I widened my eyes.
Her fingers flew—swift, sure, graceful. Just like that, the braid formed evenly. “For some, detangling feels like a chore, and I get it. But for me, it’s self-care. It’s peace. I get to slow down, breathe, and show myself love. And for really rough months, every knot I undo feels like healing.”
I was so goddamn fascinated.
She looked over her shoulder and winked. “If you have something else to do you can—”
“Absolutely not. I must see this to the end.”
“Why?”
“It feels like I’m watching a temple ceremony.”
Her laughter filled the room, warm and unguarded, but I meant every word.
More time passed, and I remained in the doorway as her fingers moved through her hair with slow precision, dividing into sections, smoothing oil, detangling, and then braiding.
One would have thought my cock would have gone down, but it didn’t. The greedy length remained hard.
Seeing Nyomi detangle and braid her hair shouldn’t have affected me the way it did, yet lust stirred inside my core.
Had the erection remained from just the sight of her patience with the task?
Or was it the tenderness of her fingers moving through her own hair, that made me horny?
Perhaps, the reason was biological?
Psychological?
Instinct or just madness?
Maybe it was some primitive recognition buried deep in my DNA.
And then suddenly. . .I imagined my Tiger’s hands guiding our daughter’s smaller hands through the same detangling process one day.
And that vision—uninvited and raw—set my pulse racing.
More heat surged through me.
I didn’t know why detangling hair could make me think about life and legacy. But in that moment, watching the woman I loved care for herself with such grace, every cell in me ached with the same message—I’m definitely getting her pregnant before the end of this war.
I smiled.
If the spy didn't kill us first.
The thought came unbidden, cold water on hot coals. Someone in my organization was trying to feed my father information. Someone close enough to know our movements, our plans, our vulnerabilities.
Someone who could reach Nyomi if I weren’t careful.
I pushed the thought away and focused on the woman in front of me, detangling her hair with the same patience she showed herself.
Tomorrow, she'd start hunting.
Tomorrow, we'd find the rat.
But today, I'd just watch her exist.
We’ll get the spy.
