Randy laughed nervously and glanced around. At a large melon display, an old lady glared at them. Randy glared back then ushered Debbie down the pasta aisle.
“Twice,” Debbie hissed. “Fucking twice,” she repeated. She settled her hand on his shoulder. She felt the heat of his skin beneath his shirt. Her eyes flicked to his nipples again and the thought of nibbling them overwhelmed her.
She thought, If you were mine, we’d only leave the bedroom to replenish body fluids.
“It’s been hard. Especially after I hired that new paralegal, Kristen. She hasn’t made her needs very subtle,” Randy said.
“No one would blame you,” Debbie said. “I mean, sex is something you NEED to do. Like sleeping. Or eating. Or fucking breathing for the love of God. Twice.”
“Neither was good. I tried, but she said she couldn’t, you know, so she just had me pump away until I was done. It was humiliating. If I wasn’t so desperate, I wouldn’t have, but what could I do? I’M probably the one that’s no good at–”
Debbie bashed her foot into the cart to stop it, and it skidded into a stack of angel hair pasta. She didn’t care. She clamped her hands on Randy’s cheeks. His hot skin scratched her palms. He hadn’t shaved today. His dark eyes looked shocked but not scared. In that moment, Debbie knew her lust wasn’t one-sided.
“It’s NOT you. Do you hear me? SHE is a bitch. Paris is the capital of France, Liberace was gay and my sister is a bitch. Those are facts. You are lucky you discovered it now instead of two decades from now. It is not your problem. Say that for me.” She held his cheeks, waiting.
“It’s not my problem,” Randy said.
His sweet breath tickled her eyelashes. His kiss would taste delectable. She’d never let that happen, of course…
Debbie reluctantly removed her hands, sliding them to his shoulders then his chest. Hot, firm skin beneath the fabric. What would it taste like?
Her hands just…traveled over him until she forced herself to remove them. She read his thoughts, and they mirrored hers, but they couldn’t. That was too wrong. That was too evil.
THAT was too naughty.
They walked slowly. Only the rusty squeak of the cart filled in the silence. They rumbled near the pasta sauces, and Randy hunched over and absently tossed a glass jar in the cart. Debbie looked back to see which brand he…
Then she saw.
Randy’s hunched body attempted, and failed, to hide his erection. Her touch and talk fed his imagination, and the result bulged along the inseam. Debbie felt a flash of satisfaction since she caused it.
Its thickness strained the fabric of his slacks. Randy limped against the cart to hide it.
That is what Debbie’s sister had reduced him to. A handsome man ashamed of his healthy—and substantial—erection. Like a thirteen-year-old kid.
At that moment, she decided.
Fuck it. I want him.