Joanne leaned forward, still sitting on the bed, and shoved at the drawer. JD held it open.
"You have wild preferences, Ms. Smith." His voice was amused, tinged with something almost mocking. He cocked his head, eyeing the scandalous item inside. "What is that… about eight inches? And the girth… Is that even realistic?"
He smirked, pretending to reach toward the big, long, pink pleasure thingy.
Joanne rolled her eyes, her face burning. His scent was too close—too distracting. She slapped his hand away, but he didn't budge.
"It's pretty realistic," she muttered. "It might be rare, but some men have it this… big…"
Her stomach clenched. Liam did.
The thought sent another wave of heat to her face—not the kind she welcomed. Humiliation prickled under her skin, creeping up her neck. Between the fever and sheer mortification, she felt like she might pass out. But before that, she had to close the damn drawer.
She pushed harder, but JD still held firm, unmoved.
