Page 37 of Feast

“I think so.” She planted her hands on the bed and pushed up. “Feeling it, though.”

“Not surprised,” he said and wrapped a warm arm around her waist from behind. “They were tied for almost an hour.”

“Really?” She blinked at the clock on the bedside table as he helped her stand. She leaned on him shamelessly, soaking up the warmth radiating from his bare skin. It was like being draped in a muscled, comforting blanket—as opposed to when he’d laid on top of her during sex, when he’d felt like a muscled, orgasm-giving blanket.

Either way, she had no complaints.

“Well, forty minutes,” he said, drawing her attention back to the subject at hand. “Still a long time.”

“I yield to your greater experience in this area,” she said and would’ve stayed in his arms if her bladder hadn’t been demanding her attention. “I gotta pee.”

“Need help getting there?” he asked, his arm loosening.

She wanted to whine for him to put it back but shook her head. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay, then,” he said, and let her go.

Her legs were shaky, but she managed to get to the bathroom without stumbling and quickly handled her most pressing business. She eyed the shower briefly—it was nicer than the one in her room—then rejected the idea of a solo wash-up. Unless he’d been bluffing, she owed him a shower throat-fuck, and she didn’t want him to think she’d renege on a deal.

She washed her hands, eyeing her reflection in the mirror with bemused wonder. Her hair was a wreck, her cheeks were still flushed, and there were indeed teeth marks on her right shoulder. Curious, she turned to look at her backside, her jaw dropping when she saw just how red her ass was—and just how far down her thighs the color went.

Bewildered by the pleasure that curled through her at the sight, she turned off the faucet, dried her hands, and stepped out of the bathroom. “Man, you weren’t kidding. My ass isred.”

“You’re welcome,” he said and held out a large bottle of water. “Want?”

“God, yes,” she said and took it, watching him as she guzzled. He was still naked, and so fucking sexy she felt a faint twinge of renewed desire.

Down, girl, she mentally ordered herself and lowered the bottle with a nod at his condom-free penis. “Good call getting rid of the condom right away this time.”

He winced at the reminder, then aimed a look of stern reproach. “You couldn’t have woken me up?”

“I tried to take it off you,” she told him. “You just grunted and rolled over.”

“And woke up with the condom glued to my dick and my dick glued to the sheets,” he countered, but the now familiar glimmer of humor was in his eyes.

“Kind of wish I’d stuck around to see that,” she said and held up the now empty water bottle. “Is there more of this?”

“On the desk.” He stretched out on the bed and stacked his hands behind his head, clearly comfortable with his unclothed state. “Are you always this thirsty?”

She uncapped the second bottle. “I am in Vegas. I always feel like all the moisture gets sucked out of my body as soon as the plane lands.”

“The desert will do that.” He reached for the cell phone he’d set on the nightstand. “I’ll get more from room service.”

“Can we get some food, too?” she began, pressing a hand to her suddenly rumbling belly, then stopped. “Unless you’d like me to go.”

He studied her for a moment. “That wouldn’t bother you? If I asked you to leave?”

She shrugged, feeling the stretch in her still sore shoulders. “I might think it was a little rude, but no, it wouldn’t bother me. Would it bother you if I left?”

“It might,” he said and set a fleet of butterflies loose in her belly. “You owe me a shower blowjob.”

She grinned at him, delighted. “Oh, good. I thought you might be bluffing.”

“I never bluff,” he told her and turned his attention to the phone in his hand. “What do you want to eat?”

She thought for a second. Dinner was probably going to be a feast, but not until after midnight. “Get me a cheeseburger and fries,” she decided. “Medium rare, no ketchup.”

“Want a Coke with it?”

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