Page 87 of Save Me

“What?”

“You need to wash your hair.” He glances over at the massive bowl sink. “We could do it in the sink, but I think it’ll be more comfortable for you if we do it in the shower.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t understand,” I protest as he starts to lift my shirt and undress me himself. “I use specific products that I get delivered to my place because my hair is picky, and I have …”

The words die on my lips when he leads me to the bathroom closet and pulls it open. There’s an array of products, all organized by brand, specific use, and smallest to largest. What surprises me the most, however, isn’t the amount of products he has.

It’s that he has the exact brand of shampoo, conditioner, and leave-in conditioner that I use.

“A sensitive scalp,” I finally finish, reading the label on the bottled shampoo, which says, ‘formulated for sensitive scalps.’

He doesn’t say anything as he undresses himself. My eyes drop to his massive cock. I swallow. Even when it’s not fully erect, it’s damn impressive.

“Eyes on me, little warrior. We’ll get to that part later.”

I push through the lustful thoughts that began taking root in my mind and attempt to protest again.

“Listen, washing my hair is somewhat of a chore,” I tell him. “It can—”

“Sit,” he orders, taking the shampoo and conditioner from me.

My knees bend, and my butt plants on the bench as if my body listens to him before it does me. Dae takes the removable shower head down, and I watch as he adjusts the temperature of the water.

“Let me know if this is too hot.”

The spray of warm water on my hair and scalp feels divine. What is heavenly, though, is when Dae’s strong hand makes its way to my hair. His fingers massage my scalp, pulling a groan from me.

I marvel at the expression on his handsome face. It’s so intense and focused. I don’t even think of asking how he knows to separate my long strands into quadrants and shampoo and condition each part separately.

Though I don’t want to miss a moment of watching him, my eyelids drift closed as he massages my scalp. He takes special care in shampooing, rinsing, and applying conditioner one section at a time. That should be enough to undo me.

He even uses the slipperiness of the conditioner and his fingers to gently detangle my hair. Once he thoroughly detangles one quadrant of hair, he twists it and puts it in a bantu knot before moving on to the next section of hair.

I don’t have to give him directions to wash and condition my hair correctly. I’m amazed and utterly satiated, and despite our nakedness, he hasn’t touched any part of my body except for my scalp.

I never knew my scalp was an erogenous zone.

Not before Dae.

“Time to rinse the conditioner out,” he says, interrupting the long, lingering silence. A silence filled by Dae stealing yet another piece of my heart.

“How did you know to do all of that?” I ask when we enter his bedroom, one of his plush towels wrapped around me.

He has a towel around his waist.

“Did I do it wrong?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

I touch the lavender towel in my hair, which is currently catching the water that lingers in my curls.

“Wrong?” I ask, laughing. “It’s been over a year since I’ve gone to a salon for a wash and style, and you made me think I was back in Sandra’s chair.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Sandra?”

“She’s the stylist I go to because she’s great with everything from natural hair textures to perms, weaves, and wig installations.”

I shake my head because I don’t need to go into detail on this subject.

“It’s as if you work for her or something.” I let out another laugh because he looks relieved at my answer.

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