CHAPTER SIX #2
“Wait! That’s too much.” I try to grab one of the pairs, but he blocks me with his body.
“You need clothes, butterfly.”
“I know, but you’ve already done so much for me,” I argue. “I can’t let you spend all this money.”
His arm snakes around my back, and he pulls me against his chest. “Are you mine?”
The question makes my heart skip a beat. I bite my lip and nod.
“Then get what you fuckin’ need, baby.”
I sigh, knowing I’m not going to win this battle. I scan the women’s section, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the choices. I’ve never had to shop for sweaters and winter clothes before.
Slowly, I start selecting items—a few more sweaters, some long-sleeve t-shirts, a couple of hoodies. Aaron follows behind me, occasionally adding things to the cart when he thinks I’m not being thorough enough.
“Ooh, they have thermal underwear,” I say, grabbing a package. “I probably need these, right?”
Aaron’s lips twitch. “Definitely. Though I prefer you without underwear.”
My cheeks heat. “Aaron!”
He laughs, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.
We move to the next aisle, which is full of bras and panties. I start to reach for the plain cotton ones, but Aaron stops me.
“No fucking way.”
“What’s wrong with these?” I hold up a package of simple cotton briefs.
He grimaces like I’m holding a dead rat. “You’re not wearing granny panties.”
Before I can argue, he’s loading the cart with lacy thongs and satin bikinis in every color imaginable. He adds matching bras, barely glancing at the sizes.
“How do you even know my size?” I ask, puzzled.
He smirks, his eyes dropping to my chest. “I’ve had my hands all over you, butterfly. Trust me, I know.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help smiling. The man is incorrigible.
He grabs a red satin teddy with white fur around the edges and holds it up. “This. You definitely need this.”
It’s very festive for the holidays. And sexy as hell.
“For Christmas?” I ask, eyeing it.
“For me,” he counters, dropping it into the cart. “Early Christmas present.”
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in days. It’s amazing how quickly this gruff, intimidating man has become the center of my world.
We continue through the store, adding pajamas, even though the crazy man insists I won’t be wearing them much. I also grab some socks and a warm winter coat with a fur-lined hood.
The coat alone costs more than I’d spend on clothes in a month back in Florida, but Aaron doesn’t even blink at the price.
“Shoes next,” he says, steering me toward that department.
I select a pair of knee-high boots and a pair of athletic shoes, trying to be practical. Aaron adds a pair of fuzzy slippers that are ridiculously soft.
“For around the house,” he says when I raise an eyebrow at him.
With our cart full to the brim with clothes, Aaron grabs another cart that someone abandoned in a nearby aisle.
“Now let’s get some groceries and get the fuck outta here before the snow starts coming down.”
I nod, following him toward the food section. The store is getting busier, with more people rushing in to stock up before the storm hits.
“What kind of food do you like?” Aaron asks as we navigate the produce section.
I shrug. “I’m not picky. I like most things.”
“You cook?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty good at it,” I admit. “I used to cook for the guys at the clubhouse sometimes.”
His eyes light up. “Good. I’ve been eating too much takeout lately.”
We fill the second cart with groceries—fresh vegetables, fruits, meats, pasta, rice, and all the staples. Aaron grabs several boxes of protein bars, explaining that he eats them when he’s on the road.
“Oh! Hot chocolate,” I exclaim, spotting the display. “Can we get some? Please?”
Aaron’s face softens. “Of course, butterfly.”
I grab a box of the fancy kind with mini marshmallows included, feeling oddly excited about the prospect of drinking hot chocolate during a snowstorm.
As we head toward the checkout, Aaron spots a display of winter accessories. “Wait,” he says, veering off in their direction. “You need a hat and gloves too.”
I select a simple black beanie and matching gloves, but Aaron reaches past me for a pink set with a fuzzy pom-pom on top of the hat.
“This one,” he says. “Matches your hair.”
My heart melts a little. Who knew this big, scary biker could be so damn sweet?
We reach the checkout, and I wince as the cashier starts scanning our items. The total keeps climbing higher and higher. Aaron doesn’t seem concerned, pulling out a thick wad of cash when it’s time to pay.
“Aaron,” I whisper, tugging on his sleeve. “It’s too much.”
He gives me a look that silences any further protest. “It’s fine.”
Once everything is paid for and loaded into bags, we push our carts out to the truck. The sky has darkened considerably since we went into the store, and the air feels funny.
“We’d better hurry,” Aaron says, lifting bags into the truck bed. “Storm’s coming in fast.”
I help as best I can, though he does most of the heavy lifting. Once everything is loaded, he returns the carts while I wait for him to come back.
Once again, he grabs my hips and hoists me up to my seat because, seriously, this truck is ridiculously high off the ground.
Aaron slides behind the wheel and starts the engine. “You hungry, butterfly?”
My stomach growls in response, making me laugh. “I could eat.”
“There’s a burger joint about a mile up the road. We can grab some food before heading home.”
Home.
The word settles warm and cozy in my chest. It feels right, even though I've only just gotten here. For so long, I've been running, hiding, pretending to be someone I'm not. I've never really felt like I belonged anywhere.
But here, in this freezing city, with this sexy biker who claimed me as his, I finally feel like I’m right where I’ve always belonged.