and hold up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t face the same pressures as you.”
The set of her shoulders relaxes, and she stands up a little straighter. “Thank you.”
I step over to the desk where a padded binder stands next to the phone. “I am going to order cake from room service, though. You’re welcome to share it with me.”
She’s quiet while I look over the dessert options, taking my time, even though I’m pretty much decided within seconds.
“Get chocolate, please.”
Looking up at her, I offer a lopsided smile. “Isn’t wedding cake traditionally white?”
“Who cares?” she shoots back. “It’s not like we’ve had a traditional wedding.”
“Good point,” I murmur, the meaning behind her words hanging in the air between us. It’s not like it was a real wedding.
And dammit, part of me really wishes it were.
Chapter Sixteen
Alexis
Despite my initial fears that our night in the Honeymoon Suite might turn awkward after our minor tiff over my diet, it doesn’t. And I’ll concede that Colt is right that I deserve a cheat day on my wedding day of all days. And it’s not like I’ve eaten much all day anyway, so I have enough calories banked that I’m not blowing my diet too badly with the cake he orders.
We settle into our usual routine of chatting while we eat the meal Delores ordered for us. The cake arrives just as we’re finishing, and I hold my stomach and groan. “I don’t know if I can eat any more.”
Colt scoops a bite of cake onto the fork and holds it out to me. “Just one bite. It’s traditional.”
I give him a dubious look. “I’m pretty sure the tradition is that we feed each other a bite of cake with our fingers.”
He sets the fork back on the plate. “I can do that. More frosting or less frosting?”
“No!” I protest, eyes wide. “Use the fork. The fork is fine.”
Laughing, he picks up the fork again and holds it in front of my mouth. With a smile on my face, I stare at him for a long moment, waiting for him to calm down enough that the fork isn’t jiggling anymore.
But the longer I stare at him, the more he laughs, so I eventually wrap my fingers around his wrist to hold his hand steady and take the bite of cake from the fork.
Rich, moist chocolate bursts on my tongue, and I let out an involuntary moan.
Colt’s laughter dies, and his face is deadly serious, his eyes intent on my lips.
But he clears his throat, breaking the spell of the moment and turns back to the cake. “That good, huh?”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out far too husky for trying not to add fuel to the sexual tension fire. I clear my throat and try again. “Yeah, it’s really good. Here. My turn.”
He holds up a hand and tries to wave me off. “Nah, that’s alright. You’re right. It’s silly.”
“Nope,” I interrupt. “You insisted. Come here.”
Standing, I pick up his fork from his dinner plate and get a big bite from the cake plate in his hand. “Here.” Once again my voice is too husky, too filled with … want.
His blue eyes seem to see inside me as he opens his mouth and closes his lips around the fork. It shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, but daaaaamn.
I’m about to combust, and he’s not even touching me.
He pulls his head back, and the tines slide out from between his lips as his eyes close. An appreciative sound comes from deep in his throat. “You’re right,” he rasps. “That’s good cake.”
“Right. Yeah. It is.”
The fork hits the table with a clatter, because watching him enjoy a bite of cake is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in way, way too long and I no longer have control of my motor functions.
Good lord, I need …
Well, I was about to say I need a man. But I have one, technically.
Only I’ve decided he’s off limits.
What the hell am I going to do with myself?
Clearing my throat I slide back into my seat. “I know I said I couldn’t eat anymore, but I’ll hate myself forever if I don’t have more of that cake.”
“Right,” Colt says, the word stilted, perfunctory. “Me too.” Only part of me suspects he’s not really talking about the cake.
Even so, he resumes his seat, and I clear a space for him to set the cake between us. We eat it in silence for several minutes before