Archer's Voice(36)

They're fine, Bree.

I was still doubtful, but I nodded anyway.

He smiled.

I tilted my head to the side. So, Archer, I brought something with me, but before I show you, I just want you to know that if you don't like the idea… or… just want to say no to me, I'll completely understand.

He raised an eyebrow. This sounds scary.

I breathed out a small laugh. No… just… well, let me show you. I went over to the small bag I had brought and pulled out my scissors.

Archer looked at them warily.

I thought you might want a haircut, I said, and then hurried on, but if you don't, that's okay too. I'm not saying you need one, but, well, you need one. But I can also just take off a little–more like a trim.

He smiled a slightly embarrassed smile and put his hand on the back of his neck, but then took it down and looked up at me. I'd like that.

I grinned. You would? Okay! I mean, I'm not the greatest, but I can make it straight. I trimmed my dad's hair many times.

He smiled. Cut as much as you want, Bree.

Well, what do you want? I'll do whatever you'd like.

He looked at me, something warm coming into his eyes, although he didn't smile. He looked at me seriously, swallowing before he said, I want you to like it. Do whatever you want.

I hesitated, not wanting him to feel like he was doing something he didn't want to do. You sure?

Very, he said, walking into the kitchen and pulling one of the chairs from his kitchen table into the middle of the floor where the hair could be easily swept up.

I went to his bathroom and got a towel and the comb sitting on his sink, and then joined him in the kitchen, wrapping the towel over his shoulders.

I began cutting his hair, focusing on the work of measuring and evening. He had told me I could do what I wanted and so I was going to go short. I wanted to see his face, and I had a vague notion that he used his hair to hide. Was it my job to strip him of that? No. But he had given me permission and so I was going to take it. It would grow back if he wanted it to.

I sat the comb aside and used my fingers to comb through his dark, silky hair before using the scissors. Running my hands through his thick, very slightly wavy strands felt intimate and sensual and my pulse rate rose as I moved my body around his, cutting the back first, and then the front. Each time I ran my hand slowly along his scalp, Archer shivered slightly. I leaned in closely as I worked with his hair, drawing in the scent of his shampoo and his clean smell. He smelled like soap, but just underneath that was the musky scent of his maleness, and it made my tummy clench with desire.

As I moved in front of him, smoothing the hair back from his forehead, I looked down into his face and his eyes met mine right before he closed them tightly. It looked almost as if he was in pain, and my heart clenched. Had anyone since his mother touched him with tenderness?

I continued to work and when I leaned in close to get the hair above his ear, his breath hitched. My eyes darted to his face again. His pupils were dilated slightly and his lips were parted. My nipples hardened under my t-shirt and Archer's eyes moved down, widening when he honed in on my chest. His eyes shot to the side, those red patches appearing on his upper cheekbones, and he fisted his hands which were sitting on his muscular thighs.

I leaned over him to snip more hair, my chest coming in close to his face. I heard his breath hitch and begin to come out faster, little exhalations of air breaking the silence of the kitchen. I glanced down as I leaned back and saw his arousal through his pants, thick and hard.

I quickly moved around behind him, evening his hair some more, and trying to get my own breathing under control. My eyes felt glassy, and I hoped I was doing okay–I couldn't concentrate, wetness pooling between my thighs. I was so turned on I could barely stand–at his nearness, the way it felt to touch him, and the knowledge that I was affecting him too. I'd never gotten aroused this quickly–and from a freaking haircut. But clearly, he was right there with me.

As I moved around to stand in front of him again, I could see he was trembling very slightly.

"There," I whispered. "You're done. It looks really good, Archer." I knelt down in front of him and swallowed hard when I took in the complete look.

I set the scissors down on the counter in back of me and turned back around, kneeling up as high as I could go and moving closer to him, my heart beating loudly in my ears and between my legs. I gazed up at him, glancing quickly at his mouth. His eyes darted quickly to my lips as well. God, I wanted him to kiss me so badly I ached.

He stared down at me and swallowed thickly, his adam's apple moving in his throat and his scar pulling upwards. As we stared at each other, uncertainty moved across his face, and he balled his fists more tightly on his thighs.

Suddenly, he scooted the chair back and stood up and, shocked, so did I.

You need to go now, he said.

Go? I asked. Why, Archer, I'm sorry, did I– He shook his head. I could see his pulse beating in his neck. No, nothing, I just… have things to do. You should go. He was breathing harshly as if he'd just run five miles. In all the times I'd watched Archer do physical labor, I'd never seen him become breathless from it. He looked pleadingly at me.

"Okay," I whispered, color moving up my face. "Okay."

I gathered my scissors and walked to the main room to put them in my purse. I turned to Archer.

Are you sure? I didn't– Yes, please, yes, he said.