Then he sees what’s in my hand. I glance at it, too, and wince. I’m holding a rather long, quite girthy purple dildo. “Sorry to interrupt you two,” he drawls. I hurl the toy back in the bag and face him, my arms crossed over my chest. “You aren’t interrupting anything. I was just finding somewhere to put all this stuff.” His other brow joins the first. My body burns with the awareness of what I’ve just said.
