Page 9 of Shattered Union

I groan, Jesus. Not her too. Chloe practically lives in that fucking store. Affordable clothes, my fecking arse. Christ, she’ll come back with about ten bags and a fuck load of make-up. None of which she’s allowed to wear.

“Hey,” she whines, “I’m not usually this bad, but there was a sale.”

I shake my head and reach into the boot of her car for the dozen or so bags she has in there. “Sale? What the fuck did you buy?”

She narrows her eyes at me. God, I love when she unleashes her sass, she’s never disrespectful, just passionate. It’s something I love about her. She knows where the line is and she hasn’t crossed it. No matter how angry she gets.

“Denny,” she snaps and I smile. Only my granda calls me Denny. I’ve no idea why she calls me that, but I like it. Zoe’s always called me Denis. “Do you pay for my shit?”

My lips twitch. “No.” She’d go for my balls if I tried that shit again. She told me she was redecorating her house and I left money on the side table for her to buy whatever shit she needed, and she lost her damn fucking mind. Telling me she’s not my whore and if I wanted one of those, all I had to do was go into the centre of Dublin and I’d find a couple dozen willing ones.

“Exactly, and if there’s ever a day that you do, then you can bitch about it,” she sasses me before turning on her heel and stomping toward her front door.

I watch on as her arse sways, my dick straining against my pants as I do.

“Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to come in?” she questions, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

I take half the bags into the house and quickly return for the others.

“Denny,” she yells as I’m walking up the stairs carrying her bags.

“Yeah,” I shout back as I walk into her bedroom.

“You hungry? I’m cooking.”

I put her bags beside her wardrobe. She’s a neat freak. Not a thing is out of place. She doesn’t complain about it though, she’ll let me do my own thing and then she’ll tidy up after me if I’ve left something out.

“Fuck yeah, babe. I’ll eat.” That’s something else I’ve learned about her. Not only is she a neat freak, incredibly sweet, fan-fucking-tastic in bed. She’s also an outstanding cook.

I shrug off my suit jacket and hang it on the back of the huge armchair she has beside the floor to ceiling window that covers almost one side of her room. I glance around and see it’s changed quite a bit since the last time I was here a couple of days ago.

The wall opposite me is painted an extremely pale blue. It’s subtle but stands out against the white that covers the rest of the walls as well as the dresser and wardrobe.

I hear her footsteps climbing the stairs and wait, knowing she’s coming in here. “You did a good job in here, babe.”

She smiles at me as she goes to the bags on the floor. Kneeling down, she starts to take things out and lay them on the floor into piles. “I wish it were me. I can’t paint for shite. Dad lost his mind when I tried to help.” She rolls her eyes. “I was never any good at colouring in between the lines.”

I chuckle at her comment. I can just imagine her getting pissy that she was thrown out of her own room.

“Thankfully, my dad finds it therapeutic to paint. He drives Mam crazy, every month he’s wanting to redecorate. It was my turn to take one for the team and save their marriage.” She rummages through the bags and throws something grey onto the bed. “Here, I got these for you. There’s a few different colours. Whatever you don’t wear, I’ll donate.” She throws two more things onto the bed. One black and one blue.

She doesn’t notice I’ve gone stock-still. She’s still rummaging through the clothes she’s purchased. Finally she gets to her feet, more clothes in her arms. “What’s wrong?” she asks, glancing between me and the bed where the clothes are lying. “Don’t you like them?” She drops what she had in her arms onto the bed and moves toward me. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

I stare at her unblinking. How the fuck did I manage to find her?

“Denny,” she whispers, her eyes wide and her lip trembling. “What’s wrong?”

“You bought me shit?”

She blinks as she worries her lip between her teeth. “Yeah, but as I said, if you don’t like them, it’s okay. You don’t need to wear them.”

I pull her against my body. God, this fucking woman. “No one has ever bought me clothes. Not because they were out shopping.”

Her body sags against mine. “Oh, handsome,” she whispers, as she furiously blinks, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s not like I went crazy, I went to Penneys and spent like thirty Euro.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you spent a Euro or a hundred,” I growl as I crash my lips against hers. She instantly melts into me. As soon as my tongue sweeps into her mouth she’s pressing against me. My dick is getting harder by the second, especially when she makes that fucking sweet moan in the back of her throat.

“Thank you, babe,” I say as I brush her hair from her face.

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