Page 51 of Feast

“I’m going to need more beer,” he decided.

9

“Now, wasn’t that fun?” Maddie asked cheerfully three hours later. “And it didn’t take long at all.”

Spence lifted his head from the table, where it had been resting in despair for the last thirty minutes. “You’re a sick, twisted woman.”

She closed her laptop and reached her arms overhead in a joint-popping stretch. “I’m hungry. You want to get some food?”

“Sure,” he mumbled, distracted by the way her tits moved under her sweater. It was the color of spring grass and had a wide neckline that had been falling off her shoulder for the last three hours, giving him a tantalizing view of creamy bare skin and the strap of her bra, which matched the sweater. It was the only thing that had kept him from falling asleep out of sheer boredom.

She dropped her arms and the sweater slid off her shoulder again. “Tacos,” she said, shrugging it back into place. “Or maybe pizza.”

He just grunted and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Which one?” she asked, and he looked up at her.

She looked fresh as a daisy, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, and he felt like he’d spent the last three hours watching a documentary on wallpaper paste. “I honestly don’t think I have enough brain cells left to decide.”

“You need carbs,” she said decisively and picked up her phone. “We’ll get pizza and cheesy breadsticks. You good with pepperoni and olives?”

“That works,” he decided and gathered the empty beer bottles from the table—one of hers, two of his—and carried them to the kitchen. “Want another beer?”

“Yes, please.”

He pulled a pair from the fridge, noting with a frown that it was the last of his stash. “See if they’ll deliver beer with the pizza.”

“They don’t, I’ve tried before.”

“What the hell good are they, then?” he grumbled and handed her a bottle.

“Their cheesy breadsticks are killer.” She put down her phone. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Through there,” he said, pointing, and since it was there, watched her ass bounce as she walked across the room.

When the bathroom door shut behind her he took his beer to the sofa, plopped himself down, and closed his eyes. He thought about finding something on television, but the Lions game was over by now, and he didn’t have the energy to channel-surf. When the bathroom door opened, he deliberately kept his eyes closed.

“Since we’re friends now, I should tell you I snooped in your bedroom,” she said, and he listened to her footsteps cross the room. The sofa cushion beside him sagged under her weight.

He kept his eyes closed. “Find anything interesting?”

“Well, your bed is ridiculously big,” she said. “What is that, an Alaska king?”

He grunted. “Wyoming. Alaska wouldn’t fit.”

“Well, you could have an orgy in there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to have one.”

“I don’t recommend it.”

That got him to open his eyes. “Have some experience with orgies, do you?”

She shrugged, her sweater slipping off her shoulder again.

“I had fun in college.”

“If it was fun, why don’t you recommend it?”

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