The look in his eyes seems to say,“I see you. I see those broken pieces. Give them to me. Let me put them back together.”
I quickly drop my eyes, unable to handle the intensity even a second longer.
Before I start, I look up some photos of the style I’m thinking of.
Taking a deep breath, I part his hair in the middle and get to work. It’s nearly shoulder length now and as much as I love his more rugged, slightly lumberjack look he has going on, it’ll be nice to see my Fisher again.
“You’re very focused,” he says when I step in front of him.
“I want this to be good.”
Surprise jolts through me when he wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs and pulls me closer.
I look down at him, finding his eyes at half-mast and his lips parted slightly.
“What are you doing?”
His thumbs massage at my skin, exposed to his bare hands by the short dress I’m wearing.
“Sorry,” he says, but makes no move to take his hands off me. “I can’t seem to not be touching you.”
I wet my lips with my tongue, and his eyes track the movement. A low growl rumbles in his throat. My fingers freeze in his hair, and I happen to look down.
“Oh, god,” I gasp at the sight of his erection. My core clenches at the memory of him inside me in Vegas. How fucking good it felt. Howrightit was.
“Ebba,” he whimpers my name. Fuckingwhimpersit. I almost beg him repeat it so I can replay it over and over again.
A breath stutters out of me when he pulls me down into his lap. A moan slips past my lips. His erection is thick and hard and with the skirt of my dress shoved up my thighs it presses him right against my sensitive core and my panties aren’t doing a good job of providing any sort of shield.
He takes the scissors from my hand and leans over to place them on the counter, wrapping one arm around my back in the process.
When he settles back against the chair, he reaches up with his free hand to cup my cheek.
What is happening?I scream internally.I should stop this right now.
I should. But I don’t want to.
His thumb strokes gently against my cheek. “Please, tell me I can kiss you?”
I wet my lips again. I worry this might be becoming a nervous habit.
“Ebba?” he prompts softly, taking the hand that’s on my cheek and gliding it down to the back of my neck. “Please?”
I can’t find words. My ability to speak has apparently left me entirely. So, I nod instead.
“Thank fuck.”
His mouth is on mine an instant later. I’m helpless to stop the small moan that leaves me. My whole body practically melts into him. The kiss is mind blowing. No other guy has ever kissed me the way Fisher does. It’s an all-consuming and soul stealing kind of kiss.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing small kisses down the column of my neck before coming back to claim my mouth. “So fucking beautiful it hurts,” he adds, when his lips find my ear.
My hips rock against him seeking more friction as my fingers delve into the now shorter strands of his hair.
“Can you come like this?” he asks, voice breathless and ragged.
My small moan is my only answer, and I feel him smile against my mouth.
His warm hands find my hips, guiding the roll of them against his erection. “Just like that,” he encourages.