I was straightening books on the shelf when a clatter at the front door of the bookstore drew my attention. A man was pulling on the handle of the locked door with one hand, knocking furiously with the other.
My manager, Ethan, looked up from where he had been reconciling the registers. "We're closed," he called, gesturing at the darkened sign in the window.
"I just need one thing," the man insisted.
Ethan shook his head. "Sorry, man. We open again tomorrow at ten."
The man kicked the door and strode away.
Jenny, a coworker, looked up from where she had been bagging up the trash and huffed, blowing back a strand of her blue hair. "Jesus, some people."
Ethan shot her a sardonic smile. "Right? It's a fucking bookstore."
Andy came out from the back of the store, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Back's all clean," he told us.
"Awesome." Ethan made the last note on the sheet in front of him and closed the register drawer. "Chloe, how's the shelves?"
"Finished with resorts," I told him. "I've got section three left to straighten and I'm good."
He nodded. "Finish that up and you guys get the hell out of here." We murmured our assent and, before long, I was following Jenny and Andy out the back door of the store.
I was nearly at my car when I realized I had left the bag of purchases I had made inside on my shelf in the back. I swore.
"You all right, Chlo?" Andy called, one foot in his car.
"Sure, just forgot something." I waved him off. "Gonna run back in. Have a good night!"
"You too."
Sighing, I fumbled with my keys, finding the one that would let me back into the store. Overhead, the alarm chimed as I opened the door.
"Who's that?" Ethan called from the front of the store.
"It's me," I yelled back. "Forgot something."
I grabbed the bag I had forgotten and paused in the door. I debated for a long moment before heading back into the front of the store.
Ethan was no longer at the front check-out counter, but our back counter where we evaluated used products our customers brought in to sell to us. He was leaning heavily on the high counter, surrounded by paperwork as he carefully transcribed numbers from one sheet to another.
Given his back was to me, I didn't bother to be subtle as I stared. Ethan was a strikingly beautiful man: extremely tall—more than a foot taller than I was—with a lean build, fair skin, and dark hair and eyes. The jeans he wore hugged his body and his t-shirt was snug enough to show off the muscle definition of his upper body. If it weren't enough that he was gorgeous, he was also a great person—kind and well-mannered, funny and smart. I had told my best friend on more than one occasion that if I were to build a man to order like a burrito, Ethan would be who I came up with.
"You find what you forgot?" His voice startled me from my thoughts.
"Yeah." I slipped around him to hop up and sit on the counter, careful not to disturb his paperwork, and settled my bag next to me. "Are you about done?" I asked him.
"Should be soon," he sighed. "Have you talked to Jack about the shift lead position?"
I nodded. Jack was our store manager; Ethan and two others were shift leads, and one of those shift leads had recently left the company, leaving a vacant position. I, and a couple others, had indicated interest in the position. "He says he'll know more about what he's doing after he looks at the numbers at the end of the month."
Ethan nodded. "Keep on him. You'd be great."
I smiled a little, blushing faintly. "Thanks. I'll keep harassing him about it. He can't hate me anymore than he already does."
Ethan grinned. "I keep telling you, Jack is a dick. He hates everyone."
"He especially hates me." I watched as he finished one set of paperwork and began the other. "Did Jenny tell you about that asshat earlier?"
"Which one? We're always full of them."
"The one who talked to us about our skin?"
"No, what happened?"
"The guy complimented her on her skin, told her it was pretty. Which is weird, but whatever. Then he started asking she and I about what face products we used, how we kept our skin looking so soft, how he bet neither of us ever had a problem with acne..."
Ethan snorted. "It puts the lotion on its skin?"
I giggled. "That's what we kept thinking! I'm half surprised he wasn't waiting out back for us."
Ethan laughed, shaking his head. "I swear, the people who come in this store sometimes." He shuffled his papers together and leaned over me to grab a folder from underneath the counter. In doing so, he absently rested his other hand against my knee.
My bare knee, inches below the hem of my skirt.
I held my breath, and he froze. His hand tightened, briefly, before he pulled back, a flush in his cheeks, and shoved his papers into the folder.
"Sorry," he said, "didn't mean—"
Suddenly bold, I put my hand over his. "I'm not."
He stopped. "I guess I'm not sorry either." He straightened the papers in the folder before setting it aside. "You know," he said casually, coming to stand in front of me, "that company policy says nothing against employees dating. Even shift leads and employees."
"I thought I knew that," I agreed.
"Right? The only thing is that the store manager has to be aware of the relationship."
"Convenient."
Ethan traced my knee with the tip of a finger. "Jack will be opening the store tomorrow," he noted, "and I'll be in by 2:30. I'm sure I'd be able to talk with him before he leaves."
His fingertip hit a sensitive place on the inside of my knee, and I couldn't suppress a small jump. Ethan smiled.
Almost before I could process what was happening, his mouth was on mine, hard and fast. I gasped, and his tongue found mine. His hand that had been on my knee rested now on my bare thigh, searing me with its heat; his other hand came up to cradle my head as he kissed me, fingertips running along my jaw. My hands pressed against his sides, fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
When he pulled back, we were both out of breath. He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine. His hands remained where they were, more or less, though he stroked my skin gently, almost absently. "I'd say I hadn't imagined this happening this way, but I'd be lying."
"Good," I murmured. "So would I."
A warm, teasing smile spread on his face. "Why, Chloe, are you admitting to having fantasized about kissing me on the buy counter?"
His hand on my thigh made me bold. "Not exactly." My hands drifted up to his shoulders. "When I thought about it, we didn't just stop at kissing." I pulled him down to me before he processed my words. I could tell when he did, because he groaned softly into the kiss, his hands falling to my waist, stroking and squeezing me through my thin cotton shirt.
"Wicked," he murmured, trailing his lips along my jawline. My skin flamed where he touched me. His hands drew me to the edge of the counter, his body pressing against mine. I let my knees fall apart, pulling him closer to me. I could feel him, hard already, as our hips came together. He slipped a hand under my shirt, cupping my breast, and I wrapped my legs around him, grinding against him. He bit my neck in response.
A hand I had almost not noticed on my leg went under my skirt, teasing along my inner thigh. I kissed along his collarbone, drew my tongue across the pulse point in his neck; he shuddered. His hand reached its destination; I felt the heat of it through my panties before he touched me. Deftly, he drew my panties to the side before teasing me with his fingers. I arched against him, muffling my gasp against his neck. Gently, he plunged first one, then two fingers inside me, curling them upward as he moved his hand. I whimpered and clung to his shoulders as he teased his mouth across my neck, twisting and fucking me with his fingers.
"So hot, so wet," he murmured against my skin. "Tell me, Chloe," he thrusted his hand deep, drawing a sharp moan from me, "were you planning this?"
I didn't answer, just moved my hips to urge his fingers to fuck me harder.
He stilled, and I whined. His thumb slowly, painstakingly, brushed over my clit. I shuddered. "Answer me."
"N-no," I managed, my whole body tense as I waited for him to touch me again. He did, the softest brush of the pad of his thumb. My hips jerked.