Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“That makes a ton of sense. It’s not the same, but when I’m fighting through the worst of a depressive episode, I know no one is going to save me. I need to do it all on my own. It’s up to me to find a good enough reason to get my ass up and tackle my day.”
I could feel his breathing intensify, small puffs of air against my cheek.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, it was everything right. Different circumstances, but yeah, totally right on.”
It grew quiet in the room as he continued cutting my hair.
“How’s it coming along?” I asked after another minute.
“I think I’ve got the hang of it again.”
“Like riding a bike?”
He snickered. “Yeah, maybe. My hand aches a little, but I’m steadier than I thought I’d be.”
I squinted an eye open. “I knew you could do it.”
There was that smile again.
He grew serious as the comb brushed through my bangs. “Okay, now I need you to stay still.”
I shut my lids so I didn’t overwhelm him. “Will do.”
He leaned closer, and I could feel his breath against my lips, and fuck, that did things to me. He smelled minty and earthy and I liked that combination. Or maybe I just liked him.
He moved around to the back of the chair as my stomach trembled. His fingertips against my nape made me shiver, and when he came around front again, I shifted uncomfortably, knowing I was sporting a semi. It had been a while since I’d been intimate, and I was obviously attracted to him, but damn, it was embarrassing. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to will the fucker down.
His voice was rough when he said, “That should do it. Wanna see how it looks?”
“I do.” I stood before he could take a step back, and we ended up so close, our chests brushed. “Uh, sorry.”
His cheeks were flushed, so maybe he was having the same problem? Or maybe I was making him uncomfortable, and I didn’t want that.
He motioned to the hallway. “You first.”
He followed me to the bathroom, where I clicked on the light and glanced in the mirror. “Nice. I like it.”
“Yeah?” he asked over my shoulder.
“Better than some cuts I’ve gotten over the years.”
He averted his gaze. “Okay, you’re just being nice.”
I waited until his eyes met mine in the mirror again. “I’m not.”
“Thanks,” he murmured as his fingers trailed over my nape. “I probably need to touch up your neck.”
“Clippers or a razor? I have both.”
“Either works.” Our eyes held for far too long. “Uh, you grab whatever, and I’ll see to the mess we left out there.”
“Sounds good.”
I watched him through the mirror as he backed out the door. And lo and behold, he was thick behind his zipper too. That was gratifying, at least. To know it wasn’t only me. And what was the harm? We were both single.
Okay, it was more complicated than that.
I fiddled with my hair in the mirror as I asked myself what the hell I was doing.
By the time I came out with a razor, shaving cream, and a bowl of water, he had most of the hair on the floor cleaned up. “Want me in the chair again?”
When he nodded, I sat down. He lathered my neck and began shaving with smooth, careful passes.
“Want me to shave anything else?” he asked, and my eyes sprang to his. “Like, your face?”
Christ, I needed to get my overactive imagination under control. Of course he meant my face. “I’d like that.”
He lathered my jaw, tilted my head back, and began shaving. “I haven’t done this in ages, not since I worked in a barbershop.”
This time I kept my eyes open and on him, watching him as he worked.
He held my gaze after every pass of the razor, his breath catching one of the times. I was stiff as a fence post and couldn’t do anything about it. Not in this precarious position, at least.
“I’d tell you that you’re free to shave too, but you said your beard keeps you warm.”
“Yeah, maybe in the summer, when it gets too hot.”
Damn, did he think he’d still be out there? I opened my mouth, then promptly closed it. He didn’t want to be saved. This haircut was a trade deal.
“All done,” he said, and when he stepped back, I tried to curb my disappointment that it was over.
He began cleaning up while I stored the supplies. After I tossed the towels in the wash, I found him waiting by the door. But what did I expect? For him to stay the night again?
“You sure I can’t get you anyth—”
He spun the bracelets on his wrist. “It’s probably best I take off.”
“Okay.” There was wariness in his gaze, so I wouldn’t push it. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” His mouth tilted in a smile. “That felt good.”