“You could pull me close. Not enough to pin me. I need to be free to move.” I caressed his arms and chest.
His pecs flexed under my fingertips. “You like my muscles?”
I liked all of him. More than I should. More than I had a right to. Still, I unfastened a few shirt buttons in the hopes I could snag the heart underneath for myself.
“I thought we were just going to kiss,” he said. His fingers splayed into my back pockets and cupped my ass.
My eyelashes fluttered for one fabulous second. This was no bargain-bin grope session. I gripped his shirt and rubbed my breasts against him. “There’s more to kissing than just lips.”
“Hell yeah there is,” he growled.
I twisted in for a kiss. One brush of his lips swept all my common sense away. It was supposed to be a lingering, gentle seduction, but the second he opened his mouth to mine, I slid my tongue across his. He tasted nothing like those stupid tuna sandwiches. He was salt, heat, and sunshine. Safe cotton and leather boots. I cupped his jaw and slipped my other hand farther under his uniform, learning the curves of his sturdy body.
He squeezed my ass, steadily pressing me closer to the support beams without ramming me into them. Each kiss turned my bones to melted steel.
Fuck Fancee’s code of conduct. I needed heat.
I’d barely pried his uniform shirt from his shoulders before he lifted me up and set me on the edge of a lower shelf.
“Ah, Zack.” I clung to him.
What if I was too heavy for all this?
“I’ve got you,” he said.
I knew he did.
A steady tingle worked its way into my bones as he touched his forehead to mine. It was a pause. A check-in. I reveled in his hot breath and sturdy arms. This was real. This was solid. A man who’d be there for me in thick and thin. It couldn’t all be fake, could it? We were the only ones here.
I kissed Zack with everything I had, more fierce than any catwalk session. I dug my nails into his shoulders and hooked my ankles around his legs. I wanted him to wear me like a badge of honor, fuck me until we crushed the boxes beneath us. It didn’t matter if we were wearing these stupid uniforms or bare-ass naked. I wanted him. We clung to each other so tightly our seams imprinted on my simmering flesh. I scratched at his shirt and slipped underneath it once more.
He shivered, and his muscles tightened under my nails. “Fuck, Nic,” he panted.
“I told you, it’s not just the lips.” I grinned and rocked my hips, accidentally nudging a boner through his thick pants.
This was perfect.
Zack, the Quarterback, had a very real hard-on for this very ‘fake’ relationship.
Ding!
I clutched the man between my legs. “Shit. The bell.”
He tensed and helped me down from the shelf. “You go ahead. I’ll restock the discards.”
“You don’t have to do that.” It was my idea to mess around in the racks. My knees wobbled the second my feet hit the ground. Damn, I could barely stand.
He steadied my waist and held my gaze. “I got this.”
Okay, he had it. Me. The discard pile. Swollen lips and rumpled clothes…not to mention a hefty bulge.
Ding.
“Coming,” I croaked, and bolted for the shoe window. The door frame caught my toe, and nearly sent me flying like in those catwalk-fail videos. I hopped a few steps, shot my arms out to catch myself on the desk, then straightened like nothing happened. “Hi, what can I get for you today?”
My pulse blared in my ears louder than our store speakers, so I barely processed what the customer was saying. At least I caught their size.
I removed the shoe from the counter and slipped into the back to find the proper pair.
