Page 8 of Love Harvested on Thanksgiving
Finley.
Tall, broad, and brooding. Always brooding. I paste on a bright smile anyway.
“Hi, Finley.”
His expression doesn’t change. Not even a polite nod. Just that same scowl he always wears.
Still, I keep smiling. I refuse to let his foul mood bother me. He walks up to the register after placing his items on the belt.
He finally speaks, his voice low and rough. “Why are you always so damn happy?”
The question takes me off guard, but I laugh softly. “Why are you always sogrumpy?”
His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I’m not grumpy. Maybe, I just don’t particularly likeyou.”
The words hit like a slap. My smile falters, but I hold my chin up. I steady my voice, refusing to let him see the sting in his words.
“Has it ever occurred toyou,”I say slowly, tilting my head, “that maybe youdolike me… and that pisses you off?”
The register continues to beep, and my hands continue to work, but I don’t break eye contact. My smile edges back, softer this time, daring him.
To my surprise, he moves closer. The distance between us vanishes in a blink, and then he’s stepping behind the register.
My breath stills.
He looms over me, tall and broad, his chest so close it nearly brushes against my cheek.
Then his hand comes up, rough fingers firm on my chin. He tilts my face up with a pressure I can’t ignore, forcing my eyes to land on his. His grip remains, his stare unrelenting.
“If that were true,” he growls through clenched teeth, “I’d fuck that smile right off your face. Right here, right now.”
My mouth drops open, stunned. His blue eyes burn down into me, fierce. Oh, he’s serious. “I would never in a million years let that happen,” I grit.
His lips twitch into a dark smirk. Before I can even process what’s happening, his large hands are at my waist. He effortlessly lifts me and sets me on the counter, the cold edge digging into the back of my thighs.
He leans in closer, eyes locked on mine, his presence overwhelming. “The way your legs are trembling says otherwise.”
Heat floods my face, and my breathing comes in short bursts. “Have you ever thought for just a moment, they tremble because I’mafraidof you?”
His hands grip my knees, pulling my legs apart as he steps between them “Good,” he growls, “you should be.”
With our faces now inches apart, the heat of him sends a shiver down my spine.
And then, his lips are on mine.
It’s firm, rough and deep. So unexpected and consuming. My hands clench at the edge of the counter for balance as I kiss him back.
When he finally pulls back, his teeth catch my bottom lip, a tug that sends a tremor through me.
I stare at him, lips tingling, chest heaving. My brain screams that this is wrong. He is my vendor. And yet, my body betrays me. A knot forms low in my stomach and all I can think about is his mouth against mine.
His hands move up my thighs, under my skirt, fingers hooking around my lace panties. And then they’re gone. He shoves them into his pocket and reaches for something in one of the nearby grocery bags.
My heart sinks to my gut.
A cucumber.
“Finley what are you—”
