Page 40 of Made for Wilde
"Almost done," I murmur, making the final adjustments.
I run my fingers through his hair one last time, checking for evenness, savoring the silky texture.
"There," I say as I take a step back. I grab the hand mirror from the counter and hold it out to him. "What do you think?"
Koda's fingers brush mine as he takes the mirror from my hand.
Suddenly, I start to feel nervous.
What if he hates it? What if I've butchered the hair of the most intimidating man I've ever met?
He studies his reflection for what feels like an eternity, turning his head side to side. I've taken off about two inches, cleaned up the edges, but left enough length that it still frames his face in that rugged way that makes my heart race.
"Well?" I ask.
Koda sets the mirror down. Finally, he says, "It's perfect, baby."
His eyes flick up to meet mine, and something shifts in the air between us.
Does he feel this, too, this impossible pull? Or am I imagining it all, projecting my own desires onto a man who sees me as nothing more than his best friend's daughter?
The silence stretches between us.
"Fuck it," Koda growls.
Then his hands are cupping my face, and his mouth is on mine.
He kisses me like a man drowning, and my hands find his shoulders as I melt into him. His beard scratches against my skin as his mouth claims mine, and when his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I open for him with a gasp.
Koda's hands slide into my hair as he tilts my head to deepen the kiss. One of his hands drops to my waist, fingers digging into my hip as he pulls me between his thighs. The scissors clatter to the floor as I press closer.
"Charlotte," he breathes against my mouth.
The sound of my name snaps me back to reality.
I pull back, panting. Koda's eyes are nearly black, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"I..." I start, but the words die in my throat.
Koda runs a hand through his freshly cut hair.
"I shouldn't have done that," he says. "Charlotte, I'm sorry."
The apology cuts deeper than it should.
"Are you? Sorry, I mean?"
"I should be."
"But are you?" I press.
Koda takes a step toward me, then stops himself, his hands clenching at his sides.
"No," he admits. "I'm not."
I take a step forward and close the distance he created.
"I'm not sorry either," I whisper.
