Gasping for air and waving at him, I say, “If he’s not up to your standards . . . what would you do? Fork him up?” Hugh groans and stands. I inhale sharply. Every inch of him is toned and my body comes alive with anticipation. Still, I can’t stop from poking at him more. “Thankfully, my social life is none of your forking business.” He steps closer. “Done yet?” I choke on a giggle. “Not even forking close.”
