Page 46 of Caught from Behind

Which is a terrifying thought, but before panic can make me do something stupid, Kit jerks into motion, breaking the quiet that’s fallen. “Can I…um…help you?”

The last comes out in a squeak.

A squeak that jars me into motion.

I set down my scissors, turn fully toward the front desk, eyes glued to Riggs as he moves forward, limbs loose, demeanor completely confident and relaxed. He plunks his elbows on the high counter. “I’m looking for a haircut,” he tells Kit, eyes flicking to mine and holding for a heartbeat before returning to Kit’s. “Can you help me with that?”

“I-uh—” Kit starts typing on the computer but doing it so frantically that he knocks the wireless keyboard to the floor.

Luckily, he has a rubber mat where he stands, so I don’t think it’s damaged as I walk over and put him out of his misery, sweeping it up, setting it back on the shelf. “I’ll help Riggs, honey,” I say softly, setting my hand on Kit’s back.

He nods as he turns to me, not saying anything until he’s fully facing me.

Then he mouths, “This is Riggs?”

And, yeah, I don’t miss the sparkle in Kit’s eyes…nor the determination—and I know that I’m going to be required to give a full report at the soonest opportunity.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter under my breath before I nudge him to the side with my hip, tapping away at the keyboard and deliberately making my tone no-nonsense and business-like.

Even though, inside, I’m melting.

Riggs is here. Here.

“Hmm,” I tell him, heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to claw up the back of my throat. “My schedule’s pretty full.” I begin tapping again, shaking my head before looking up at Riggs with a sad expression that I can barely keep in place because of the mirth gathering in my belly. “Maybe—” More tapping and then I sigh. “Nope.” I tsk. “That won’t work.”

Kit is practically vibrating next to me, and I don’t know if it’s with laughter—because I haven’t so much as bothered to bring up my schedule—or because my tapping on the keyboard means that I might mess something up in the intricate system he uses to run the salon.

I don’t get the chance to find out.

Orto mess anything up.

Because Riggs leans across the counter, one big hand settling on mine.

My eyes fly up, lock with his, breath hitching.

“I’ll pay double.”

And I know that he doesn’t mean with money.

My pussy clenches, knees wobbling, but I just lift my chin, not quite sure why I’m playing this game, but also loving it, loving that Riggs is playing along, loving the sensual retribution in his eyes.

Wanting him to knock the computer to the floor, to lift me up on the counter and fuck me senseless.

Wanting the salon to be empty so he can do that.

Wanting…

Him.

Just him.

“Here you go, honey,” Donna says, coming up behind me and jarring me out of my sexual stupor. She passes me a couple of bills, and I mutely take them before she pats me on the cheek. “See you next week.” Then turns to Riggs, her stare slow and assessing before her gaze flicks back to mine, her eyes sparkling. She lifts the container of cookies toward him. “Want a taste?”

Slowly, he smiles.

But he’s not looking at Donna as he reaches forward and takes a cookie, and he’s not directing his rasped-out words to her either.

Nope.

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