AllFreeNovel
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“Maybe you’re the wonky one, not the cart.”
When he dropped his arm around her shoulders, she hip checked him out of her way, pushing the cart forward. “What’s next?”
“Nutmeg.”
“Aisle eight, this way.”
“Do you have this store memorized?”
She threw him a look over her shoulder. Of course she had it memorized. He watched her walk away, tussling with the wayward cart, and let his gaze linger on the back of her coat that draped down almost to her knees. He anticipated getting her alone and naked soon. Before his right hand fell off from overuse.
As she picked up a small jar from the top shelf, he noticed her top lifted, revealing the smallest amount of skin. An obscene sight.
Then in the frozen section, his gaze stuck on her breast, the faint outline of her nipples under the thin cotton of her cream sweater. Utter torture.
The last straw was when she bent down to pick up a loaf of bread she’d accidentally knocked over. When she placed it back and turned around, he curled his hand around her neck to kiss her. She sucked in a breath, and he cut off her exhale with his lips. Sliding his tongue into her mouth, he dug his fingers into her hair, messing up the neat bun, learning and loving how she liked it a tad rough when she sighed after he nipped at her lip.
A loud throat-clearing broke them apart. It was an older gentleman, frowning. “You’re blocking the rolls.”
“Oh, excuse us, sir. I’m so sorry,” Bronte said, grabbing the cart and nearly sprinting away.
Chris only chuckled, taking his time before finding her in a checkout line. He pressed his chest against her back, his lips next to her ear. “I couldn’t help myself. All the carbs were clouding my judgment.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, adorably scandalized, but his attention snagged on the magazine in her hands. Afraid of what she might see in there, he snatched it from her and let out a relieved whistle when it was only a lifestyle publication. He paged through the ads for perfumes and hair products, a fashion spread with what he thought was rather unattractive clothing, an article about equity at the workplace, until finally, he spied a quiz toward the back.
“Should you lay off the apologies?” he quoted and pointedly stared at Bronte. “How appropriate for you. Number one, a friend borrows a shirt, but when they return it, you notice it’s stretched out. You, A, forget about it for now but will bring it up if they borrow something else. B, apologize for giving them a shirt too small. Or, C, ban them from ever borrowing anything again.”
“My friends don’t borrow my clothes, but I guess A.”
Chris kept a mental score. “How many times a day do you involuntarily say I’m sorry? Once or twice, never, or too many times to count?” Without giving her time to answer, he said, “Too many times to count.”
She put on a perturbed face. “You aren’t with me all day. You don’t know.”
“Come on, I think I have a pretty good estimation of you, and I’d guess you’d say sorry if someone spilled their coffee on you.”
“No,” she said unconvincingly as she started placing the groceries on the belt.
“Three,” he said, back to the quiz. “Your boyfriend is supposed to come over to help you paint, but he’s missing in action. You, A, send him a text reminding him where he’s supposed to be. B, leave him a profanity-laced voice mail. Or, C, skip the blow job the next time you’re naked.”
“It doesn’t say that,” she half squeaked, half laughed, stretching over the cart to grab the magazine.
“No, it doesn’t,” he said, blocking her hand as he tucked it away in the racks. “But I do have a point. You don’t have to apologize for asking for what you want.” He pushed the cart forward when the cashier began to ring everything up, and Bronte bagged the groceries, seemingly deep in thought.
As they made their way out of the store, she tilted her head up to him. “Well, if you ever don’t show up to paint my house when you’re supposed to, you’ll be missing out on a lot more than…” She leaned toward him to whisper, “A blow job.”
He threw his arm around her shoulders. “So, you’re giving me the chance to paint your house?” When she nodded, he pressed his lips against her ear. “I’ll be there.”
