Page 51 of Spilled Coffee

The ceramic was warm against Ethan’s palm, and when he took a tentative sip, bitterness bloomed across his tongue. Black coffee wasn’t usually his thing, but right now it felt reassuring. He glanced up quickly before looking away—anywhere but at those sharp eyes that seemed intent on peeling back layers until there was nothing left hidden.

“It’s… okay,” he said, though even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

Devon leaned an elbow against the counter and tilted his head, as if studying Ethan from a new angle might reveal something more. “Just okay?” he pressed, light but persistent.

Ethan shrugged, then forced what he hoped passed for a casual smile. “You know how these things are.”

Devon’s expression said he didn’t know, and Ethan felt cornered by his gaze. The truth was messier than anything he could articulate right now: Logan’s silence since last night had left him adrift, but discussing it with Devon… it felt like betrayal. As though speaking aloud about what they’d shared would shatter any connection that still existed between them.

Before Devon could probe further or before Ethan could stumble through another half-lie, his phone buzzed.

Giving you a heads up… Target package dropped. Get your ass here.

Brick. The message felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on Ethan’s head.

Devon’s brows knitted tightly as he placed his coffee cup beside Ethan’s. He breathed out slowly, his tone almost too casual. “Sure… I know how it is.” But even as the words rolled off his tongue, his eyes lingered on Ethan’s face. There was something behind them, a flicker of darker thoughts that seemed to cut like the edge of a blade grazing skin.

Ethan shifted and moved toward the door, gesturing as if to usher him out. The air in the hallway always felt different—stale and cool against his exposed skin. The faint draft brushed over his shoulders, then sneaked up under the towel slung low around his hips.

He glanced at Devon as he reached the door. “Thanks for last night. I really appreciate it.” Ethan’s voice carried a note of sincerity despite the awkwardness, and he hesitated for a split second before adding a weak chuckle designed to lighten the mood. “Maybe I could buy you a beer when I’m back… just one this time.”

The laugh didn’t quite land the way he hoped.

Devon paused, leaning slightly against the door. His massive frame seemed to block out what little light spilled from the stairwell beyond, and for a moment, he just stood there, studying Ethan. His dark eyes trailed languidly downward.

Ethan swallowed. Devon’s eyes seemed like those of a predator sizing up prey. They dragged over his chest with deliberate slowness, lingering on every curve and dip of muscle before dipping lower still to where the towel still clung precariously to his hips.

“You’re staring,” Ethan said, his voice coming out quieter than he intended. He’d been trying to sound annoyed but couldn’t quite manage it. There was something in Devon’s stare that made him feel exposed in ways a flimsy towel couldn’t protect against.

Devon didn’t answer. He moved without warning, his hand darting forward, lightning striking its mark, catching Ethan off guard as it closed over him through the thin layer of cotton.

“Whoa—” Ethan gasped, stumbling back half a step as Devon’s grip held firm. The shock stole his breath, leaving him frozen in place. Heat surged through him—heat born of both embarrassment and something far more primal.

Devon’s lips curved up into a smug smile, full of triumph. “Were you flirting with me just now, Ethan Parker?” His voice taunted, each word laced with a dangerous kind of amusement that made Ethan’s pulse quicken.

Devon’s fingers tightened, sliding along Ethan’s growing erection—a much rougher touch than Logan’s, but oddly… electrifying.

Ethan’s body was betraying him. His cock stiffened fully under Devon’s unrelenting hand, blood rushing southward even as his mind screamed for control.

He hated how obvious it was—how much power Devon seemed to have. “Stop,” he finally managed, though it came out more like a plea than an order.

Devon chuckled, but didn’t immediately let go. Instead, he leaned in, breath warm against Ethan’s ear, and murmured, “You know… you should drop by the spa when you’re back.” His free hand grazed Ethan’s shoulder briefly before retreating. “I’ll give those muscles of yours a real going-over.” He pulled back enough to meet Ethan’s wide-eyed stare and added a smirk that practically dripped arrogance. “Then you can buy me a beer after—a way to say thanks.”

Ethan blinked, trying to process what had just happened. “Uh… yeah,” he stammered, trying to form words through the haze clouding his thoughts. “I’ll…” he swallowed, “I’ll think about it.”

Devon released him, then stepped back with an air of satisfaction. It was as though he’d won some unspoken game Ethan hadn’t realized they were playing. His dark gaze lingered for another beat before shifting. “What I told you last night,” he began, folding his arms in a way that only emphasized their size, “though you might not remember… Logan’s not the hearts-and-flowers type. If you’re looking for more than a casual fuck,” he continued bluntly, “he won’t deliver.”

Ethan frowned but said nothing. He too crossed his arms—not defensively but a more instinctive reaction to feeling cornered. “I’m not looking for serious,” he shot back, a little too quickly, perhaps. His tone was firmer, but he took another step back into the safety of his apartment, and away from whatever game Devon seemed intent on playing. “And I have no idea where things are going with Logan, but I’m enjoying it for what it is right now.” He paused briefly before adding, “Thanks for the concern.”

Devon shrugged, unfazed by Ethan’s deflection or maybe even amused by it. “Okay,” he said, still wearing that maddening fucking smirk—the one that made it impossible to tell whether he meant anything he said or if he was just testing boundaries for fun. “But,” he added, stepping closer again, “I guess that’s why you didn’t stop me last night when I did this…”

His hand shot out, fingers tangling in the damp curls at the nape of Ethan’s neck. His grip wasn’t gentle, it was firm, commanding, and left no room for protest.

He yanked Ethan forward, their mouths colliding in a bruising kiss, hard and unyielding.

Devon’s tongue surged past Ethan’s lips, invading his mouth with an insistence that spoke volumes. This wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

The bitter taste of coffee mingled with something primal, and as Devon’s breath ghosted Ethan’s face, his mind blanked. Every thought he had derailed, and his body stiffened like a live wire caught in a current. Muscles locked in place, and for one frantic, stuttering beat, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

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