18
LEAH
I’d never felt hunger like it. Not for food and not for a man. But after four rounds in the bedroom, each growing gradually less frantic as we learned each other’s bodies and how to make them sing, I was flagging. Kevin dug up a menu for Il Tramonto, and we ordered enough carbs to feed six people. I fully intended to eat a third of the feast myself.
Quiet snoring came from the living room. The run at the freedom field followed by a carrot hunt had tired Brian out, and he hadn’t eaten a single item of furniture while we were busy in the bedroom. It had been a really good day.
“Sorry about your shirt,” Kevin said as he laid the table. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Forget it.”
Hell, I was keeping the tattered shirt as a souvenir. Maybe I’d even frame it. I glanced toward the painti
