Irresistible Fantasies (A Steamy Collection)
His voice is low, rough around the edges, the kind that would rumble against my ear if he leaned in close enough.
I swallow. “Yeah. That’s me.”
His gaze flicks down, just for a second—but it’s enough. The way his dark eye lingers on the hem of my shirt, the way my nipples tighten under the thin cotton like he’s already touched them. My skin prickles, heat pooling between my thighs. Fuck. I’m not wearing a bra. I wasn’t expecting this.
He holds out a small, discreet box. The return address is familiar, Pink Petal Pleasures, the boutique I ordered from last night after two glasses of wine and a particularly frustrating video call with my vibrator collection.