Chapter Five
Bella
Oh, double shit. The heat threatens my cheeks again and I turn away, tossing my items into a bag because clearly the clerk has forgotten her job description.
I hand her my visa and she lifts an eyebrow at me like I’m the most stupid person in existence.
“The sign says; ‘Cash only’. Can’t you read?”
She smirks and her eyes dart over to the guy for collusion in the joke at my expense. A flare of irritation rises in me and I look at him, ready to fire him a glare if he joins in with the bullying. But he’s not paying her any attention. In fact, if I’m not convinced I’m dreaming this, I’d swear his gaze was fixed on me with a kind of softness I haven’t seen in a very long time.
“I don’t have any -” I murmur.
He immediately reaches into his back pocket of those low slung loose jeans that are tight around his thick thighs and retrieves his billfold.
“Now you have no choice,” he tells me.
His eyes catch mine again, triumphant and not letting me shift back to the outraged girl, staring at both of us now.
I can feel her resentment boring into me from the side. That I’m holding the most gorgeous man on the planet eye-captive in the cashier aisle. Staring at each other like there’s no one else and we’re ready to start the re-population process.
“No, you can’t pay for everything,” I say, more of a squeal if I’m honest.
Just another distraction my body’s inflicting, to cover over my awkward embarrassment. “I’ll just put it back and come back tomorrow.”
“Don’t be so stubborn,” the hunk says with a grin. “That cream is an essential necessity for a fantasy summer apparently, you were in such a rush with it.”
“Honest, I’m no dairy addict. Well maybe for Rocky Road.”
“Good choice.”
“It really is my sister’s cream and I was dashing because I’m already late for dinner.”
“Your sister’s the one with a thing for whipped cream?” he asks his eyes sparking and setting off an array of electric shocks through me. “Not you?”
“Yes, I mean no. It’s for the after party, I mean the wedding breakfast. And it had to be the real stuff that some poor dogsbody, likely me, is going to have to whip by hand. Then we’re going to make huge piles in old glass bowls for guests to dip their strawberries into.”
“Strawberries are one good thing to use whip on,” he nods, very seriously.
Too serious. Trying to stifle that filthy grin and naughty twinkle.
This guy could combust an iceberg.
“Ahem,” an insistent cough from the woman behind him in the line that’s formed while we gaze on each other.
We’re still facing each other oblivious to the entire world. The slack-mouth cashier is staring at us in disbelief like she’s watching a shocker scene on a soap opera.
“Sorry,” I murmur to the line around him as he hands the girl a couple of notes.
“Do you want my number?” she asks him.
Her finger hovers over the phone glued to her palm after she gives him his change and clasps his fingertips. I want to slap her.
“No, I’m good thanks,” he shrugs and extricates his hand. I could kiss him.
“Whatevs,” she says with a tone of smacking-gum even though she isn’t chewing any.
We exit the store and my companion, still at my shoulder, takes the brown bag from my arm then abruptly stops as soon as the door closes. I notice how my cheeks and jaw are aching from how much I’m smiling. I also can’t fail to notice the fierce pulsating in my pussy.
“Damn, I forgot to pick up my beer,” he says. “I was so distracted by CreamGate.”
“Oh no,” I blurt out, sticking my free hands in my pockets to prevent myself from reaching out to grab him and prevent him heading back inside.
I’d have no excuse to follow him or even wait around for him to return. A wash of pleasure surges through my tummy knowing he was engrossed by our collision enough to forget something as vital as a brew. Now, what is there to say to restrain him from leaving? He obviously doesn’t like an upfront woman judging by the way he dismissed the cashier. It’s not like me to curb my independent spirit but I’m not ready to have him walk away.
Who knows when fate will put him in my path again?
“I ought to offer to buy you a beer,” I pipe up, “but I’m not sure anyone trusts my credit in this town.”
He grins again.
“I thought you had a dinner date.”
Damn.
“Not a date. Dinner plans. Had. Past tense,” I smile, relieved he didn't dismiss me like the store clerk.
This guy makes me all kinds of nervous.
“But I’ve good and missed it now. My mother will freak if I show up in the middle of the meal. I’ll have to hide out in my car until they finish.”
“That decides it,” he says. “We’ll hide together. Come on – the whipped cream can wait until after dessert.”
The way he says that puts all kinds of filthy ideas in my head and it crosses my mind to decline even though I don't want to. Because I’m not sure I can keep myself together around this guy. If we go to a bar, I have no idea what might happen. Anything is what. I can’t stop the thoughts flying across my mind. Where he forces me up against a wall in an alley and yanks my skirt up my thighs.
Would I slam down on those wide shoulders, or claw them to me as he ripped down my panties? I can almost feel his solid big cock sliding into my wetness and plunging into my pussy filling me up to the core. He’s a man I’d fuck without thinking twice. I wish now I’d done it the first time we met. Except I’m too much of a good girl. With this guy I’ll lose all sense of propriety, all sense of...
“Sure, let’s do it,” I say which is kind of redundant as he’s already taken my hand to lead me across the street.
He’s gripping that same spot, right below my wrist bone and every cell in my body yearns to flip into actually holding his hand like a real couple.
His face is alight with a huge grin that indicates he was concerned I was going to refuse. Although that’s surely just another of my fantasy dreams taking root.
I must be unconsciously tugging in resistance, because he says, “Don’t worry you’re quite safe. It’s not like you’re being kidnapped by a stranger.”
There. Does he recognize me after all?
And what the hell is he doing here because, now I think of it, I remember him saying he was just passing through. Heading out that very night in fact. Was that a lie to get rid of me? Perhaps he’s married.
Once we’re in the bar, he sets the bag on the stool beside me and waits until I hitch up onto mine. In case I need assistance for my clumsy ways, then slides smoothly onto his own seat.
“Man, I could eat an entire rack,” he moans.
“Did I ruin your dinner plans as well?” I ask.
“Yeah me and my solitary take out.”
“I don’t have ribs but I can offer you potato chips,” I say, with what I hope is a flirtatious small smile.
I guess it works because his eyes automatically go to my ribs and are distracted by my breasts that fill with intense pressure just from his gaze.
Discombobulated, I reach in the grocery sack, pull out the snacks and offer the open bag to him. He holds my gaze pinioned in his as he reaches in. Every cell in my body shivers as the sensation of that hand reaching inside my panties with those hard fingers runs through my thoughts.
I doubt there’s a move this guy could make without inspiring all sorts of filthy.