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“Nope,” he says and then glances over his shoulder at me. “Just the right kind of pain.”
I don’t like the sound of that, but he disappears into the bathroom before I can say so. I just stare at the door, still on my back on the bed, not sure what to do, where to go. I don’t even have my wristband, and the boxers I was wearing aren’t even mine. How the fuck am I supposed to get back to my place?
I hear a tapping on the window, and I crane my neck to the side.
There he is, the monkey, my flip-flop around his waist and a pair of women’s underwear on his head. In his little hand is a banana that he’s chewing slowly while eyeing me with disdain.
He witnessed my bad decision and didn’t look away once.
“Don’t judge me,” I murmur as I push myself up and cup my junk so he doesn’t see my dick. Not that he didn’t just see me rail into Holden, but still.
I need a little privacy.
I find the boxers that aren’t mine and wiggle them on. I pull on my shirt, trying like hell to keep myself from going into the bathroom. He obviously wants me to leave because he’s hiding out, so I stride to the door, hoping I can find Polly to maybe find my damn key.
I do not want to make the walk of shame to Devon and ask him to find me a spare. Not after I saw his nutsack last night.
So many nuts.
Coconuts.
God, I’m never smoking weed again.
I pull the door open and peer back over my shoulder. The monkey is still eyeing me, the banana gone. It’s munching on the peel, and I wonder if this monkey is a normal one. I don’t think they eat the banana peels.
He must be a sociopathic monkey.
This island is doomed.
I should leave.
And I would if it wasn’t for the glorious ass that I keep getting to partake in. I don’t even know if I wanna keep doing this.
But then I think about how damn good it felt to curl up next to him last night, to bury myself in the deepest parts of him, and I know that I would come back so damn fast.
I’d be back in a heartbeat.
He’s my exception.
The only one.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Chase
I’m eyeing Devon as we stand in the gigantic laundry room, working on one of the industrial dryers. I made it into my room after escaping Holden’s apartment by sheer luck. Atlas had walked out of his room at just the right time and showed me a trick on how to break in.
Slightly disconcerting, but I was happy to put some actual clothes on. Devon’s disapproving scowl is not something I wanted to deal with all day. And that’s exactly what he’d give me if I’d shown up in my boxers.
“Damn thing,” Devon says, and I glance down at my phone again. I’m handy, but most of the time I really don’t know what I’m doing. YouTube is a lifesaver. I grew up watching so many how-to tutorials while trying to fix something on the farm. It’s what I’m doing now, actually, trying to look like I know what I’m doing.
I’m a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of guy.
“Put that phone away, son,” Devon murmurs. “I can teach you how it’s done.”
I’m not so sure about that with the way he’s muttering to himself. But still, I shove the phone into my back pocket and eye him as he kneels on the ground, his head stuck inside the dryer barrel. All I can see is his ass, and I swear it doesn’t compare to Holden’s.
I mean, nothing compares to his. His is the exception to the rule. Scientists should study his ass for textbooks.
