Page 33 of Brass
“Okay,” I concede. “I trust you.”
The words fall between us with unexpected weight. He holds my gaze in the mirror for a long moment, seeming to understand that I’m offering more than permission to cut my hair.
“I’ll be careful,” he says quietly.
He begins with a comb, working through the tangles with unexpected gentleness. His touch is sure but considerate, easing through knots without pulling. The same hands that disabled four men with lethal efficiency now handle my hair with a delicate, if not reverent, touch.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmurs, standing close enough that I feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. Water droplets still cling to his skin, occasionally falling onto my shoulder as he leans forward.
His fingers replace the comb as he sections my hair, the heat of his hands against my scalp sending another shiver through me. I close my eyes, surrendering to the strange intimacy of the moment.
The first snip of the scissors makes me flinch.
“Trust, remember?” His voice is low, close to my ear.
I nod, keeping my eyes closed as he works. The rhythmic sound of the scissors becomes almost meditative.Snip. Pause. The brush of his fingers. Snip. Snip. The gentle tug as he positions another section. His breathing steady and controlled above me.
Minutes pass in this strange, suspended intimacy. I’ve had relationships with men that felt less personal than this haircut. Less revealing.
“Open your eyes,” he says finally.
I obey, blinking at my reflection in surprise. The woman staring back at me is undeniably me, yet transformed. My hair now falls in a perfect butterfly cut—shorter layers in the back that graduate to longer, face-framing pieces in the front.It’s sophisticated, flattering, and completely different from my previous straight, one-length style.
“It’s…” Words fail me.
“Different enough to change your silhouette in security footage, but still suits you.” His hands rest lightly on my shoulders, our eyes meeting in the mirror. “The auburn color will complete the transformation.”
I reach up to touch the shorter strands, marveling at how the cut emphasizes my cheekbones and softens my jawline. “It’s beautiful.”
Something flickers in his eyes—satisfaction, perhaps. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.” I turn in the chair to look up at him directly. “You’re full of surprises, Ryan Ellis.”
We’re close now—too close. His hands still rest on my shoulders, warm and steady. From this angle, I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, a position that feels vulnerable and thrilling simultaneously.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he says softly.
For one breathless moment, I think he might bend down and kiss me. I want him to, despite every rational part of my brain screaming that it’s a terrible idea.
Instead, he steps back, breaking the spell. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
He begins cleaning up the fallen hair, moving with that same efficient grace that characterizes everything he does. I remain seated, touching the ends of my new haircut, watching him in the mirror.
This man is dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with his combat training. Nothing to do with the violence he’s capable of. He’s dangerous because he makes me want things I shouldn’t. Trust I can’t afford to give. Intimacy I’ve spent years avoiding.
Yet here I am, letting him transform me, piece by piece.
“What happens tomorrow?”
“We head to Seattle. Cerberus headquarters.” He moves to the bed, stripping off the decorative pillows and flipping back a corner of the blanket. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Right. The sleeping arrangements. I’d almost forgotten that particular complication.
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, gesturing at him. “The floor is hard.”
“Trust me, I’ve slept in worse places. The floor and I will manage just fine.” He glances at the narrow strip of carpet, mouth tugging wryly, before tossing down a pillow. “Besides, the floor doesn’t complain when I hog the covers.”
“We could share,” I blurt before I can stop myself. His head snaps up, eyes locking with mine, heat sparking in the charged space between us.
