Page 67 of Lucky's Trouble

“I take it you won’t be changing then?” I call after her retreating form, hypnotized by her swaying hips.

“Nope.” She throws a middle finger up over her shoulder.

I shake my head, grinning like a loon. “Gonna grab a shower, then we can head over.”

“Okay.”

After washing up, I step onto the tiled floor and wrap a towel around my waist when I hear a knock at the door. I open it, and Tinleigh steps in, hiding something behind her back.

“What’s up?”

“What do you usually do when you get out of the shower?”

“Come again?” I ask.

“You just got out of the shower, what do you do next?”

I furrow my brows. “I run a brush through my hair, slap on some deodorant, and finger comb my beard. Now and then, I take some scissors to my mustache so it doesn’t curl into my mouth.”

“Can I try something?”

“Like what? I’m not into the whole manscaping thing if that’s what you’re getting at. Don’t got time or energy for that shit.”

“Just give me five minutes.”

I sigh, but it’s all for show since I’d do anything for her. An image of her curling my hair and shaving my balls flashes through my mind. Okay, almost anything.

“Do your worst,” I say.

“Yay!” She pulls a small fabric bag out from behind her back and lifts herself onto the small vanity. “I won’t do anything crazy. Just a little grooming because, babe, you look like you just stumbled out of the wilderness after being lost for a good five years.”

I scowl. “I thought you liked how I look.”

“I think I’ve more than proven I’m attracted to you.” She wraps her arms around my neck, drawing me in for a sweet kiss. “But I think I kicked up a pigeon last night after you begged me to scratch your chin.”

“You did not.”

“Just hold still.” She digs through the bag, producing a jar and a small pair of scissors. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

I settle between her legs, rubbing up and down her thighs as she works. She’s fucking adorable as she concentrates on trimming my overgrown beard, snipping away with one hand, and catching the clippings with her other.

“Don’t take too much off,” I say, mostly just to tease her.

“I could take a weed whacker to this thing and still not take too much off.”

I cackle, earning me a pointed look. Straightening, I go back to watching her work. But when she scoops some cream out of the jar, I pull away.

“What is that shit?”

“Just a little pomade to give it some hold.”

“Goddamn,” I curse, but allow her to work the citrus-smelling shit through my beard.

Her fingers tug and twist at strands until she’s finally satisfied. “There!”

“All right. Let me take a look.” I step to the left and am a little taken aback at how much better it looks.

“So? What do you think?” Her smile is blinding.

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