Phil’s POV
Theo was fast asleep, apparently worn out from . . . from doing all of that.
My ass hurt. All of it. I was sure I had handprint bruises all over my backside and I was swollen. Sore. He’s . . . horrible. The worst.
I glared at his sleeping form.
He looks so peaceful like this. Almost angelic, features softened with unconsciousness.
The devil was handsome too, wasn’t he?
I heard the door downstairs and, ignoring the pain, I dragged my body up to pull some clothes on, tossing a blanket over him in case his parents came upstairs.
Why does he get to sleep after all of that?
I should be sleeping. Recovering.
I was the one who took a beating.
“Boys!” Cliff called.
Stumbling to my feet, I raked my hand through my hair, forcing
