“Are we done eating?” There’s a ragged noise as I clear my throat, but I’m basically just in a trance. Ready and willing to worship at the altar of Colt Wilder—sex god and rugged fantasy made flesh. “Food? Yes.” He lets go of my chin, sliding firm hands underneath my ass, effortlessly lifting me, and I have to throw my arms around his neck to steady myself. “You? No. I’m nowhere near satisfied, angel.”
