How long he stayed like that, face hidden against the bed, Derek didn’t know. By the time he rolled over, Kellen was gone. In the kitchen, the clatter of pans suggested that his friend rooted through the cabinets, looking for something to eat. Self-loathing filled Derek like a disease, making his throbbing head pound in fury, his heart stutter in his chest. Slowly he pushed himself up from the bed, out of his own drying juices. Then he stood and, in a sudden rage, yanked the sheets from the bed. He heard the fitted sheet rip near the headboard but didn’t care—he pulled it free, a snarl twisting his lips. The audacity of Kellen to take him, here, here, where Tad’s memory still slept! This one doesn’t count. Like hell it didn’t. Derek felt violated, despite the fact his body had been a willi
