30. Kisses in Stock
30
Kisses in Stock
At work, I tried to ignore my phone for a while, so I lost myself in the role of a shop girl. Our storewide playlist had finally shifted from holiday cheer to upbeat sex appeal. Stylin’ Myles crooned about worshiping every inch of his lover, and I swayed my way through the warehouse aisles to put away discarded shoes. In the back, there were no cameras, no Andre, and no real audience. I could dance like no one was watching.
I whisper-sang, bobbing to the beat as I scanned this shelf. Size 9, 9.5, 10… I slid the 10.5 boots into place on my tip-toes.
“Hey, nice moves,” Zack barked.
I spun and pressed my hand over my heart so it didn’t try to jump out of my chest. “What?”
My fake boyfriend smiled and braced his arm against a shelf. His muscles stretched out his uniform shirt. “You really like that Myles guy, huh?”
“Yes.” Unlike some people, he had no problem expressing affection. Well, in his songs, anyway. I pried another shoebox into its space.
“You okay?” Zack asked.
“Yep.” I’d be fine as long as I didn’t look at him.
He strode closer, and my heart tap-danced across my ribcage. Seriously, why did I like the smell of his sweat mixed with old spice?
“I’m sorry if I went too far in the driveway,” he said softly.
Oh shit. I didn’t want him to regret our kiss because I was acting weird afterwards. I had to be cool. Fake Girlfriend Nic shouldn’t be fazed by stuff like this.
I forced a laugh. “I’m not upset about that. I mean, it was more of a tackle than a kiss.”
“What? No it wasn’t.”
I shrugged, my smile a stitch more sincere. “You basically lunged at me. I mean, I get it. A former quarterback knows one way to score, so he goes for it.”
“Okay, how would you have done it?” he challenged, his neck bright red. “Gentle? Like a feather across your lips?”
“Maybe.” But not really. I glanced down the aisle. My pulse pounded against the cardboard boxes in my arms. “I could show you.”
“Here?” He tugged his ear and looked around. “On the clock?”
I shrugged. “Andre won’t notice unless someone hits the bell.”
He eased the boxes from my grip and grazed my fingertips with his calloused hands. “Let’s pray it’s a slow day, then.”
Damn. Were we really going to do this?
I wiped my palms on my jeans and breathed evenly. This was fine. It was fake. Practice, in fact. A favor for his next (real) girlfriend.
Zack set the boxes aside and flexed his neck. “How do you want me?” he asked.
Wrapped between my legs. Ramming me from behind with a firm grip on my hips. Ah, that was skipping a few steps and way inappropriate. First, we had to kiss.
I guided his hands to the small of my back. “I liked it when you held my waist. You could also grip my hips.”
“Okay.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his dark gaze fixed on my face.
“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.
Upstairs, Andre leaned so far back his chair squeaked. “Nicole, you got that?”
“Yep.”
“That was two rings,” he chided.
“Sorry, I had my hands full.” Of Zack’s abs.
I wanted to rub my face all over my fake boyfriend. Was that bad? It’d probably ruin my makeup, or whatever was left of it. I ran my nail across the outline of my lips, then hurried to check on him.
Cardboard clapped as Zack shoved shoes into place. Hopefully, he didn't bend the boxes. Andre would have a fit.
Zack strode over. “I didn’t know where to put this one, but the rest are good.”
“Okay, thanks.” I took the last box from him and hesitated. Should I kiss him again? Was that a thing we did now or was it only practice?
He rubbed his ear and backed up. “Catch you on break?”
“Sure.” I didn’t need another kiss. I was busy with work, same as him.
He trotted to the main warehouse, and the stockroom got weirdly dimmer without his presence.
One of the guys there called out to him. “Where’ve you been?”
“Getting some air. It’s hot back here," he said.
“I bet it is.” Cackles echoed through the warehouse.
I shook my head and strode away to resume my role as shopgirl. Labels made sense on shoes, not relationships. I really had to get a grip and not just on Zack’s ass.