Page 36 of Starved

“Nice, man.”

“It was. Is,” Evan amended. “I’m making dinner for him tonight. Grilled ribeyes, twice-baked potatoes, roasted asparagus. And this lemon tart my sister-in-law makes for dessert.”

“Before or after you tie him up and fuck him?”

“Before,” Evan began, then paused when Spence shook his head. “What?”

“Remember Thanksgiving?”

“Oh. Right.” The Thanksgiving orgy at Tuck and Esme’s almost hadn’t happened because all the participants had been in a food coma. “Fuck first.”

Spence nodded. “It’s all fun and games until somebody pukes on your dick.”

Evan grimaced. “Ew.”

“Just saying.”

Highly uncomfortable with the images now dancing in his brain, Evan cast about for a change of subject. “How’s the garage working out for you? Business is good?”

There was a glimmer of humor in Spence’s shark-like gaze. “Good enough. Not a lot of custom work yet, mostly basic maintenance and minor repairs. It keeps the lights on. And living above the shop is a perk, even if it is a dump.”

Evan glanced around the room, assessing. The apartment was an open living space with a kitchen along the back wall, a bathroom big enough for a sink, toilet, and shower, and a single bedroom. The space was big enough not to feel cramped, but that was probably because the only furniture was the sectional, the coffee table, and a small dining table with the single chair Evan had been using for bondage practice.

“I don’t think it’s a dump,” Evan decided. “It’s just not fancy.”

“I don’t spend much time up here, so I don’t care,” Spence said with a shrug. “But my mom is making noises about decorating.”

Evan had to grin. Spence’s mom enjoyed luxury and didn’t understand why her only child had no use for it. “That’s nice.”

“No, it’s not,” Spence countered, an edge creeping into his voice. “What the fuck do I care about rugs and curtains?”

Evan tucked his tongue into his cheek. It was so rare to see Spence flustered. “They add warmth and depth to a room?”

“I don’t need rugs, there’s carpet already,” Spence said, prompting Evan to look down. There was indeed carpeting, a thin industrial beige that looked as though it had been laid at least a decade before the turn of the century. “And what’s wrong with blinds?”

“Nothing,” Evan said, shifting his gaze to the ones covering the trio of windows that faced the street. One of them hung straight, but the other two had broken slats in at least three places. “Blinds are efficient.”

“And pillows,” Spence went on, heating up. “She’s buying me pillows.”

“Pillows are nice,” Evan replied, enjoying himself. “Soft and cozy.”

“On a bed,” Spence countered. “But she’s talking about throw pillows. Beaded ones, for the couch.”

“You don’t like beads?”

“They’re ridiculous,” Spence all but growled. “You can’t rest your head on a beaded pillow. And she says I need a new couch.”

Evan eyed the sectional. It was a sturdy box of black leather and cushions, amazingly comfortable and ugly as sin. “Um.”

“I don’t want a new couch. I can nap on this couch, put my feet on it. The one she showed me was orange tufted velvet. What the fuck am I supposed to do with orange tufted velvet?”

“I have no idea,” Evan said honestly. “Get some orange beaded pillows?”

Spence scowled. “Blow me.”

“No, thanks,” Evan replied cheerfully. “I got a man.”

Spence’s lips twitched once, then turned down in a fresh scowl. “You’d think with the wedding coming up, she’d have enough to do without worrying about my damn décor.”

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