“No guys I know.”
She cocked her brow and shook her head as she gestured her hand toward the chair. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I sauntered over and sat like I was told, and she quickly draped a cape around my neck before she started running her fingers through my hair. My breath hitched before I could stop it.
Damn.
She noticed. There was no way she didn’t, but she didn’t comment. She just smiled to herself and reached for the scissors. “So how short do you want to go?”
“Not sure short needs to be in the vocabulary.”
“Okay. So, how about just an inch or so?” she suggested. “Just enough to get it out of your eyes.”
“That sounds good.”
She nodded, then moved in. She started slow and careful. Her fingers combed through my hair, and her nails barely raked against my scalp. It felt good. Damn good. She was quiet and intentional—nothing like Bruce down at the barbershop.
Man talked ninety to nothing, and he wasn’t nearly as pretty.
I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of having her so close. Every touch, every breath, pulled me deeper into her trance. Her hip brushed against my shoulder as she shifted positions, and I had to grip the arm of the chair to keep my hands were they belonged.
There are no words to describe how much I wanted to reach for her, pull her into my lap, and plant my mouth on hers. I was teetering on the edge when she leaned in closer, and I felt the warmth of her breath against my ear. Without thinking, I lifted my hand and rested it on her hip.
She stilled, but she didn’t pull away.
She glanced down at me and smiled. “You good?”
“I’m more than good.”
I would’ve never dreamed that a fucking haircut could turn me on, but there I sat, fighting a complete come apart, praying that this damn cape was enough to cover the massive bulge growing in my pants. This was self-restraint like I’d never had to endure.
Fuck me.
This woman had gotten under my skin, and she’d done it without even trying. She stepped between my knees, and I didn’t bother inching back. There was no sense pretending this was anything other than what it was, so I stayed right where I was and let her decide where the moment would take us.
It took her a second, but then her breath caught. It was just a hint, and I felt it more than I heard it.
But she recovered fast.
She kept working like the shift in the air hadn’t rattled us both. Her thigh brushed mine as she repositioned. It was brief but deliberate, and my jaw tightened in response. I dropped my hands to my thighs, pressing the pads of my thumbs into the muscle, hoping it would ground me.
It didn’t.
She kept cutting, calm and steady, and did her best to seem unfazed as she continued to stand between my legs. When she was finally finished, she stepped back and turned the chair to face the mirror. “What do you think?”
I barely glanced at my reflection, but I could see it was a good cut. Hell, I looked better than I had in years, but I couldn’t have cared less about my fucking hair. My eyes met hers in the mirror. “I think I’m gonna need a cold shower and a stiff drink.”
“You’re impossible.”
She laughed and shook her head as she unfastened the cape, gently pulling it from my shoulders. I stood and leaned in as I told her, “Maybe, but you’re the one with the scissors in your hand and me in that chair.”
“Well, you’re free now.” She swept the hair from the floor and over to the trash. “Surely you can behave until we get back to the truck.”
“I make no promises.”
She locked up, and we made our way back out to the truck. Before she climbed inside, she glanced over at me with a longing look in her eyes, and all my restraint faded into the night. I stepped toward her and announced, “I’m going to kiss you.”
