Page 11 of Hexed, Vexed, & Undersexed
“No, thatfuckinggood,” he growls lowly, and my stomach flips in anticipation—I don’t know for what, but I sure as hell can imagine.
Sissy claps, breaking some of the sexual tension permeating the small space.
“Girl, you put the ‘itch’ in ‘witch’ and when all of America sees your gorgeous face with this hair, they’ll be itchin’ to copy you. Now, Preston honey, you make sure the network lets everyone know who did her hair, ya hear? I’ll be booking ladies in no time wanting ‘Witchy Wisteria,’ as I’m calling it.”
I turn to look at myself in the mirror, surprised at how bright the purple highlights are, and I beam at my reflection in satisfaction.
“Sissy, you are a hair genius!” I compliment, meaning it one hundred percent.
She’s cleverly woven the eggplant and heliotrope streaks throughout my hair to appear almost natural—that is, if wisteria was a God-given shade. The lighter lilac blends seamlessly with the deeper, brighter violet, which you can only see in brief flashes against my sable hair as it catches the light.
It’s like she captured the beauty of amethysts and placed it in my hair.
I hope the network tips her big.I also hope her prices are reasonable so I can pay for the upkeep after the show.
“I love it; thank you, thank you,” I gush.
“You’re welcome. Good luck on the show. I’ll be rooting for you—that you winandget your man,” she insinuates with a sly wink, glancing over at Preston.
“Thanks for the support. I plan on winning,” I boast, walking out with Preston.
Feeling confident, I touch his arm lightly.
“And getting the guy,” I add boldly.
Preston gives me a side-look.
“Who says you don’t already have him?” he asks, making my blood pressure rise.
We walk the rest of the way to my car in charged silence. When he opens the driver door for me, I blurt out everything on my mind.
“How long are we going to tiptoe aroundthis?” I wonder, motioning between him and me.
Fire flares in his eyes, but he douses it quickly.
“I would love nothing more than to stop ‘tiptoeing’ and run head-long intothis,” he practically purrs, angling his face mere inches from mine, “but we can’t.”
I lean in, ready for his lips to hungrily devour mine, when his last words finally register in my brain.
“Wait—what?Why not?” I whine.
Nothing’s more attractive than a thirty-something-year-old sulking.
“Because it’s prohibited.”
The way ‘prohibited’ rolls off his tongue sounds like an invitation—and fuck if I already haven’t RSVPed ‘yes’ to that party.
“And why is something between usforbidden, hmm?”
Preston frowns and leans back a little, creating space between us—space that I need but don’t want.
“Didn’t you read the pamphlet?”
“Yes, the network isn’t very creative,” I say dryly, thinking of the trials.
Preston cocks his head to the side.
“And the terms? What did those say?” he presses.
