Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“I want you to do it.” Our eyes stay fixed. The glint in his eye is one of understanding and curiosity. I don’t know why I’m asking this of him. It’s not that big of a deal. I can just cut it off myself. But I don’t want to. I want him to cut my hair so I can transition back to myself. “I trust you.”
The confusion disappears, and only empathy colors his eyes. Stroking the length of my hair, he wraps his fingers around the ponytail. “Where do you want me to cut?”
I could let him decide, but this isn’t about him. It’s about me, and what I want, so I reply, “Right above the shoelace.”
“That’s short.”
“Like when we met.”
He smiles, and without any apprehension, he starts cutting. My breath lodges in my throat until the last strands are freed from the thick string. Holding the pony, he looks back at me in the mirror and asks, “What do you think?” His voice holds the same confidence as if he just made a brilliant stock market trade.
As I stare at my hair in the mirror, not one strand comes close to grazing my shoulders, and none falls beneath them. Shaking my head back and forth, I watch as the hair taps my neck, no longer than chin length, and then reach back to rattle my fingers through it. My smile is swift, and the giggle that follows is effervescent as it tickles my throat. “It’s been so long since I had it like this.” I dart my eyes to his, and say, “I love it.”
He slides his arms around my waist and dips his smiling face to my shoulder, planting a kiss on my neck just below the freshly cut hair. “Good. That’s all that matters.”
Reaching my arms around his neck, I hold him there. “Not to me. What do you think?”
“I love it, too. It suits you.”
I turn in his arms and reestablish mine around his neck. “I should have done it years ago. Sometime in the past six years, I lost myself. It feels good to be back.”
“Have I mentioned how good it is to see you again?”
“Must have slipped your mind,” I tease in a whisper.
His hands lower to my hips, then slide to my ass. “I’ve been distracted.” Lifting me, he sets me on the counter with my back against the mirror. “I’ve also been wondering—”
“What have you been wondering?” The sly smile that’s taking up space on his face has me asking.
The width of his palms covers the tops of my thighs, and when one starts sliding the hem of my shirt up, the other moves between my legs. He wedges them apart and takes possession of the available space. “What’s under this T-shirt?” Coming in closer, he kisses me gently and then like he means it.
Spreading my legs, I want to feel him against me, his hands all over my body, and his breath panting against my skin. Our lips part and our tongues meet in a sensuous kiss that is both needy and raw, like our emotions have been. His groan vibrates in my throat, and I cling to him even more, wanting to taste his hunger for me. “There’s only one way to find out.” My breathing is already off kilter, my yearning for him growing at a rapid pace.
He slides me to the edge of the counter against his hardness. I wrap my legs around him just as our bodies weigh backward until my head hits the mirror. He feels so good between my legs, but this strip of fabric and his cotton boxer briefs are going to be the death of me.
Grinding against me, his forehead rests against the mirror. His eyes are closed and his breathing ragged, fogging the glass with each exhale. “Why do you feel so fucking good?” he growls against my neck. He moves to nibble the edge of my jaw, then kisses the corner of my mouth.
I’m pretty sure the question is rhetorical, but since I feel the same about him, I manage to utter, “We’re so good together.” The words were released like a dove from the cage where it had been trapped, free to fly and exist in the universe. We were never meant to be a one-night stand. We were meant to be forever.
“Keats,” I say, unable to hold my desire in any longer. “Touch me.”
He slips a hand under the shirt, his warm hand grazing over my thigh and then between my legs again. This time, a finger slides under the strip of fabric, igniting goose bumps across my skin. The tip of his finger glides through my slit and presses right where I need him. My hips buck in response, as if I don’t control them, he does. Small circles tease before he goes lower to my entrance. Kissing my neck and then my lips, he steals my breath when he pushes in as I exhale. “Mmm,” I hum with our mouths still connected.