"I got some stuff on your seat," I squeaked out while looking out the windshield. His deep chuckle bounced around the inside of his truck.
"They're leather seats for a reason, Flower," he murmured with a saucy wink. The comment rubbed me the wrong way, but I tried to push it to the back of my mind.
It had been a couple hours since we'd arrived at Ken's place, but I still couldn't get what he'd said out of my head. They're leather seats for a reason. What does that even mean? Was he trying to be cheeky when implying that he bought a truck with leather seats for the sole purpose of easy clean up after s*x? I rubbed my forehead as a headache began to pound there from overthinking the entire situation.
I'm just being crazy, it's not what you think I kept telling myself, but it didn't change
