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The cart wasn’t even halfway down the first aisle and Regina was already judging Emma.
Emma reached for a box of sugar-frosted cereal—cartoon tiger and all—and heard those heels click to a stop behind her.
A long pause.
Then. “Darling. What is that?”
Emma didn’t even turn around. “Cereal.”
“Cereal for who? Your inner six-year-old?”
Emma grabbed the box anyway. “Henry likes it.”
Regina stepped closer. “Henry hasn’t eaten that since he was eight. Try again.” Her fingers slid around Emma’s wrist like a silk ribbon. “Put it back.”
Emma looked at her. One arched brow, glossy lips pursed. Regina was in a cream silk blouse, fitted perfectly over her curves, blazer thrown over her shoulders like some off-duty CEO-slash-villainess with a shopping list. Her hair was immaculate. Her attitude? Impossibly smug.
Emma put it back.
The cart rolled forward again.
Emma tried to sneak in a bag of off-brand cookies while Regina was examining the apples.
She tried.
“What is this?” Regina asked, holding up the package like it was nuclear waste.
“Cookies.”
“No, honey, this is disappointment with chocolate chips.”
Emma took them back, whining. “So what can I pick?”
Regina glided toward the apple display. Her eyes sparkled as she picked up a big red honeycrisp, held it up to the light, then turned to look at Emma with a smile that was way too pleased.
“Apples,” she said sweetly. “You may pick apples.”
Emma stared. “That’s it?”
“They’re healthy. Sensible. Beautiful.” She leaned in with a wicked smile. “Like me.”
Emma rolled her eyes and dropped three into the cart.
Regina frowned. “Five.”
“What?”
“Five apples. One for each morning this week. I pack your lunches now.”
Emma blinked. “I didn’t know that.”
“You don’t have to.” Regina turned to drop the apples in, brushing her hand along Emma’s arm.
Down the dairy aisle, she made Emma switch from her favorite oat milk to the “organic, pressed, non-homogenized” one that costs eight dollars more. “You deserve better than that chalky nonsense,” she said primly.
Emma obediently swapped it.
Then came the clinginess.
Anytime Emma strayed too far—grabbing a jar, glancing at the endcap, existing more than two feet away—Regina was suddenly at her side again, fingers brushing her back, her voice purring, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Nowhere! I was—just checking—”
“Mmm.” Regina smiled like a panther who’d caught her prey wandering. “That’s what I thought.”
She slid her hand into Emma’s like it belonged there, fingers interlocking with a possessive squeeze. “You stay close to me, honey.”
“You’re acting like I’m gonna run off like a five year old.”
“You might.” She glanced sideways, dramatic. “There’s a woman by the freezer who’s been watching you.”
Emma looked. There was nobody.
“Regina.”
“She was there earlier.”
“Babe.”
Regina narrowed her eyes at the frosted glass. “I don’t trust her.”
Finally, Emma made it to checkout with a cart full of approved items only. Mostly fresh vegetables, cheeses, overpriced condiments she’d never heard of, and of course—five perfect apples.
“You’re scary in a grocery store,” Emma muttered.
“I’m a delight,” Regina sniffed, standing close behind Emma, chest pressed lightly to her back while Emma fumbled with her wallet. “Besides, someone has to protect you from your worst impulses. Like buying frozen pizza. Or trusting women near freezers.”
Emma laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
Regina just kissed her cheek in front of the teenage cashier. The poor girl dropped the bottle of olive oil.
The bags were barely unpacked when Regina said it.
“Sit down. I’ll change and start dinner.”
Emma tried to help—really—but Regina gave her that look, the one that meant: Sit your little ass down or you won’t be sitting comfortably later. So she obeyed, perched on the edge of the couch like a little kid, listening to Regina’s heels click toward the bedroom.
But then she heard it.
“Actually…”
“Come here, honey.”
Emma’s heart jumped.
She padded upstairs, palms a little sweaty, wondering if she did something wrong—or worse, if Regina was about to scold her for folding the clothes wrong again.
But when she stepped inside, Regina was standing by the mirror, back turned slightly, fingers brushing the front of her silk blouse.
The one from earlier.
Cream colored. Gold buttons. Hugging her like a sin.
She turned her head, just enough to look at Emma over her shoulder.
“Help me take this off?”
Emma blinked. “The blouse?”
Regina gave a little nod, pretending to be casual, but Emma could see the glint in her eyes.
“It’s your fault anyway. You kept staring at it in the dairy aisle.”
Emma flushed. “I wasn’t—!”
“Honey.”
She said it in that voice. The one that meant: Don’t lie to me. Don’t even try.
So Emma shut up.
Regina turned to face her fully, letting the fabric fall open just a little at her chest.
“Come on. Be useful. Unbutton me.”
Emma’s breath caught. She stepped closer. Carefully.
Her fingers found the top button.
Tiny. Gold. Shiny.
Regina watched her the whole time.
“Slowly,” she murmured, brushing Emma’s wrist with her nails. “This blouse is expensive.”
Emma nodded, already dizzy.
One button.
Two.
She reached the third and paused, because Regina’s skin was showing now—warm and soft and perfect, the curve of her collarbone, the lace of her bra peeking out—
“Don’t stop,” Regina whispered, tilting her head. “You’re doing so well.”
The fourth button popped open. Then the fifth.
And now…her blouse was open, hanging loose over her shoulders.
She didn’t move to shrug it off.
Instead, she stepped forward and climbed right into Emma’s lap.
“There. Much better.”
Emma barely managed a sound as Regina’s weight settled on her thighs, blouse still open, chest pressed to hers. Her nails scratched lightly at Emma’s neck.
“I don’t need it off just yet,” she said, kissing the corner of Emma’s mouth. “I just wanted you to undress me.”
Emma swallowed.
“Why?”
Regina smiled lazily, nose brushing hers.
“Because you looked like you needed something to do with those pretty hands.”
She leaned closer, brushing Emma’s lips with hers but not kissing. Not yet.
“And because I like watching you blush.”
Emma whimpered. Just a little.
Regina smirked.
“You want to touch me?” she asked, innocent as a lie.
Emma nodded.
“Too bad. Mommy said you could unbutton, not touch.”
Emma died inside. A little.
But then Regina’s hands slid under her shirt and her voice dipped low.
“But maybe if you’re very good…”
“I’ll let you push other buttons too.”