First

‘Cat, seriously, which store are you at? I’m leaving right now to get you.’

I give him directions and hang up. A slick, rubberised mask is hanging from a peg. But I don’t see any eye holes. Or mouth holes. Or nose holes? Holy shit, what kind of aisle is this?

I escape by turning the corner, only to find myself face to face with the prominent sign Anal Play. I grimace and swerve to a different aisle and go slack jawed. I am surrounded, quite literally, by what must be hundreds of penises. Or, strange plastic things shaped vaguely like penises.

My brilliant plan of being strong and mature and brave has completely fallen apart. So astounded I don’t think I’ll recover, I start to sit in the aisle. At this point I notice it’s carpet, wrinkle my nose, and clear myself a tiny space on the bottom shelf.

Dally calls me about ten minutes later. ‘I’m here, brown eyes. I’m guessing you decided to play plucky explorer and wandered past the lingerie.’

‘I’m trapped.’

The amusement in his voice doesn’t help. ‘Trapped how?’

I glance at the plastic-encased penis nearest my head. ‘The realistic G-Spotter is six inches of paradise and has the manly heft of the real thing. Do you have any idea how long six inches really is, Dally? It’s almost the same length as a water bottle. How does that even fit? I mean, there are some here that are even longer.’

I squint at a huge package further down the aisle. ‘Twelve inches? You’ve got to be kidding me!’

I unfold myself from my shelf and creep closer to examine it. ‘It’s based on a real person? Holy nightstick, that’s impossible. Dally, you aren’t tha

t big, right? I think you might kill me if you are—’

‘Oh, babe.’

Still crouching, I turn and peer up in the direction of that low drawl. Dally’s standing at the end of the aisle, muscular, tatted arms crossed over his chest, a ridiculously wide grin on his face. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more foolish than at this moment.

Then he says with a snigger, ‘Did you find the precious?’

Oh yes, it’s possible.

He strides over to me, extending his hand. I take it and let him pull me up to a standing position. He doesn’t let me go immediately, taking a second to look me over.

‘Hi,’ I smile, but the seriousness doesn’t leave his eyes.

I know he’s still stuck on that concern about the car accident, flashing back to the last accident that rocked my family. I reach down and pick up my shopping basket with my free hand, resting it in the crook of my elbow. ‘Want to help me find some fun things?’

That gets him to relax. ‘What could you possibly need?’

I hold up a finger and dig around in my purse for the list I’ve compiled. I pull it out and hand it to him. ‘These were the things that different magazines and websites suggested.’

As Dally’s reading, his eyebrows are rising higher and higher. I’m about to cite my sources when, to my dismay, he crumples the list in one hand. My mouth falls open and I stare at him. He shakes his head. ‘No.’

I take a breath, but he shakes his head again. ‘Just … no.’

He tugs on my hand and leads me from the aisle.

‘But they all said that those—’

‘You don’t need any of that shit.’

Okay, I might get a little mulish. He glances over his shoulder when I dig my feet in and stop. ‘Dally, everything I read told me—’

‘Brown eyes, as a real man who has had lots of sex, let me tell you a few simple facts. One, good sex is good sex, regardless of the accessories.’ He steps closer. ‘Two, a real gentleman will make sure he’s prepared for the evening. Which means he’s considered his pleasure and yours.’

He’s nearly pressed against me, smelling of California sunshine and GoJo citrus soap and some kind of spice that’s him and him alone. His lips curve up as he finishes, ‘And three, you’re having sex with me. I promise the only thing I care about is seeing you. Naked. Under me.’

There’s no moisture left in my mouth; it’s all travelled south.

He tugs again at my hand and I follow him complacently. We stop at a simple wall display. ‘This is all we need,’ he assures me. ‘Lube.’