Whatever had gotten into Suzanne, Josh wanted more of it. She was on fire that night. “Maybe I should make spaghetti sauce more often,” he whispered to her as they lay, spent and panting, on her big bed. Their s****l marathon had been interrupted by a break for pasta, but only briefly. Priorities…
“Anytime, hotshot. Anytime. A low-calorie option might be good too.”
“Nope. Won’t do it. Know how many calories I eat when I’m on a fire? Over four thousand a day.”
“You’re not on a fire,” she pointed out. She rested on her side, the long lines of her curves begging to be caressed.
“You sure about that?” He stroked her hip, enjoying the graceful turn of her hipbone, and the way her skin pebbled at his touch. “I think we just burned off that entire dinner. Hey, darlin’, want to burn up some ca
