With his fingers caressing her even higher, he leaned forward and captured one of her taut nipples between his lips. He swirled his tongue over the velvet soft aureole and grazed his teeth across the pearled tip before doing the same with the other breast.
As his breathing quickened, escalated, so did the long smooth pumping of his hips, and the friction and pressure of his thumb against her clit. He felt her orgasm building, climbing, and he lifted his head from her breasts so he could watch the slow, dazzling way she came apart for him.
She intoxicated his senses, her beautiful face tensing, her delicate neck arching at his now uncontrollable thrusts until her body convulsed around him and her climax swept her away. Her lips parted, but before she could cry out, he covered her mouth with his own. He kissed her, as hard and deep as their bodies were fused, and groaned right along with her as they both crashed over the edge of a stunning, spine-tingling orgasm.
Long minutes later, her warm sigh drifted along the side of his neck while her hands caressed his back. “You’re so addicting,” she murmured huskily.
The emotion that swelled in his chest at that moment was raw and possessive, and incredibly real. The more time he spent with Bailee, the stronger and deeper it grew, crowding places in his heart that had been empty and waiting for a lifetime.
12
The sliding doors parted with a mechanical sigh, and the three of them walked into the grocery store like Fly had declared it a mission and not a food run.
Than blinked once, adjusting to the shift in light. Too bright. Too sharp. The sheer scale of it hit first, the towering shelves, the polished floors, the endless rows of choices stacked high like someone had taken abundance and stretched it past reason.
He had been in stores before. Walmart, the gas station market, the tribal co-op—places that knew the shape of his life. Everybody on the rez had. But not like this. Not this clean, this loud, this…full. At home, the aisles were narrow, familiar, and predictable. Here, everything gleamed like it had been built yesterday, humming with an energy that felt foreign against the quiet rhythm of his upbringing.
A sudden memory tightened his chest. His mother’s late-night grocery runs after work, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the same few options on the same tired shelves. Nothing changed. Not really.
Here, everything changed. Every aisle. Every second. Every choice.
Fly leaned over. “I know, mate. It’s a lot at first, but you get used to it.”
Than nodded, swallowing. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah, but I was blown away when I got here from Australia. My grandad owns a ranch…in Texas.”
“That’s a whole new country, there,” Shamrock muttered.
Fly grinned. “Cowboy hats, boots, howdy this and y’all that. It was interesting.”
“We’ll get you through this,” Shamrock said, throwing an arm around Than’s shoulders. “We’ve got your six. That’s SEAL-speak for ‘You won’t die in a grocery store. Not today.’”
Fly pushed the cart like it was a battering ram, his pace clipped and expression focused. “Okay,” he muttered, focused. “Logical plan. Simple objective.” His mouth tightened as he glanced at Shamrock. “High likelihood of screwups. It’s just food.”
Than watched him, amused. Fly couldn’t turn off his inner mission commander even for tomatoes.
Behind them, Shamrock yawned, stretching his arms overhead with the unearned grace of someone who hadn’t taken anything seriously since birth. “Define ‘screw up,’” he said, eyes already on the snack aisle like it was calling his name. “I’m thinking this cart could fit, what, ten bags of chips? Maybe twelve if we stack vertically.”
“You’re not stacking anything,” Fly said, deadpan, not even glancing back. “We’re getting what’s on the list. Nothing else.”
“Should I salute you, Lieutenant of the List?”
“You can kiss my ass. How about that?”
Than followed, snorting. Damn, he loved the way Fly just took everything in stride and gave as good as he got. How could you not love the guy?
Shamrock was a wild card, but solid, and his humor was off the charts. Hands in his hoodie pockets, scanning without making it obvious, he tried to play it cool instead of like a rez bumpkin. The people. The exits. The exits’ exits. Habits born from growing up between worlds, one rooted in land and silence, the other in survival.
They drew attention almost instantly.
Two women near the bakery counter went quiet mid-conversation, one of them nudging the other with her elbow as Fly passed. A clerk near the deli fumbled a price sticker. A trio of college-aged girls near the self-checkout zone tracked them with subtle but unmistakable interest.
Than didn’t respond. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t shift.
He just noticed.
Shamrock, however, noticed everything.
