Page 82 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

“You didn’t,” I assure her. “It’s time for a change.”

“I’ve never cut hair before. Let me call August and see who he recommends in the city.”

I shake my head. “No.” I tug her closer, my hands securely wrapped around her back. “I want you to do it… please,” I add when I sense she might say no.

She gives me a soft smile like she knows how important this is to me. “Okay, I’ll do it, but don’t come complaining to me when you end up with a botched haircut.”

“I’ll show it off with pride because you’ll have been the one who cut it,” I say with a playful smirk.

An hour later, I’m patiently waiting on a bar stool in the kitchen. Several towels are spread out on the ground beneath me, and I’m wearing the barber cape that came with the hair-cutting kit my mom gifted me this past Christmas—a not-so-subtle hint if there ever was one. I’ve used the scissors to trim my ends, but for the most part, it’s remained stashed away in a cupboard.

Everly leans against the counter, her lip caught between her teeth in deep concentration. She’s watching yet another tutorial on her phone, determined to do her research before she starts.

After several more minutes, she puts her phone away and looks over at me. “Okay, I’m ready. Last chance to back out, Stafford.” There’s a hint of hesitancy in her tone.

“Let’s do this,” I say, glancing over to give her a reassuring smile.

Everly carefully examines the contents of the kit I laid out on the counter.

She picks up the spray bottle and comes to stand in front of me, moving her hand to shield my face. “Close your eyes,” she cautions.

I follow her instructions, and once my entire head is damp, she runs her hands over my hair, smoothing out the strands. When she kneads my scalp in a small, circular motion, a sigh passes my lips. I’m lost in the feel of her touch, the tension melting away like ice under her warm fingertips.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” she says, making me wish the moment could have lasted longer. I wouldn’t mind if she spent the whole day exploring me with her hands.

My gaze briefly meets hers before she turns her attention back to the counter. Her hands tremble as she picks up a pair of scissors and an alligator clip.

I reach out my hand, giving her wrist a reassuring squeeze. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Wait to thank me until I’m finished,” she teases.

“I’m going to like it no matter what,” I promise.

She steps behind me, and then uses the clips to section off my hair. Tentatively, she picks up a strand, taking a deep breath before making the first snip. Her initial hesitation is palpable, but with each cut, her movements grow more fluid, reflecting her growing confidence.

My eyes drift to the growing pile of hair on the ground—a tangible symbol of the cathartic release I’ve put off until now. Each strand that falls makes me feel lighter and freer than I have since before my accident.

I stiffen in my chair when Everly softly blows hair off the nape of my neck, her breath grazing my skin, sending a tingle up my spine. It requires all of my self-control to stop from turning around and fucking her like I’ve wanted to do all morning.

After finishing the back, she steps around to face me, tilting my chin and directing my gaze ahead before starting on the front.

I place my hands on her hips, needing to touch her, but she gives me a warning look before going back to the task at hand.

My eyes drift to her tits. In this position, they’re just inches from my face, and her rosebud nipples are visible through her sports bra. I hold back a groan when she moves closer, fighting the urge to yank her bra down and put one of her nipples in my mouth.

I allow my hands to wander, sliding down her back toward her ass.

“Stafford,” Everly warns with a gasp. “Do you want me to mess up?”

“You won’t.”

“You should keep your hands to yourself just to be sure.”

“I can’t,” I admit, giving her ass a squeeze to prove my point.

Her breath hitches, but she keeps her eyes on my hair as she cuts. I occupy myself by tormenting her as I run a hand along the outside of her legs, following the curve of her hip. Goosebumps spread across her skin. I occasionally lean forward to kiss the swells of her breasts peeking out from her bra. When it comes to Everly, I have no control.

Just as I begin to inch my hand up her thigh, she steps back.

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