Destiny and fate: Zion Kuwonu fanfic

Chapter Four

The snow flurries start to mix with sleet as we're making our way through the parking lot. "Run," he says. He takes my hand in his and pulls me faster toward the entrance. We're out of breath and laughing when we make it inside the store, shaking the wetness from our clothes. I take my jacket off and shake it out, when his hand brushes against my face, wiping away a stand of wet hair that's stuck to my cheek. His hand is cold, but the moment his fingers graze my skin, I forget about the frigid temperature as my face grows warm. His smile fades as we both stare at each other. I'm still trying to become accustomed to the reactions I have around him. The slightest touch and simplest gestures have such an intense effect on my senses.

I clear my throat and break our stare as I grab an available cart next to us. I hand him the grocery list. "Does it always snow here?" I ask in an attempt to appear unfazed by his touch.
"Well I guess yes. It's pretty normal"
We get the items on our list and head to the checkout. He refuses to let me put anything on the conveyor belt, so I just stand back and watch as he unloads the items from the buggy. When we pull out of the grocery store, Zion tells me to turn in the direction opposite to the one from which we came. We drive maybe two whole blocks when he instructs me to turn left— onto our street. The drive that took us twenty minutes on the way there takes us less than a minute on the way back.
"Nice," I say when I pull in my driveway. I realize what's he's done and that the flirtation on his end is blatantly obvious.
Zion has already rounded to the back of the Jeep, so I press the trunk lever for him. I get out and walk to where he is, expecting him to have an armload of groceries. Instead, he's just standing there holding the trunk up, watching me.
It feels awkward somehow but I place my hand across my chest and say, "Thank you so much for your hospitality, I never would have been able to find the store without your help"

I expect him to say something, but he just stands there, starring at me.
"What?" I say nervously.
He takes a step toward me and softly cups my chin with his free hand. I'm shocked by my own reaction, the fact that I allow it. He studies my face for a few seconds as my heart races within my chest. I think he's about to kiss me.
I attempt to calm my breathing as I stare up at him. He steps in even closer and removes his hand from my chin and places it on the back of my neck, leaning my head in toward him. His lips press gently against my forehead, lingering a few seconds before he releases his hand and steps back.
"You're so cute," he says. He reaches to the trunk and grabs four sacks with one hefty swoop. He walks toward the house and sets them outside the door. I'm frozen, attempting to absorb the last fifteen seconds of my life. Where did that come from? Why did I just stand there and let him do that? Despite my objections I realize, almost pathetically, that I have just experienced the most passionate kiss I've ever received from a guy— and it was on the freaking forehead!