Page 57 of Filthy Love

His eyes warily glared.

“No.” It was half-baked at best, it didn't even sound right on his tongue when all he ached to do was please her.

Hadn’t he followed her voice upstairs to her bedroom once more after they’d eaten a takeout dinner. All the provocation he’d needed was her sweet dulcet tones calling his name and he’d practically fucking sprinted up the stairs, only to come to a dead halt when he saw what was in her hands.

His chest thumped. And he bared his teeth in hopes of scaring her.

He had better chance of painting the local church roof hanging upside down on his toenails. No matter how much he scowled or growled at Gia, she just smiled and looked at him like he had answers to all her questions.

He’d crossed so many lines in the last twenty-four hours he could no longer find it and everything in his chest hurt. It was hard to breathe without a mouthful of Gia-air.

She held the hair clippers in one hand and a pair of silver scissors in the other. A towel hooked over her forearm and she had a chair sitting in the middle of the bedroom as a makeshift barber’s station. “You’re so handsome, and you look like an overgrown moose!”

Hawk narrowed his eyes. Knew already he’d give in to anything she wanted. But he had to put up a token fight or she’d have him like a goddamn lap dog and he’d love it, for fucks sake. “No. Go away.”

“You look like Cousin It from the Addams family!”

Her amusement didn’t make his lips twitch at all...

“Gia…”

Look at her, she was delighted in herself. Advancing towards him on nimble toes. “You look like an Afghan hound!”

So goddamn pretty in her little cut off shorts she’d changed into before dinner and all he could taste in the back of his throat was her fucking juices.

All Hawk had heard all day long when he’d done the grunt work of moving her furniture from house to truck with the help of a couple of prospects was the cries she’d let out last night. And her sweet pleading.

He’d never known how desperate he’d been to hear her voice like that.

How could he have been prepared for the way his heart kicked every time she’d grabbed his hair and pumped her pussy against his lips.

All new sensations and Hawk was drowning in them.

“Please, Hawk? I won’t shear you bald,” she bit on her lip like she was nervous and why was she blushing? He watched in rapt interest as she twirled the scissors and looked anywhere but at him. And then all her words poured out of her lips without taking a breath. “If you’re going to do—that to me again and I want you to, I really want you to, then we have to cut your beard, so it doesn’t get you know … messy.”

She wanted to cut his beard, so he could go down on her some more.

Hawk’s brain began to bleed.

Huffing air into his chest, he had only one answer.

“Fine. Get on with it.” He scowled, like there was any other outcome. If she wanted to shore him down like a fucking sheep he’d sit still while she did it.

Slipping out of his denim jacket he tossed it on the bed and plonked himself in the chair. She wrapped a towel around his shoulders and began running fingers through his hair.

Hawk had to grind his teeth. His cock hurt. His fucking chest caved in having her hands on him.

Shit. This was a bad idea.

He began to rise and her hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t like to be touched.”

How did she know that? His brows fell over his eyes feeling coldness seep into his bones.

“I’ll try to minimize how much I touch you, Colton, okay?”

His throat cleared. “I don’t mind.”

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