Page 70 of Ink Deep Devotion
I watch her fingers move. What would it feel like to have my fingers buried in her hair?
“You need help?” I try to make it sound like a joke, but my voice is a level too deep.
She pauses, hands tangled in her hair.“Are you good at tying things up?” A second too late, she realizes the hidden insinuation. The flush that stains her cheeks is mouth-watering.
“I have to warn you,” she shifts her weight from foot to foot,“my hair has a mind of its own. She’s difficult to tame.”
Are you?
“I’m not scared of a challenge.”
Her brow tugs higher.“Do you know how to use a flat iron? Because I can never fix the back.”
“Um…” What does that mean?“Like a flat iron steak?”
She doubles over with sweet laughter, that has my knees shaking.
I want to jump over this counter and kiss her, lick every inch of her body. Hear her laugh and weep moans of pleasure.
I want to hear her sing for me.
I grab the stool and force myself to sit down so I don’t do something foolish.
“Steak!” She bites her lip and looks at me.“You’re such a dude. I’m talking about a flat iron for your hair.”
“I don’t know what that is,” I smirk.
“No sisters then?”
“No,” I shake my head.“It’s just me and my cousins, but they likely don’t know what a flat iron is either.”
“You’re so typical.”
I wish.
She nervously fiddles with her apron string now that her hair is fixed.
“Why didn’t you call?”
She chews her cheek as her eyes look left to right.“You’re a bad boy, Damian. I’ve had bad boys—they’re fun, but I don’t need fun.”
“What do you need?” I lean forward on the stool, perching my elbows on the edge of the counter.
With a sigh, she turns, stoops, and grabs a first aid kit from under the counter.“Security.” She slaps down the kit between us.
“I’m great security.” I grin, lying through my teeth.
“Says the man that kills?” She raises a playful brow.
“I was joking.” More lies.
She bats her long lashes.“I know.” She unclips the kit and grabs a bottle of ointment. Pouring sanitizer on her hands, she slowly rubs them together.
“Why are you here, Damian?” She releases a heavy breath as if she were an old leather-bound book with yellowed, tiredpages, mentally preparing herself to be opened and turned again.
Who hurt you? It must have been a bad past relationship that caused her to release such a heavy sigh.
I shrug,“I…I wanted to see you.” I gulp anxiously.
