulled the door open just wide enough to see who stood on the other side.
“Devon?” The name slipped out before he could stop it, confusion bleeding into every syllable as he stared at the man filling his doorway.
“Miss me?” Devon drawled, his tone casual, with an edge that made Ethan’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He leaned casually against the frame, one shoulder propped against it like he owned the moment. His broad shoulders strained against his tight black shirt, muscles rippling subtly as he shifted his weight. The smirk on his lips was slow and deliberate, curling upward like smoke from a lit match.
“What…” Ethan stammered, instinctively taking a step back. “It’s late… what are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know…” Devon straightened as he let his gaze wander over Ethan’s bare chest before locking eyes with him again. “Brick said you told him you’d ‘ see me later. ’ So here I am.” He winked, dragging out each syllable like it amused him to watch Ethan squirm.
Heat rushed to Ethan’s cheeks, not embarrassment exactly, but something close enough to make him feel exposed. “That wasn’t… I didn’t mean tonight,” he said it quickly, shaking his head. “You misunderstood. It was just something I said. Like… see you around. Not you should come to my apartment at god knows what time?—”
Devon gave a low chuckle that sent chills crawling along Ethan’s spine for all the wrong reasons, then stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.
A lump formed in Ethan’s throat that was hard to swallow and his back collided with the hard edge of the counter, the impact jarring. “I told you,” his words came out fast, almost stumbling over themselves, trying to build a wall between them. “I wasn’t feeling it tonight. I just needed to get out of there.”
Devon stepped closer, his movements were slow and deliberate, like a hunter stalking his quarry.
“That’s bullshit,” he hissed, his tone full of heat as his eyes narrowed, the smirk on his lips anything but friendly. “Those looks at the bar? That kiss?” He leaned in until their noses were almost touching. “You’ve been teasing me all fuckin’ night. Don’t act like you don’t want this.” His fingers clamped down on Ethan’s bare shoulder with bruising force, his thumb pressing deep into the muscle as if staking a claim.
“Stop.” Ethan recoiled, his brain screaming at him to act while his body lagged behind. Eventually he shoved Devon’s hand away, not with a slap or a weak push, but a full-bodied shove fueled by anger and fear.
The release sent a jolt of adrenaline through him, and he sidestepped quickly, putting distance between them. His breaths were shallow and fast as he squared his shoulders and fixed Devon with an unyielding glare. “You need to understand I don’t want this. You need to leave.”
For a moment, Devon was thrown off by this sudden defiance. But then he laughed. “You’re so cute when you’re pissed,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as he straightened. He advanced again, slow and unhurried, his sheer presence filling the cramped apartment until it felt suffocating. “Makes me wanna pin you down and have you even more.”
Devon towered over Ethan—a six-foot-five wall of muscle that seemed immovable in such a small space.
Ethan wasn’t weak, but Devon was something else entirely: relentless in both size and will.
“Quit acting all innocent.” His voice dropped into something darker, almost coaxing, but laced with menace. “You’ve been begging for it since we left the bar.”
“I haven’t!” Ethan snapped, heat rushing to his face as he darted around the coffee table like it was some flimsy shield that could protect him from what was coming next.
Devon gave a sharklike grin and began circling. “I heard that little groan at the club,” he said, as if savoring his own words. “When I had my hands on you… I felt you get hard. Don’t tell me that was nothing.”
The accusation was like a punch to the gut, and shame burned hot behind his ribs. That groan had been involuntary, but it had betrayed him in ways he hadn’t even realized at the time. Now it felt like a weapon against him.
“That wasn’t me wanting you,” Ethan said through clenched teeth. “That was you pushing things too damn far.” He straightened slightly even as his stomach churned violently beneath the surface. “Back off, Devon. I mean it.”
His words were more an amusing challenge than a warning, and circling the table, Devon closed in once more. “Back off?” he mocked, tilting his head like he was genuinely curious about the concept before shaking it slowly. “Nah… I don’t think so.” His grin widened into something crueler before his hand suddenly lashed out, faster than Ethan could react.
His fingers clamped around Ethan’s wrist and yanked him forward so forcefully that he stumbled into Devon’s chest.
Ethan wrenched himself free with everything he had left. “Get the fuck out!” The words ripped from his throat as he stumbled toward the door without taking his eyes off Devon for even a second. His chest rose and fell rapidly as adrenaline surged through every fiber of him.
For one fleeting moment, Devon paused as if considering retreat after all. But then that smug fucking grin reappeared. “You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be,” he said softly. It was almost conversational, but there was no mistaking how dangerous those words truly were beneath their veneer.
Ethan swallowed hard, setting his jaw tight as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d pushed Logan away, too stubborn to listen, and landed right where he’d been warned.
“ He’ll take it whether you’re ready or not.”
Regret stabbed deep alongside guilt—guilt for not listening. Devon wasn’t just pushy, he was dangerous, and Ethan wished he’d stayed at the bar. He wished he’d listened to Logan.