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Twenty-Two
Wes
There are glow-in-the-dark stick-on stars on the ceiling of Devon’s study. If that’s not the most random thing I’ve ever come across, I don’t know what is.
I’m not entirely sure what possessed me to come in here earlier. I was on my way back from the loo when I noticed the door to this room was ajar and, what can I say? Curiosity got the best of me. So now I’m stretched out on the office settee, still completely starkers but relatively comfortable with a thick throw blanket covering me and the central air blowing warmth down from the ducts in the ceiling. I should definitely get back to bed and warm myself up in a far sexier manner, but if I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that Devon doesnotappreciate being woken early on the weekends. And as fun as it is to make him mad, I’d like to avoid any more kicks to the shin if I can help it.
I must doze off, because it feels like barely any time has passed before I hear his husky morning voice speaking from the doorway. “I thought you’d left. What are you doing in here?”
I crack my eyes open, once again seeing the ceiling covered in stars. The glow isn’t as bright anymore now that daylight is creeping through the cracks in the closed blind. “Just looking up at the stars. Bold design choice, but I think it works.”
Devon lets out a little breath of laughter and steps into the room, coming to sit on the floor beside the couch. “Thanks, but I can’t take the credit. This was here when I moved in. The couple I bought the place from had a little girl who died from brain cancer not long before they sold the place,” he says solemnly. “I just didn’t have the heart to take them down.”
My breath leaves me in a suddenwhoosh. “Shit. That’s horrible.”
“Yeah. I know it’s pretty silly to keep them. I mean, I didn’t even know her.”
“It’s not silly,” I assure him. I can’t tell him it’s basically the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. No way am I admittingthatto Devon Montgomery. Instead, I opt to change the subject. “Why on earth would you think I’d gone home?”
“Well, you weren’t in bed, or in the kitchen, or in the bathroom,” he reasons. “Of course, I should have known I’d find you sleeping naked on the settee in my office.”
“I’ve been discovered sleeping naked in weirder places.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Devon says wryly.
I roll onto my side, getting my first good look at Devon since he entered the room. I let out a harsh gasp when I see what he’s wearing—it’s my red Freddie Mercury t-shirt, which I wore over here last night. “Thief!”
He just shrugs and offers me a wry smile. “You weren’t wearing it.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I suppose this means I get to wear anything of yours that you’re not wearing then?”
His brows creep up in consideration. “I suppose…”
“Excellent.” I throw the blanket off and climb up from the settee, striding naked from the study and into Devon’s bedroom. I make a beeline for his walk-in wardrobe t and select a pair of his uber-soft jogging bottoms, tugging them on.
I’m about to open his t-shirt drawer when I decide to mess with him a little, instead choosing the thin drawer at the top that runs twice the length of the ones below it. I open it to reveal an array of at least thirty luxury watches, each one pristine and gleaming. There’s also a smaller collection of leather, gold, and platinum bands displayed in a separate partition.
Reaching out, I select a vintage Tag Heuer with a black leather band, bringing it closer to better examine the face.
“Uh…when I said anything, I didn’t really mean—”
As adorable as his sudden panic is, I decide to put him out of his misery. Setting the watch back in its place, I let out a soft chuckle. “You can relax. I don’t need to walk around with twenty thousand pounds strapped to my wrist to compensate for something.”
Devon arches an eyebrow at me. “And you think I do?”
I cast a meaningful glance at his crotch. “Not anymore. Which begs the question—why do you have all of these?”
“Because I like them,” he says simply. “And I’m fortunate enough to be in a position where I can afford them.”
“But why so many?” I ask curiously. “Surely one is enough? Or maybe two…”
He offers a wry smirk as his eyes travel up and down my body. “A lot of people would say the same about your tattoos and piercings.”
I scoff. “My ink and piercings didn’t cost me hundreds of thousands of pounds.”
He nods. “True. But as sexy as they are, they’re never going to go up in value. My watch collection will.” He reaches out and selects a Rolex from the drawer, eyeing it reverently as he runs his thumb over the platinum links of the band. “This one’s already worth double what I bought it for ten years ago.”
I stare at him, stunned. “You’re shitting me.”
