Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
PAIGE
Gripping the edge of the drawer under the register, I pull as hard as I can, but it’s just as stuck as it’s been all morning. I don’t know why it happens, but inevitably, every summer, it does this.
“Come on! You’re not allowed to break.” I squat down, trying to make out what is keeping it in place.
I can’t even ask for Skye’s help because she’s at the post office with a week’s worth of orders. Her crush, Bianca, is working, so I know it’ll be an hour before she’s back, if not more.
“The council’s heard your complaints, and we understand the issue, but we’ve decided. No breaking.”
“A wise decision.”
I start, clutching my heart as I turn to face Benji, who is wearing a smile I want to soak in.
“Morning, beautiful.”
I let go of the drawer and step back, relieved. “Thank you for this,” I say, spotting the tools he brought with him. “At this point, I don’t even care if you have to break it open. We can’t sell anything while the POS reader is stuck in there.”
He walks around the counter until he is caging me in.
He left his flannel at the shop, leaving him in blue jeans and a pale green T-shirt that makes his eyes sing.
Today must be a front-of-shop day. With his cap swung backwards, I can see his hair, dark and damp.
He’s freshly showered, and all I want to do is bury my nose into his chest and breathe in.
“I like the skirt,” he says, reaching down and playing with the edge of the hem.
Goose bumps flood my thighs. All the air leaves my lungs.
“It’s hot.”
“Yes.” His eyes dip down to my legs for a long time, then slowly creep up. “It is.”
“What are you doing?”
He steps closer, gripping my waist. “Saying hello.”
“Someone could walk in.”
The shop is open, even though I haven’t had a customer for twenty or so minutes.
He kisses my cheek. “Let them.” Kisses my jaw. “God, you always smell so good.”
“It’s a …”
Benji skims his fingers along the hem of my shirt, teasing over my stomach, which flutters under his touch.
“A new body wash. Unscented.”
“I’m taking you to dinner tonight.”
Is he? Okay.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
You could pick me up right now.
His smile skims my cheek. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I press my hands into his hard chest. Apparently, Isaac shoved him into the gym last year in an attempt to kick him out of his “sadness spiral”—Benji’s words—and, wow, did it work.
It’s added about ten pounds of muscle to his chest and arms, and it makes it even harder to concentrate when Benji slides his hands down my sides, the way he’s doing now.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Finally, he kisses me.
The door chimes.
“Oops, sorry. Don’t mind me.”
I jolt back. “Rhys! Hi.”
“Was just checking if you wanted to get a sneaky break for lunch, but I can see you’re occupied.”
Benji hasn’t even moved away from me and looks like he’s enjoying this.
“He came over to fix the register,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.
“Did he?” Rhys teases.
I nod. “It’s jammed up. I can’t get the drawer to open. I think it’s that thing you said.” I wave my hand around. “Inflation.”
“Heat expansion, probably,” Benji corrects, amusement thick in his voice.
Rhys smiles from the doorway.
My face burns. “Um, yes, that. I think the wood has swollen.”
“It has a habit of doing that,” Benji says, low.
I want to hide under the damn counter and jump him, all at the same time.
Rhys breaks, snickering, and I walk over to push him out the door.
“Oh, am I leaving? Okay. Bye, Benji,” he calls out as he goes. “Have fun dealing with your swollen wood.”
“Get out,” I say with one last shove. “I’ll text you later.”
When we’re alone again, I’m struck again by how fucking handsome Benji is. How did I get so lucky?
“Um …”
“Do you need me to take a look at the register, or was that a line?”
“Oh.” I walk back, nervous suddenly. Now that the past is mostly behind us, all that’s left are the butterflies he gives me. “If you could? I thought if anyone knew how to fix it, it would be you.”
He smiles as he lies down under the register to take a look. “You’re right; it’s wedged shut, but I know what to do. Pass me my tools?”
I step over him, basically straddling him while standing, and he takes them as I hand them down. I’m about to move again when the door chimes.
It’s not Rhys this time.
“Hi there. Welcome.” And, oh God, is my voice loud, or is it just because I can hear my heart beating in my ears?
The woman enters alone; her salt-and-pepper bob held off her face by thick black sunglasses. Her expression is creased with disappointment. Something tells me that’s her resting face.
“Um, feel free to look around, or if there’s anything special you’re looking for, I’d be happy to help.”
Normally, I’d come out from behind the counter to help show a customer around—Here are our limited-edition candles, and, Here are our most popular scents, and, Oh, if you like dessert, then you definitely have to try these—but Benji’s slipped a hand around my ankle, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin there, and I can’t feel my knees anymore.
The woman doesn’t make eye contact, so she’s going to be one of those customers who doesn’t bother to look beyond the display she’s standing beside. We’re going to have to work out why so many rude people come here and how to stop it.
“I’m not interested in any of those fancy mixes, full of chemicals,” she says.
I’m really glad Skye isn’t here because there would be no stopping her from a full-throttle rant.
“So, just point me to the plain vanilla ones.”
Benji presses a kiss to the inside of my calf, then parts his lips. Heat ripples through my belly as his tongue brushes my skin.
Fuck. Fierce and immediate need pulses between my thighs. I hold back a whimper.
“Oh, um …” I stammer, and for once, I’m glad this is one of our worst customers because I think if she made eye contact with me right now, I’d erupt into flames. “The candles on the pink shelf are vanilla, and we also have—”
The air leaves my lungs as Benji trails his fingers along the inside of my knee. Goose bumps break out over my body.
“Yes?” she asks, impatient.
What were we talking about again?
“Along the back shelf,” I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds. “We have some unscented candles as well.”
She turns her head toward them, her face scrunched up. “I asked for vanilla,” she sneers.
Honestly, if she doesn’t like it, she can leave. I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.
Benji continues to dance his fingers along the inside of my thigh, teasing. I want more, but he doesn’t seem destined for where I need him.
I’ll have to make it clear.
My pulse kicks up. Am I really about to do this? In public? But the woman hasn’t looked at me once, and the counter is up to my elbows, so there’s no way for anyone to see Benji unless they came behind here.
Only I know he’s there.
“Right, of course.”
I open my legs wider, inviting him—daring him—to really touch me. His hand stills before gripping my knee, like he’s bracing himself.
Then, so slowly that I lose all ability to breathe, he skates his fingertips up, up, up, along the seam of my underwear and the extra-sensitive patch along my inner thigh.
It takes all my attention not to moan.
After a shaky inhale, I manage. “You can find vanilla on the pink shelf.” Never mind that I already told her that or that a very sexy man is currently teasing me under the counter while a complete stranger stands a few feet away.
But the woman doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and thank God because I can hardly concentrate on anything other the heat of Benji’s hand. He explores over my underwear, avoiding my clit. It’s driving me mad with anticipation.
I exhale shakily and slowly press into his touch.
“How much?” she demands.
And, wow, she’s really just going to stand here and treat me like a dog, huh?
Meanwhile, I’m at Benji’s mercy, unable to plead for more, not with someone here.
“Oh, uh …” Think. Candles. Vanilla. Right. “Those are twenty-eight each.”
My senses are pulled taut, buzzing with the need for more, begging to come.
My pussy is pulsing with it.
And just when I think I can’t take any more, he slides his fingers under the cotton and finally, blissfully touches me.
I gasp, then quickly cough to cover it, falling to my elbows on the counter as my bones melt with pleasure.
Fuck, it’s good.
The woman—and, fuck, she’s still here—clicks her tongue, typing rapid-fire into her phone. I could vanish into thin air right now, and I bet she wouldn’t even notice.
“That’s ridiculous. I can get five candles for that price.”
Then leave, I want to scream.
Benji moves frustratingly slowly, dragging out every swipe and curl of his fingers, moving from my clit to my pussy as he pleases and taking his time doing it. He spreads my wetness as he goes, and, God, I must be dripping down his fingers by now; I’m so pent up.
Hidden behind the counter, my hips begin to rock forward, every part of me aching for more.
“Sorry,” I squeak.
The thrill of being caught, being seen, only makes it hotter. Anyone walking by can look in, might see my blush, and know what he’s doing to me. I squeeze around his fingers and just make out his exhale under the tone of the woman’s voice.
I need to get her out of here. I need to come.
“I can see you’re no help,” she says, slamming the candle down and—at last!—leaving.
Immediately, I run to the door and lock it behind her, my pulse tattooing Benji’s name against my throat.
Fuck.
“I think you should go,” I pant against the door.
“I think you should let me finish.”
He hasn’t moved from the floor, and when I round the counter, I’m almost undone. He’s hard. The heel of his hand is pressed against where he’s tenting his jeans, and I don’t know if he’s trying to hold it off or release some of the pressure. Maybe both.
I know how he feels.
“Come back here, Paige.”
He beckons me with his fingers, and I can’t help it; I need this. I don’t even care that it’s the middle of the day. People are walking past. They can’t see him, but they can see me. So, why does that make me want to do it more?
I plant my feet back on either side of him.
“Arms on the counter,” he commands. “Just like before. I’m going to make you come like this, okay?”
I’m trembling. “Okay.”
He pulls my underwear down and then off and guides my legs open again.
My head falls forward on a moan, and I rest my head on my hands. If anyone looked in, it might seem like I’m having a hard day. He’s not even touching me, but standing over him like this, bare and open, is making my heart race.
Anyone who looks in has no idea that I’m exploding with pleasure right now.
“Benji,” I whine, “please.”
“Please what?”
He kisses my ankle, and I tremble as he licks a path along the sensitive skin.
“Please,” I whisper, still aware of the people passing by. “Make me come.”
“My pleasure,” he says, sliding two fingers inside me.
I grip the counter tight, holding on for dear life as he curls and thrusts, hitting the perfect spot to make my knees buckle over and over.
He still remembers how I like him to fuck me.
Still knows exactly how to touch me to melt every thought in my brain until I can’t think about anything except, More and, Benji, and, Yes.
I can’t speak, reduced only to whimpers and moans while Benji coaxes me closer and closer to the edge.
“Shh, you don’t want anyone to hear you,” he says.
While I know no one can from outside, the thought of it—of anyone being able to see how desperate I am right now—lights me up inside.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he continues. “How you made yourself come in front of me. Best fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Are you giving them a show right now, baby? Or are you keeping it all for me?”
No one makes me feel like this, desired and desperate. I don’t want them to. I only want him.
“Because you’re mine,” he says, and it’s the possession in his voice that pushes me over the edge.
Pleasure crashes over all at once, and I break apart on his fingers, my legs shaking.
Benji keeps going until it’s almost too much, and he slowly pulls out, placing gentle kisses along my calf.
“Okay?” he asks when my breathing is back under control.
I’m as wobbly as a newborn foal.
“Think so,” I rasp.
Benji slides out from under the counter and stands. His jeans don’t hide anything.
“What about you?”
He ducks down, kissing me, and I lose myself in his lips and tongue for a while.
“This is all about you,” he says. “Besides, I have a commission getting picked up soon.”
“Oh.”
He kisses me again. “Dinner tonight,” he reminds me.
I’m floating on air, and I can only nod.