The evening sun dipped low over the city skyline, casting a warm glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Derek’s luxurious penthouse. He’d just gotten back from that frustrating hotel hookup with Kate, his mind still foggy from the distraction—images of Stiles’s nude flashing unbidden, making his cock twitch even as he tried to shake it off. He hopped in the shower, letting the hot water cascade over his ripped body, but it did nothing to ease the ache. Toweling off, he slipped into loose gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, commando underneath, the outline of his thick cock already semi-visible against the fabric. No shirt—his broad, muscled chest and abs still damp, veins popping from the steam.