Page 131 of New Growth
“This will make it worse,” I said, almost warning him.
“I’ll take my chances.” His lips found mine briefly in a soft press. My heart hammered in my chest, my body betraying me as I kissed him back for a split second before pulling away.
“One kiss,” I said firmly, my voice a little shaky. He looked at my lips, his eyes dark with want, nodding along to whatever I said if it meant he’d get his kiss.
“Yes. I completely understand, Ellie.”
His hands cupped my face, drawing me in before I could say more. The kiss began slow and tentative before deepening with unexpected urgency. His warm, soft lips pressed against mine, and I felt his breath mingle with mine as his fingers threaded through my hair. In that tender yet intense moment, my heart quickened, and every barrier I’d built began to crumble.
The pressure of his body against mine sent a jolt of electricity through me. As he slid his tongue along the edge of my lip, I felt a shiver race down my spine. He deepened the kiss, his breath growing heavier, his hands sliding down to my waist. He tasted like peppermint, and coffee. When he pulled back slightly, his gaze locked onto mine.
Before I could react, his lips trailed down to my neck, kissing and nipping gently at the sensitive skin there. I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped me, the feeling of his mouth moving against my pulse making my skin burn with heat. His lips were relentless as he lingered at the curve of my neck, pressing soft, hot kisses that made my whole body tense with need.
My hands instinctively moved to his chest, pushing him back slightly, but his grip tightened around me, pulling me closer as if he couldn’t get enough.
“El…” I whispered, breathless, unsure if I was begging him to stop or urging him to keep going.
He groaned quietly, his forehead resting against my shoulder. “I know, I know. One kiss.”
My tongue ran over my swollen lips, trying to get another taste of him. “Yeah...”
He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Maybe it’s best to call it a night?”
“Okay,” I replied, my voice calm despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside me.
“Can I stay over?”
“Please,” I said, the word a little too desperate, even for me.
He gave me a soft smile, though I could see the unease in his eyes before he curled up next to me.
“I want more of your cookies, Ellie.”
Enjoyment.
Ihadn’tsleptproperlyin two days.
My entire house was a disaster—half-finished wigs on mannequin heads, bottles of styling foam and leave-in conditioner scattered across the counter, and my sketchbook lying open on the floor, pages filled with last-minute adjustments for the models.
The air smelled like burnt synthetic hair and coconut oil, thick enough to cling to my clothes. I barely noticed it anymore.
It was crunch time. The expo was two months away.
I sat cross-legged on my living room floor, a full-lace wig clamped onto a stand in front of me. My fingers moved on autopilot, parting, braiding, and securing the hair in place. My fingers ached, stiff from braiding for hours, but I wasn’t done yet. I grabbed a fine-toothed comb and started parting the hair into clean, sharp sections. Each part had to be perfect—straight enough to look effortless, neat enough to hold under the lights of the stage. Precision was everything, especially since I had to style at least three more of these before tomorrow for London to review.
I grabbed the book, flipping to the page with what I had left to do:
Finish styling the lace fronts.
Order new drill bits for Es.
