Page 43 of Powerful

He sighs. ‘What now?’

‘Nothing,’ I snort. ‘Just tickles.’

‘Paedyn was right. These crooked bangs are all your doing.’

I cross my arms, attempting to sit still. ‘Maybe I like my bangs a little crooked. Adds character.’

‘Oh, you don’t need any more of that.’

He makes the final cut, letting the hair fall into my lap alongside the rest. I collect the ends of my curls into a palm, silently mourning their loss as though they felt each cut of the blade.

When I look back up at him, he slowly raises a hand towards me, giving me enough time to duck away. But instead, I still, allowing him to run his fingers through the freshly cut bangs.

‘Still crooked?’ I ask quietly.

He nods, smiling with the corner of his mouth. ‘Not if you tilt your head.’

The sorrow in his gaze has lessened with each passing day, and when I look at him now, all I see is contentment. Acceptance. I grin back, nodding to his shiny hair and each strand escaping the hastily tied strap. ‘Well, not all of us can have perfect hair.’

He laughs, and I shudder at the deep sound of it. ‘My hair is probably the least perfect thing about me.’ He gestures to the streak of silver peeking out amongst theblack strands. ‘It’s marred by this streak of…’

His voice trails off when my fingers find that strip of silver. I trace the strands, memorize the feel of it beneath my fingertips. I can hear him breathing, feel him inching closer with each passing second.

‘I think it’s perfect,’ I whisper, smiling at the shining silver. ‘Like my little piece of Pae.’

His hand finds my waist, fingers firm in a way that has my head spinning. Right when I think I may combust at his touch, that hand of his begins traveling up my back to tug me towards him.

He pulls me close, and I’m suddenly, silently hoping he never stops. With his arm wrapped tightly round me, he leans forward until our foreheads brush. And that’s when he whispers, ‘I think you’re my little piece of perfection.’

My heart pounds at his words, at the feel of his hold and brush of his fingers.

I’ve spent my whole life wishing to be wanted. And here he is, begging me to let him.

I pull back just far enough to meet his eyes, finding reverence in his gaze. With a deep breath, all fear seems to fall away when I focus on him. When I abandon expectations and simplyam.

He is my fantasy. This is my reality.

With that realization, all hesitation vanishes.

And I kiss him.

My hands cup his face, fingers splayed over proud cheekbones. It’s light, this kiss. Innocent and sweet. He kisses me gently, holds me protectively. His lips are soft against mine, tender and warm.

I pull back slightly, eyeing him through the bangs he just cut. But his gaze is on my lips, tracing the shape of them. The sight of it has my heart pounding wildly, my mind murmuring ideas that I’ve never had the courage to do before this moment.

His hand flexes against my back, forcing me to take a shaky breath. ‘I… I’m not very good at this, Mak,’ I stammer breathlessly. ‘I’m not used to the boys I like actually talking to me, let alone touching me like—’

‘Are you going to stop talking long enough to let me kiss you properly?’ His voice is breathless, eyes flicking down to my lips.

‘Um…’ I swallow, inching towards him. ‘Well, I haven’t quite met my word count for the—’

His lips crash into mine.

This kiss is quite the opposite of the first one we shared. His hands are in my hair, running down myneck. It is deep and drawn out and everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

He drops an arm round my waist, pulling me tight enough against him that I vaguely wonder if he can feel my thundering heart. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’ve swung a leg over both of his, finding myself suddenly perched on his lap.

He does something then. Something far more intimate than any kiss or touch so far. No, he pulls back far enough to let me see him smile.

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