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The walk back to the apartments happens in the blink of an eye. I’ve been carried back to my door by the wind, only to discover I don’t have my keyless wristband. I vaguely remember taking it off, but I can’t quite remember where I put it.
I stare down at the hallway floor miserably, feeling suddenly depressed. I’m going to have to make a home in the jungle now. Devon is gonna kill me if I’ve lost my keyless wristband. He’ll ship me home in a box. He already grumbles about it incessantly. If I go to him with a lost one, he might fire me.
Should probably go on and find some banana leaves and begin making my hut, I think as I turn to make my way back outside. That’s when I see Holden appearing like a mirage in the desert.
“What are you doing?” he asks, and I stare at him with wide eyes, not sure if I’m hallucinating. Wasn’t he just with someone else? Why is he here? He doesn’t seem like the type to leave a party early. Especially if the party is that hot.
And he’s wearing shorts, so I must be dreaming. I’m pretty sure that on nude night, he stays nude.
“Lost my key.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Lost a lot of things tonight, huh?” he says, and I pout. “Come on, you can stay with me. Tomorrow we can go find them. Usually Polly collects items left on the beach before she leaves. We can’t let stuff just sit out or Bob makes off with it.”
He grabs my hand, and I let him pull me down the hallway to his apartment. When I’m inside, it all comes rushing back to me—the blow job, the sex.
God, I wanna have sex again.
“Not happening,” he says, and I frown. Did I say that out loud? I mean, he doesn’t have to be so adamant about it.
“Tell that to my dick. It has ideas now,” I murmur, and Holden glances down at my tented boxers, his cheeks flushing.
“I can resist temptation. Now go drink some water. I’ll make up the couch.”
My feet carry me over to the kitchen where I fill up a cup, gulping it down and watching Holden set some linens on the sofa. Part of me wanted him to invite me to stay with him in his bed, but some vague memory in my mind whispers that he doesn’t sleep with people.
I mean, he sleeps with people, but he doesn’tsleepwith them.
My bladder twitches, and I sigh, moving into his bathroom and taking a long-drawn-out piss. Feels damn good. I wanna piss when I’m high all the time. Wonder what taking a shit would feel like. Probably feels oddly satisfying.
“You okay in there? Not drowning in the toilet?” Holden asks, and I turn to glance at the door that I left wide open.
Holden peeks his head around the corner and takes me in, dick still in my hand, boxers around my thighs.
“Not dead then,” he adds with a smile. “Just in a daze.”
“Pissing feels good when you’re high.”
He chuckles and then walks over to me, helping me pull my boxers up, struggling a bit because they’re tight.
“These aren’t mine,” I say, and Holden arches an eyebrow at me.
“You just go around wearing other men’s underwear?”
I shrug, and he leads me to the sink and helps me wash my hands. I like this. I like it a whole lot. He can wash my hands every damn day.
“Alright, come on. You need to sleep this off.”
He leads me to the couch and then pulls the covers back, and I slide into them, my legs spilling over the side.
“You don’t fit,” he says as I pull the covers up over my chin and blink at him.
“Should probably sleep in your bed.”
He rolls his eyes as he worries his bottom lip. “I don’t ever do that.”
He doesn’t move though, just stares down at me as I just gaze up at him.
“Alright, fine. Just this once. But don’t tell a soul. I don’t want people to get expectations.”
