Page 48 of Because of Her

“Pink, if you have them.”

I do, so I stroll to a far table to grab the flowers.

“How many?” Despite my need to know more, I hold back my questions. Restricting myself to only the essential questions I need to get the bouquet complete means I’m less likely to burst into tears.

It shouldn’t feel this way, him buying flowers for a woman that isn’t me. After all, I’m the one who ran out after our night together. The weirdness between us is all on me.

“A dozen?” His answer is a question. There’s a hesitation in his voice.

After grabbing the flowers, I collect some greenery and wax flowers to fill out the bouquet. When I get back to the bench I lay everything out and get to work.

I focus on my work, trimming and assembling the flowers without making the empty small talk I would with anyother customer. Callum wanders the store, admiring the produce, sneaking glances over to where I’m trying to focus.

“Stop watching me,” I groan.

Callum tucks his hands under his armpits, turning to face me. “Stop watching me.”

I huff, returning to my work, determined not to look up again.

When the bouquet is finally finished, I go to stand tall but find I can’t. Callum is hovering over me. His lips linger on my neck, but there is a gap between the rest of our bodies.

I suck in air, debating between squirming away, or pushing myself into him. His exhale is hot on my neck, spreading goosebumps down my back.

“Are you jealous, Rogue?” he whispers into my ear.

I freeze, unaware I had been so obvious.

He laughs, stepping back from me.

“They are for my sister. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

Relief washes over me. My shoulders drop from beside my ears and my fists unclench.

There’s a cheekiness to his expression, and I want to claim it as my own. When he catches me staring, he steps into me. I look up to see his face, and he gazes down at me with a twinkle in his eye.

“I think I’ll have to buy flowers more often,” he chuckles. “I like seeing you like this.”

I scoff, placing my hands on his chest to push him away. He doesn’t even flinch at the touch. Grabbing my hands, he holds them tight as he leans down and plants a kiss on my forehead. My toes tingle as I relax into his kiss. I hold back a moan when he pulls away, but before I can protest, one of his hands is under my chin, tilting my head up towards his.

Our mouths press together in what feels like a loving embrace. But it’s too intimate, and there is still somuch left unsaid between us. Still so much uncertainty, and too much baggage.

Hesitation has me falling back to flat feet, but Callum’s mouth follows mine. He walks me back until I’m leaning against the bench, and I give in to desire. I boost myself onto the counter, spreading my knees so he can stand between them.

Callum kisses me like his life depends on it. He is hungry and consuming, but kind and gentle. His large hands roam my back, squeeze my hips, tug my hair. I’m lost in the moment and all my concerns and worries melt away under the fire that always burns when we are together.

I kiss him back, sucking at his lips and pulling his body closer. He brings a hand between us, groping at my breast. He pinches my nipple through my clothes, sending a zap of electricity through my veins.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull at his hair. He presses himself into me and I can feel just how turned on he is. His hard length presses against the zipper of my tight pants and into my core. The friction through my jeans is tantalising yet infuriating. I want more.

Leaning back on my hands, I push against him. My hand catches the ribbon of the bouquet I made, and I’m thrown out of my feelings and back into my head. We are in my shop. My open shop with full front windows. Anyone could have seen. Anyone could have walked in.

But I was so lost in the moment I forgot where we are. Or didn’t realise. Or didn’t care.

I push Callum back and clamber down from the bench. He runs a hand through his hair as I straighten my top.

“Sorry, I—” He breathes heavily, but so do I. My heart is racing, and his cock is still strained under his pants.

Seeing me staring at it, he adjusts himself into a position that looks marginally more comfortable.

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