The First Taste(25)

He sets his chin on top of my head. “Our eyes,” he says at the same moment I notice.

I nod. “They’re the same.”

“Almost.” He peers at me. “Yours are bluer.”

“Yours are the same as your sister’s.”

“And my daughter’s,” he says. “‘Indigo’ is what Sadie’s husband calls it. Totally creeps me out when he talks about how beautiful Sadie’s eyes are and then tells me in the same sentence how alike we look.”

I watch as we laugh together. As he kisses the back of my head. He pulls a bench out from under my vanity to sit on. “All right. Let’s do this.”

I drape a towel around his shoulders and get my comb from a drawer. “Do you normally make women work on the first date?”

“This isn’t a first date.”

“I was joking, because you freaked out earlier when I called it one.”

“It’s more like a second date,” he says, ignoring me. “We already had dinner, a walk, and a night cap. And you put out—bonus for me.”

I comb his hair off his face. I have no idea how I’m going to do this. “So how does date two go then?”

“I don’t know.” Our eyes meet in the reflection. “It’s been a while since I had one.”

My heart skips a beat—to my dismay. I ignore it. “Well, I can definitely say playing barber is a second-date first.”

“Good. I like to set myself apart.”

“You certainly have,” I mutter.

“Use your fingers,” he says, lacing his hands in his lap.

I set the comb aside and rake his long strands back. “How short do you want it?”

“Hmm?” His eyes are shut, his shoulders slightly hunched.

“Are you sleeping?”

“No.” He opens one eye, says, “However you like it” and closes it again.

“You aren’t going to watch? What if I mess up?”

“You won’t.” He scratches his jaw. “Actually, I’ll watch if you do it naked.”

I don’t even respond, just roll my eyes and shake my head to myself. I’ve seen stylists part hair down the middle. I start with that. “How do you normally style it?”

“It’s complicated,” he warns.

I furrow my eyebrows, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. I normally shampoo it, towel dry it, then go to work.”

“Um.”

“Sometimes I brush it. And sometimes when it’s long and bothering the f*ck out of me, I gel it back so I can see what I’m working on.”

I sigh, trying to sound annoyed, but I can’t help my smile. “All right. If that’s how you want to play this, then sit back and enjoy. I’ll do my best.” I pick up the scissors and run my fingers through one side of his hair. When I have a chunk, I trim off the top.

“That was the first snip,” I say, since his eyes are still closed.

I wait to see if he’ll stop me, but he just says, “Great.”

I continue, doing my best to make sure the trim is even, careful not to cut it too short.

I want something I can get a handful of—even if it’s only for tonight.





SEVEN


Standing between Andrew’s legs, I make the final snip, and his black hair falls to the floor. Normally, I’d clean up the mess I’ve made right away, but I’m too busy surveying my work. For as much as my trade requires me to judge other people by their appearances, I feel like I should have a better idea whether or not I’ve done a decent job. “I’m done.”

Andrew blinks his eyes open and looks up at me. “Yeah?”

I nod. “You are officially my first client.”

He grins, takes the scissors out of my hands, and sets them on the counter behind me. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m blocking the mirror,” I say. “You haven’t even seen your hair.”

“It felt amazing.” He takes me by the waist, and pulls me a few inches forward until he’s looking straight up at me. “And you did it how you want it. So I know I’ll like it.”

I cup his cheek without thinking and look into his eyes. All at once, the moment feels overwhelmingly intimate. I remove my hand. “Are you leaving now?” I ask.

“Leaving? No. Not now.” He parts my towel and slips a hand underneath. “Now, I’m going to f*ck you again.”

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as my stomach flutters. I came by his hands in the bathtub twenty minutes ago, but already, warmth and need creeps up my chest.

He pulls me forward to straddle his lap. “Wasn’t this the position you applied for?” I ask, undulating my hips once.

He groans. “Woman on top.”

I slide my hand over his pec. “You made me feel good. I want to return the favor.”

“I won’t say no.” He wedges his hands under my ass and brings me closer. My towel parts, and I’m pressed up against his stone-like cock. I put my arms around his neck, gyrating over him.

“Fuck,” he says into my neck, sounding like he’s got a mouthful of grit. “I need to be inside you.”

“You can be,” I say, barely recognizing my own voice, “when I say so.”