Page 9 of What He Wants

My gaze fell to her ass as I followed her to the chair. As God as my witness, I was going to get a taste of her before I left that salon. Her shy innocence was appealing, sucking me in as if she wielded all the power over my feigned control. I sank down into the chair and she swung me around until I was facing the mirror. The towel was still in my hair. She gave my scalp a few more vigorous rubs and then pulled the cloth away.

And then her gaze rose to mine in the mirror.

“How much do you want me to cut?”

“I like it long.”

“So, a trim then?” I nodded, narrowing my eyes on her until she glanced away.

A grin spread across my face at her reaction to me. Were the same inane thoughts going through her mind, too? Was she wondering why there seemed to be a fierce attraction between us? Was she turned-on? Was her body sensitized and thrumming with unexplained arousal? I closed my eyes when she began to run a comb through my long hair. Was she wet for me? Fuck, I wanted to find out.

“Two inches?”

I almost burst out laughing. She was in for a big fucking surprise. And then my addled brain realized that she was asking me how much hair I wanted her to hack off and not the size of my dick. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

It didn’t take her long. I watched silently as she cut off about two inches, maybe a little bit more. My dirty-blonde hair appeared darker because it was wet. Slick strands fell all around me. Occasionally, she ran her fingers through it like a comb, and fluffed it as if to see how it fell against my head. I’d had plenty of haircuts in my lifetime, but none of them had felt this good or turned me the fuck on. My head was within an inch of being cushioned against her soft tits, and I took advantage of it by leaning further back into her.

She sucked in her breath, but kept cutting. Finally, she asked, “How does this look?”

I didn’t draw my gaze away from hers. “Fucking perfect.” I was talking about the image of my head against her tits and her hands in my hair, her sweet face peering over my shoulder at our image because she was too short to see over my head. I wanted to reach back, pull her around, and set her luscious ass down on my lap. My dick needed some attention. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop looking at me like that,” I growled low, just about at the end of my limit. “Unless you want me to do something about it.”

Her eyes rounded innocently. “I-I don’t know what you mean. How am I looking at you?” She stepped away from me.

I stared at her long and hard, trying to determine if her innocent act was real, or if she was playing me. Some women who wanted to experience a long-haired, leather clad outlaw fromPhantom Riders liked to send off signals that they were scared and innocent, when deep down they were worse than our club whores. Needier and dirtier. What they were looking for was to be taken and dominated by a bad boy. Something about Daisy told me that she didn’t play games. The guarded look in her slightly frightened eyes, the fight or flight aura that surrounded her, told my gut that she was undecided and maybe a little confused about what was happening.

“Like you need something from me.”

She shook her head. “No, we must have our signals crossed, because I don’t need anything from you, or any man.” Her tone was slightly defensive, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as she was me.

Her declaration said a lot. My earlier guess that she’d been hurt had been right, and apparently, it had been at the hands of a man. Anger rose inside me. Was she living with the bastard now? Letting him abuse her like so many women did?

“I don’t think so, baby.” I wasn’t about to let her ruin what was happening between us by bringing a whole new element into the equation. “You’ve been giving off vibes since the first time our eyes locked a few days ago.”

A frown appeared between her pretty eyes. “What kind of vibes?”

A slow as molasses grin spread across my face, and I purposely let my gaze drop leisurely down her body and back up again. Her hardened nipples were pointing right at me, just beggingme to put my mouth on them. The front of my pants was bowed with my massive hard-on, the movement drawing her gaze to it, and then her pretty little mouth opened into a silent O. Fucking hell, all I could think about was that silent O sinking down onto my dick until her lips came to rest against my ball sac.

That is, if she could take all of me.

Her cheeks reddened and her eyes flew up to meet the arousal that I knew was evident in mine. I wasn’t about to try and hide what she was doing to me, to my body. I wanted her to see what was going to claim her, to know that sooner or later she was going to be mine, in every way. If that frightened her, that was just too fucking bad.

If she still lived with the abusive fucker, he was a dead man.

“We’re done,” she surprised me by saying.

That only made me smile wider, and when she put her scissors and comb down and made a move to turn away I reached out and grasped her around the wrist. Her skin was smooth and warm, and her pulse jumped erratically beneath my thumb. “Oh, no we’re not, not by a long shot, baby.” The bastard in me pulled her closer and the soft gasp she let out turned me the fuck on. “I want a shave, too.”

Chapter 5

Daisy

Oh, God, what was happening to me? I was blushing like a virgin with this man, like a blithering, frightened woman who could barely get out two coherent words. Well, I was frightened, but only because of the intense physical attraction I felt for him. I’d been so close to locking him out after I’d noticed him just sitting there on his bike, but I’d hesitated too long. Then I’d struggled with turning away a paying customer.

Yeah, that was why I let him in. If I were honest, I would have admitted that it had nothing to do with him being a customer. God, I didn’t even know the man’s name! And what little I did know about him, judging by his leather, tattoos, and the huge bike outside, told me that I was crazy for getting involved with him. Yet…he got to me. His warm brown eyes, which were usually narrowed and intense on me in a way that made me wet between the legs, seemed to reach out to me on a level that promised me something I hadn’t had with a manever.

The sexual current between us was sizzling, and had been building at a rate too fast for me to keep up with. I knew that he felt it, too. I knew what arousal looked like on a man’s face. What it looked like in his eyes. The raw, primal need stamped on his rugged face made my pussy tingle. What surprised me was that it was directed at me. I hadn’t loaded on makeup or dressed to impress or catch the interest of any man. That was what Jasmine was for. She was blatantly aggressive in what she wanted sexually, and was particularly interested in the local biker club. Having her around had made me feel safe from any unwanted advances.

Except, this man was different.

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