Page 28 of The Last Key
I’m gettingcomfortable in bed when Devon walks into the room shirtless, in gray mother effing sweats. Why are they sexier than other colors? Seriously, I was shopping for sweatpants the other day and saw some unisex ones. I flicked through all the colors and stopped to ogle the male model in the gray ones only. Exact same picture and I couldn’t see any peen outlines, but still, the gray was sexier.
At this point, he might know how women feel about a man in gray sweats and he’s doing this on purpose. Every day our teasing reaches a new level. I’m not complaining. It’s fun seeing how he’ll react and getting that little thrill every time he says or does something I’m not expecting.
“You okay?” he asks, and I realize I’m ogling him like I did the sweatpants model.
“Fine. Just thinking you should be a sweatpants model.”
He stops in his tracks and looks down. Then he grins. “Oh? Why? Do they look good on me?”
Why bother pretending? Claire made a good point that I won’t know if I don’t try. I might not be as brazen as her, but I can keep having fun with this. Eventually, there will be a moment, right? Or one of us will break. Maybe we’ll both break at the same time in a super-hot moment where we rip each other’s clothes off, and then—oh god. Claire’s right. I do need to get laid.
“Kennedy,” Devon rumbles, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to me, his eyes burning into me. If I wasn’t horny before…
“Hm?”
“I asked if you thought I look good in these. Then you spaced out.” He raises his eyebrows.
Clearing my throat, I lean forward and run my hand along his waistband. “You look hot in these.” His eyes widen as I lean closer, and he swallows hard. “So hot you should probably take them off.” Then I pull on the waistband and snap it against his stomach before leaning back as I laugh.
“Oh, you think you’re funny?”
He stands up as I continue laughing. Then, the smile slides right off my face as he pulls the waistband away and rolls his hips while slowly pulling them down, leaving him in tight boxer briefs.
Don’t look at his penis. Don’t. Do not. No peen.
I force my eyes up to the ceiling, and now he’s laughing. He drops the pants on the floor and climbs onto the bed, purposely climbing over me to get to his side. “Now who’s hot?”
I smack his chest as he sits down beside me.
“Hey, Dev?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever thought about modeling again?”
He tosses the covers up and slides underneath them, flipping his lamp off as he does, so mine is the only one illuminating the room.
“I still model sometimes.”
“For charity and local stuff, but I mean get back into it. Maybe not what Justin does, but…”
“Honestly? Not really. Sometimes I think about it. There were parts of it that were fun for sure. When Justin and I did that underwear campaign in our early twenties, we had so much fun. But as social media became a fixture in everyone’s lives, it just got harder for me to enjoy it. I’m not like Justin. I don’t want to take pictures with fans at every Starbucks I walk into. Why do you ask?”
I shrug. “Just curious what you see for your future.”
“Oh. This… I guess.”
“Sound more excited,” I tease.
“It’s not that I’m not excited. I guess I just feel like I’m already living my future. Or rather, that what comes next isn’t about a job.”
“That makes sense.”
“What about you? What does your future look like?”
I groan. “You weren’t supposed to ask me. I barely know what next week looks like, other than the reunion.”
“Okay, what would the dream be?”
