I squeezed her hand. “It’s pretty awesome that you are. Gonna be worth it.” And I meant it on both counts.
“If you say so.” She ran a hand through her loose blond waves, stealing another nervous glance at me. Then she turned her attention back to the display with a hint of curiosity on her face.
See? I knew she had a naughty side. It was just buried really, really deep.
And uncovering it would be half the fun.
My gaze fell to an app-operated turquoise vibrator, my interest piquing. Remote control. The display said the app worked remotely from different locations. Holy shit. If I could get James off while I was out of town for hockey, that would be the fucking sexiest thing ever. Definitely not happening today, but it was going on my shopping list for later.
“What about this?” I grabbed a hot pink silicone bullet vibe off the shelf and examined it. It looked and felt high-end, with a contoured shape, and it wasn’t much larger than my thumb. It was about as cute and non-threatening as a sex toy could get.
Bailey eyed it warily, like it might bite. “I don’t know.”
Turning it over, I switched the button on the base to low. It hummed quietly, vibrating in a pulsing pattern. I pushed another button, and it moved in a slower, wavelike rhythm. Versatile. Nice.
“Look, it has different settings.” I held it out to her, changing the pattern again to a steady vibration. “See? It’s not scary.”
She furrowed her brow and reached out, poking it with her finger. “Huh,” she said. “It’s softer than I thought it would be.”
“Potential?”
“You tell me.” Bailey shrugged. “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
“We can keep looking if you want.” I switched it off and set it back on the shelf, scanning the other toys. “This one looks like a tube of lipstick. This one fits on your finger. This one has suction…”
“This first one sounds fine.” She turned, surveying the store for onlookers—like she might randomly stumble upon a college classmate in a random sex toy boutique downtown. “Should we go pay?”
“Yeah. Let me look at the box for a second.” Fifteen speeds, ten different rhythms, anatomically designed, made out of medical grade silicone with a USB charger. So theoretically, I could charge it in my truck. Handy. And a six-hour battery life, which I couldn’t see using in one go, but good to know.
Bailey laughed. “You’re acting like you’re buying a car.” Then her eyes fell to the price tag, widening. “Oh my god. You practically are. It’s a hundred and twenty dollars.”
“Good toys aren’t cheap,” I said. “Plus, think of where it’s going.” We’d already established that I was paying, and it wasn’t up for discussion, so there wasn’t much more she could say to that.
I held up the box. “You in agreement?”
“Sure.”
I snagged a bottle of toy cleaner to go with it, and we made our way to the cash register by the doors. Contrary to my joke about Carl, the sales associate working the register was a chick. She was close to our age, heavily tattooed with a septum piercing, and a name tag that read Harriet. Weird. She did not look like a Harriet.
She glanced up from the worn paperback she was reading, bookmarking her spot and setting it aside. “Find everything you were looking for?”
“Sure did,” I said, passing her the items.
Bailey gave her a polite, albeit uneasy, smile. I squeezed her hand again, and she squeezed it back. She’d actually come, and I was stoked that she did.
And eager to get her back to my place.
Harriet scanned the vibrator box and the bottle of toy cleaner, then I handed her my credit card. There was a display of massage candles beside the register that looked intriguing, but we could circle back to that one later too. My list kept getting longer and longer.
“Since you spent over thirty dollars today, you get a complimentary sample of flavored lube,” she said, printing out my receipt and placing it in the small black and pink bag.
“Cool,” I said.
The cashier pointed to the display. “Which flavor do you want?”
“You pick.” I nudged Bailey.
“Huh?” She snapped out of her daze, glancing over at the bottles on display: mango, pink lemonade, strawberry, watermelon. “Um…strawberry?” she squeaked, cheeks turning pink. Adorable.
The salesclerk tossed a tiny sample bottle into the bag and slid it across the counter. Bailey grabbed it, which I took as a massive win.
“Next time, I’ll pack sunglasses and a hat for you,” I said, throwing an arm over her shoulders and kissing the top of her head as we headed for the door. “You can go incognito.”
“Oh my god, no.” She glanced up at me. “Next time we’re ordering online.”
“So you’re open to expanding your toy collection down the road?”
Bailey laughed. “Never change, Carter.”
“You wanna swing by the handcuffs on the way out, or…？”
“I’m good,” she said. “Maybe next time.”
Wait, what?
I turned to look at her. “Really?”
“I said maybe.”
Pushing the door open, I held it for her, and we headed back outside into the chilly fall air. The weather had taken a turn, reminding us that winter was imminent.
“Food time?” My truck beeped from afar as I hit the remote start, the engine roaring to life.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m starving.”
I guided her to the passenger-side door and backed her up against it. My hands found her waist and I leaned in, kissing her quickly. Had to keep it brief because I was already too worked up for my own good. Plus, she smelled delicious, like vanilla and Bailey. Good enough to eat. Literally.
Hmm. Maybe we could skip that meal.
We pulled apart and I studied her face. “What are you in the mood for?”
“I’m not sure.” She shrugged, lips quirking. “What about you?”
Opening that box and test driving the toy, but I wasn’t going to push my luck. She could take it home, and we’d see how that went. Fingers crossed.
“You,” I said. “Sitting on my face.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked over my shoulder, then back at me. “Carter.” She gave me a look. “We’re in public.”
“Technically, we’re in a parking lot. And I didn’t mean here. Just, you know, later.”
I opened the door and shut it behind her before walking around to the driver’s side.
“What’s the over/under on the timeline for opening that box?” I put the truck into reverse and backed out.
“I don’t know,” Bailey said evasively. “Depends on lots of things.”
I stole a glance at her. “I give it four days, max.”
My real bet was two, but I was being conservative.
“Aren’t you optimistic?”
“Always,” I said. “Gonna tell me when you do?”
Her expression shifted, a mixture of self-conscious and mischievous. “You want me to?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Ideally, I wanted a play-by-play, pictures, video. A highly detailed review. But I’d settle for knowing. My imagination could do the rest.