“Do you need me to take a look at the register, or was that a line?”
“Oh.” I walk back, nervous suddenly. Now that the past is mostly behind us, all that’s left are the butterflies he gives me. “If you could? I thought if anyone knew how to fix it, it would be you.”
He smiles as he lies down under the register to take a look. “You’re right; it’s wedged shut, but I know what to do. Pass me my tools?”
I step over him, basically straddling him while standing, and he takes them as I hand them down. I’m about to move again when the doorchimes.
It’s not Rhys this time.
“Hi there. Welcome.” And, oh God, is my voice loud, or is it just because I can hear my heart beating in my ears?
The woman enters alone; her salt-and-pepper bob held off her face by thick black sunglasses. Her expression is creased with disappointment. Something tells me that’s her resting face.
“Um, feel free to look around, or if there’s anything special you’re looking for, I’d be happy to help.”
Normally, I’d come out from behind the counter to help show a customer around—Here are our limited-edition candles, and,Here are our most popular scents, and,Oh, if you like dessert, then you definitely have to try these—but Benji’s slipped a hand around my ankle, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin there, and I can’t feel my knees anymore.
The woman doesn’t make eye contact, so she’s going to be one of those customers who doesn’t bother to look beyond the display she’s standing beside. We’re going to have to work out why so many rude people come here and how to stop it.
“I’m not interested in any of those fancy mixes, full of chemicals,” she says.
I’m really glad Skye isn’t here because there would be no stopping her from a full-throttle rant.
“So, just point me to the plain vanilla ones.”
Benji presses a kiss to the inside of my calf, then partshis lips. Heat ripples through my belly as his tongue brushes my skin.
Fuck. Fierce and immediate need pulses between my thighs. I hold back a whimper.
“Oh, um …” I stammer, and for once, I’m glad this is one of our worst customers because I think if she made eye contact with me right now, I’d erupt into flames. “The candles on the pink shelf are vanilla, and we also have?—”
The air leaves my lungs as Benji trails his fingers along the inside of my knee. Goose bumps break out over my body.
“Yes?” she asks, impatient.
What were we talking about again?
“Along the back shelf,” I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds. “We have some unscented candles as well.”
She turns her head toward them, her face scrunched up. “I asked for vanilla,” she sneers.
Honestly, if she doesn’t like it, she can leave. I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.
Benji continues to dance his fingers along the inside of my thigh, teasing. I want more, but he doesn’t seem destined for where I need him.
I’ll have to make it clear.
My pulse kicks up. Am I really about to do this? In public? But the woman hasn’t looked at me once, and the counter is up to my elbows, so there’s no way for anyone to see Benji unless they came behind here.
Only I know he’s there.
“Right, of course.”
I open my legs wider, inviting him—daring him—to really touch me. His hand stills before gripping my knee, like he’s bracing himself.
Then, so slowly that I lose all ability to breathe, he skates his fingertips up, up, up, along the seam of my underwear and the extra-sensitive patch along my inner thigh.
It takes all my attention not to moan.
