Page 25 of Fast Currents
Her eyes followed each time I pushed my hair out of my face, something like tenderness creeping into her expression. That alone made me not want to cut it. But I’d already agreed.
“You ready to face my scissors?” she asked.
I should have been nervous. But there was no teasing in her tone.
I dipped my chin, holding her gaze.
She directed me to a chair in her kitchen. “Take a seat, Robertson. I’ll grab my shears.”
“Do you have one of those fancy capes? I always thought I’d look good in one.” I propped my fists on my hips. “Downright heroic.”
“And so modest, Robertson. I have a towel we can wrap around your shoulders. It’ll have to do.”
She returned a moment later, silver scissors in one hand and two blue towels tucked beneath her elbow. Her dark hairbrushed her shoulders. She’d taken off her sweatshirt, revealing a white V-neck tee in its place. Her hips filled out her jeans, painting a picture of casual grace.
She stepped behind me, tugging my hat off. Her fingers tangled in my hair, lifting in sections as she examined the length. The gentle tickle as she tugged felt impossibly good. I wanted to bask in her touch, arching into her hands like a cat seeking attention.
“What are you thinking, style-wise?” she asked, stepping to my front. There was a breathy aspect to her voice, unlike anything I’d heard from her before. She wet her lips, drawing my gaze to her pink mouth. The urge to kiss her was nearly overwhelming.
“Just shorter. I’ll leave myself in your capable hands.” I held her gaze. Her eyes darkened. Electricity snapped in the air around us. I was already tense, unable to relax under her touch. Keyed up with her near.
“Let’s get you wet first.”
My chuckle came out deep and low, like a roll of thunder. “That should be my line.”
“Charmer.” Her tone was wry, her voice husky.
I scooted back until I could lean over the kitchen sink. Lucy turned on the water, watching me as it warmed. As much as I appreciated her not blasting me with cold water, having her hover above me was agony. Her soft breasts swung at eye-level, making it impossible not to notice the way her nipples had tightened beneath the white cotton.
She cleared her throat, the sound loud in the quiet kitchen. One of her thighs slipped between mine as she scooted closer until she was pressed against my side. Every inch of her soft curves nestled against me, making me painfully aware of how much I wanted the freedom to touch her.
But this was the game.
She met my gaze, her dark eyes flashing with heat. Lucy knew exactly what she was doing to me. How she was tempting me. What would happen if I tipped her into my lap?
Warm water sluiced over my head, sending a trickle straight down my face. Reminding me that she was the one in control. The one with scissors.
Her fingers speared through my hair. She directed the sprayer across my crown. The contrast of warm water and her nails scraping at my scalp felt amazing. If her goal was to turn me into a puddle, she was succeeding. How long had it been since I’d been touched like this? A year? Five?
Sure, I’d had haircuts. But those had been all business. This was something else.
Her breast brushed my shoulder, making me aware of her thighs bracketing mine as she leaned in to reach the back of my head.
I let out something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper.
“Too hot?” Lucy murmured.
Yes. “No.”
“Almost done.”
She shut off the water, rubbing my head with a towel. The rough strokes telegraphed directly to my dick, making it hard to focus. She was everywhere. Warm weight leaning against my chest. Hands in my hair. Spicy sweet scent enticing me.
The snip-snip of her scissors brought me back to earth. Locks of my hair fell to the floor around us like wet confetti. She seemed wholly focused on the task at hand, combing and tugging as she reshaped my hair into some semblance of a style.
She bit her lip, her teeth piercing the rosy pink flesh. I held back a groan, imagining her lips elsewhere. She was barely touching me, and I was still hard enough to worry about making a mess in my jeans. Her scent, her single-minded focus, everything was turning me on.
She leaned back, tugging strands from each side of my part, testing their length as she squinted at me.
