Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LINCOLN
Taking my wife to the grocery store while I was starved for her pussy and recalling, in great detail, exactly how she’d tasted probably wasn’t the best idea. Not when everything I looked at suddenly became a pairing to the most intoxicating flavor I’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
Willa wore old jeans that were nearly as soft as her tits and my flannel, the sleeves rolled to the elbows.
As if that pairing weren’t making me hard enough, her hair was pulled up in this lazy, messy knot that made me want to drag it all down.
Or grip it while she sucked me off. Or while I fucked her from behind.
Or, hell, just while I kissed the ever-loving shit out of her.
The problem I was facing wasn’t just that I wanted her with a single-minded intensity. It was that I craved her like a goddamn addiction. And every look, every reluctant laugh, every brush of her fingers against me only made it worse.
And to top it all off? She didn’t even realize what she was doing to me.
I was strolling behind her in aisle three, mentally mapping all the places I wanted to put my mouth on her, when the universe smacked me in the face with an offensive-as-fuck display.
“Are you kidding me?”
“What?” Willa stopped, glancing back at me before taking in our surroundings. No doubt wondering why I was losing my shit in the PB&J aisle.
“This is goddamn criminal,” I said, nodding toward a shelf of overpriced hipster jams that looked like someone had overstock from Etsy they needed to get rid of. “Fifteen bucks for that pathetic little jar.”
She huffed out a laugh. “You sold mine for twenty-five.”
“Yeah, but yours taste delicious. These probably taste like disappointment and regret.”
Willa snorted, grabbing a jar of peanut butter and tossing it into the cart. “You have to say that. Pretty sure it’s in the unofficial rule book of being married.”
“I say it because it’s true, wife.” I grabbed one of the offensive jars of jam and scanned the back, gasping at what I found. “This isn’t even real small batch! This is made by another fucking multibillion-dollar company! Forget disappointment and regret—this probably tastes like greed and lies.”
“Okay, calm down.” Willa grabbed the jar from me, replaced it on the shelf, and dragged me along next to her. “Don’t start a fight with that company. We can’t afford that kind of lawsuit.”
“We could if you’d listen to me,” I said, wrapping an arm around her and letting my fingertips brush the generous curve of her ass. “We could have you stocked in stores like this. Shit, I bet I could have it done in a month.”
Huffing out a breath, she rolled her eyes and strode out of the aisle. “You’re being ridiculous.”
She tried to sound dismissive, but I didn’t miss the way her lips twitched or her eyes went soft as she looked at me. She liked that I believed in her, even if she couldn’t say it out loud. And I was all too happy to be cocky as fuck for her.
Hell, for her? I’d be anything she needed me to be.
“I’m just saying,” I said, strolling up behind her, lowering my voice as I leaned in close. “If you let me handle this, you’d be outselling every jar in that aisle by fall.”
She gave me a look over her shoulder. “In what world do I let you handle anything?”
My gaze dropped down her body, a slow caress as I pictured her spread out in the chair, my mouth on her cunt. And then her on her knees, staring up at me like I was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
“I’ve been handling some things pretty damn well, I think,” I said, my voice a low rasp that didn’t allow for any misinterpretation.
“Control yourself, jackass,” she said, though my nickname sounded a hell of a lot more affectionate than it used to. And there was no mistaking the rosy tint to her cheeks.
“I’ve got good ideas besides how to make you come,” I whispered in her ear then expertly dodged the smack she aimed at my stomach. With a laugh, I said, “Honey sticks? Me. Laurel on the farm? Also me. Pricing your jam at triple your usual cost and still selling out? All me.”
“Settle down, Linc. We’re not going to be able to fit all these groceries in the house if your head keeps growing.”
A slow grin spread across my mouth. “You are an expert at that, aren’t you, wife?”
“Would you stop?” she hissed, glancing back at me as she strode into the produce aisle. “Go grab me a bottle of ginger peach iced tea and quit acting like a middle school boy.”
I flashed her a grin and a wink, but I did as she asked, strolling to the end cap a few aisles down and grabbing three teas since they were her favorite. When I made it back into the produce aisle, I spotted her right away in front of the eggplants.
And beside her? Jeff I thought about asking him to build me a tub Morris. Enemy Number One.
He was gesturing to a particularly large specimen like he was about to give a TED Talk on phallic-shaped produce.
My jaw clenched. My eye twitched.
This motherfucker.
Willa was laughing—laughing—and I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I didn’t need to. There was one reason and one reason only a man stood that close while making hand gestures at eggplants. He sure as fuck wasn’t talking about dinner.
Before my brain could talk me out of it, I stalked over and dropped the bottles of tea into the cart.
Then I stepped up behind Willa and slid my hand over her stomach, tugging her gently but firmly back into me.
She stiffened for half a second, but then she relaxed against me like it was exactly where she belonged.
“Believe me,” I said, voice deceptively calm as I met Jeff’s eyes. “She knows all about good eggplants. I make sure of it.”
Willa sputtered and glanced back at me with a what the fuck look, and Jeff just froze, eyes wide, his entire face flaming pink.
“Oh, um, definitely,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I was just telling Willa the selection’s really good this year…”
“Whatever you say.” I sent him a grin that was less invitation and more threat. “Let us know if you need a recipe.”
He gave us a tight-lipped smile before slinking off with his giant eggplant in his basket.
What a tool.
Willa turned slowly, her eyes narrowed. “Did you seriously just growl at someone over an eggplant?”
“It wasn’t over an eggplant, Willa. He was talking about his dick.”
She scoffed. “Only you would think that.”
“Because I’m right. I’m a guy, hellcat. Believe me, I know when another dude is trying to get his eggplant handled.”
“You are absolutely ridiculous.” With a glare, she stalked off, her ass jiggling in the most tantalizing way and making me want to drop to my knees right here and bite it.
Probably not what she was going for, but I took what I was dealt. And I was dealt a feisty wife with a killer ass and tits for days. She was dealt a husband who was deceptively sweet but actually possessive as hell when it came to her.
And I refused to apologize for it.