Xavier’s eyes flickered to Rutledge’s Mercedes. He shrugged lazily. “I don’t need a flashy car for that.”
“Nicely done, guys, that wasn’t passive-aggressive at all,” Shawn said, suppressing the urge to facepalm. He looked at Xavier. “Don’t take it personally—he’s nasty to everyone. And you”—Shawn looked at Rutledge—“tone it down a bit. He’s an ex-convict, not your student.”
“He’s a criminal?” In a blink of an eye, Shawn was yanked away from Xavier and pushed behind Rutledge’sback.
“Hey! Are you out of—”
“Get in your car and drive away,” Rutledge told Xavier. “Stay away from him or I’ll make sure you’ll be back in your cell in no time.”
Xavier narrowed his eyes, his amusement gone. “You think you can threaten me?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Shawn stepped between the two men, putting a hand on Rutledge’s chest. He glared at them. Arrogant idiots. “You.” He looked at Xavier. “Thanks for the ride, but please go home and fuck my cousin. No one’s threatening you—it’s just Rutledge’s charming personality. Go.”
Xavier nodded stiffly, climbed into his car and started it.
When the car disappeared out of sight, Shawn turned to Rutledge. “And you. What happened to jealousy being ‘for men with small dicks and low self-esteem?’”
“Nothing,” Rutledge said testily. “Are you stupid? Do you know what criminals like him do to pretty boys like you in prison? Men like him aren’t used to asking.”
Shawn chuckled. “Are you worried for me? I’m touched. Careful, or I’ll start thinking you actually give a damn.”
Rutledge glowered at him but said nothing.
“What are you even doing here?” Shawn asked. Belatedly, he realized his hand was still on Rutledge’s chest and was stroking it. Quickly, he removed it and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. He glanced at Rutledge’s car. “Wait, were you waiting for me?”
“Yes.”
“Why? You could have called if you wanted to talk. You have my number.”
“I don’t. I erased it.”
Shawn’s eyebrows flew up. “Why? Did it bother you?”
A muscle twitched at Rutledge’s temple. “Because I had no need for it.”
“Then why are you here?”
Rutledge’s lips pressed together, his eyes boring into Shawn. “I’m here to warn you.”
“Warn me?”
“Yes, to warn you. Your performance in my class continues to be terrible—”
“Because you’ve been absolutely brutal!”
“—so don’t expect me to pass you only because of your pretty face, and lips, and eyes, and—” Rutledge cut himself off and glared at Shawn, as if it was his fault he’d just said what he said. “My point is, you won’t get special treatment, Wyatt.”
Shawn leaned toward his lips and whispered harshly, “And you came all the way here just to tell me that? I call bullshit.”
Their breathing mixed, both swift and strained, the only sound in Shawn’s ears.
Christ, Shawn couldn’t stand it anymore. He was trembling, aching—
When Rutledge crushed their lips together, the first thing Shawn felt was relief. God, finally. And then everything else faded away; there were big hands on his nape, a firm body against his, and lips, hot and searing—so good—and Shawn was moaning, trying to kiss him harder, take him deeper.
He had no idea how much time had passed when his cell phone went off in the pocket of his jacket.
With a sigh of frustration, Shawn tore his lips away and answered it.
