Page 25 of Time To Live Again

“Hello. My ’stache is waiting to die.” I push out my furry upper lip to encourage attention. “Olive, I trust you, so…get movin’.” I place the clippers in her hand, and she gets down to business.

“Come a little closer,” she says, tugging on my shirt. I slide between her parted legs, placing my hands lightly on her lower thighs.

“This okay?” I ask softly, my gaze trained on hers, praying that it is.

Her fiery gaze travels down my arm to my hand. I give her thigh a gentle squeeze. When she looks up again, her pupils are dilated, and I’m sure mine reflect hers. “Yes,” she responds with a shaky breath. Will we be able to leave this bathroom without mauling each other?

Ignore the twitch in your pants.I force my mind to go blank when she starts trimming, trying to prevent my dick from getting hard. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman. Olive is different because I want more than sex.

She turns off the clippers a few minutes later, wipes the trimmed hair with a damp washcloth, and inspects her work. Nodding in approval, she says, “Not bad. Next step, shaving cream.” I watch her squirt a large blob of it in her hand. More than probably necessary. “Ready? It’s going to be cold.”

“Bring it on. I’m kind of warm anyway.” More like hot.

She nods and cautiously smears the cream over my upper lip. It’s refreshing. When she continues, I keep my eyes on her exquisite face and the glimmer in her eyes. A little crease forms between her eyebrows, and she nibbles on her lower lip in full concentration. Being this close to her, I notice a tiny crescent-shaped mark under her left eye. A scar maybe?

“I love the color of your eyes,” I murmur.

Her hand with the razor pauses. “We have something in common then. I love yours too.” She gives me a stern look. “Now no more talking or moving.”

Ignoring her, I ask, “And they’re not contacts?”

She swirls the razor in the hot water, then shakes it out. “I have my dad’s eyes. It’s my only similarity to him.” I press the part where my lip is bare, and it feels cool. “You’re fiddling,” she says. “Don’t touch. I don’t want to cut you.” I suppress my smile and happily follow her orders like a little dog.

Moments later, she places the razor on the counter and wipes my mouth with a corner of the towel that’s around my shoulders. I wiggle my lip. It feels weird and cold. Naked.

I inspect my face in the mirror over her shoulder until she cups my cheeks and looks me directly in the eyes, all joking set aside.

“Don’t hide yourself behind facial hair again.” The words flow from her lips as she gently swipes my upper lip with her thumb. Did she miss some whipped cream? Oops, I meanshavingcream. My thoughts are in the gutter.

“Why?” My voice is raspy.

Her hands drop from my face, then cover mine, which are still on her thighs. “Because the world deserves to see all of you. So handsome. And when you smile…you take breathtaking to a whole new level.”

Whoa.I’m rendered speechless. Not a simple thing to do. Nobody has ever spoken to me that way. I squeeze her thighs gently again and relish the warmth her words have created in my heart.

I squint. “Is that my fake girlfriend talking, or just you?”

She nods toward the door. “Your fake one is outside smoking a cigarette. I am the only one in this bathroom with you.” The corners of her lips curve upward.

The urge to kiss her is worse than before. Not a fake kiss and not an innocent peck on the lips either. A powerful one where I can taste her on my tongue for hours. I want to hold her voluptuous body in my arms and make fucking sure that no other man compares. It almost happened at the strike of twelve.

I know I’m getting way ahead of myself, but I feel it in my bones. Olive’s special, and for once, I don’t want to walk away. My gut says I need to take it slow, though. There’s something fragile about her. I can’t forget that she came here to deal with some personal issues. Mixing in romance might not be what she wants or needs. I’ll follow her lead. Anyway, I kind of like this push-pull attraction.

I step back reluctantly, giving her space. She slides off the counter and drains the sink. I wipe it down when it’s empty and clean up the counter.

“Good job,” I remark, gently spreading a drop of lotion over the freshly shaven area. “I forgot what my upper lip looked like.”

She pokes my side with her finger. “See what I’m saying? Whole new level.”

I turn my face back and forth in the mirror. “Hmm. Are we talking sexy or more like hot tamale?” I joke with her reflection, moving my hips like Magic Mike would. Chills run up and down my spine. Where the hell did that come from? I haven’t danced since Corey got sick.Mind blown. Shake it off and analyze it later.

“White hot. Smoldering. Ten out of ten,” she flirts, flashing ten with her hands. “You better keep an eye out for Bethany. She might attack you on the dance floor.”

“Only my gorgeous, fake girlfriend is allowed to do that.” I move closer, seducing her with my dance moves.

Olive yelps, then runs out of the bathroom. I zone in on her bouncing, gorgeous ass. Did I mention how much I love her curves? Oh. Yeah. Sorry.

“Really? And what else is a fake girlfriend allowed to do?” she questions over her shoulder, catching me red-handed, admiring her ass.

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