Page 27 of Reclaimed

“Have you ever done this before?”

A peek over my shoulder reveals him holding his chin in one hand and regarding his supplies.

“Of course. Who hasn’t? Pick your color,” he hastily moves passed the subject.

“Black is out. I don’t want to be too dark. You should have grabbed something fun like pink or purple.”

“I didn’t know if you’d take to the idea, even less if I showed up with the entire rainbow of colors.”

“If this perv is stalking blondes, give me literally any other hair color on the planet.”

“I can go back to the store if you’d like.”

A tiny smile plays on my lips as I shake my head. “I’m teasing you, Powell.” I lean forward and swipe the red box off the table. “This is out. Too close to Juniper’s color.”

“Brunette it is.”

The color on the box calls it light brown, but it’s darker than the cool brown beside it. The other is too similar to a dirty blonde for comfort.

The plastic gloves from the box crinkle as Aiden slips them on his hands. “Good enough,” he mutters, reaching for the hairbrush.

My laugh serenades us. “Those look a little small.”

He scrapes the bristles gently against my scalp. “You know what they say about hand size.”

“Mm.” I close my eyes as the rhythmic tugging lulls me. “I think they say that about feet.”

“Got big ones of those too.”

He has a big something else that I felt between my thighs, but I keep that comment to myself. That once-in-a-lifetime memory is going to stay locked up tight.

He parts my hair with a thick fingertip and clips half of it with a bag clip. The heat of him leaves my back and I crack open my eyes to find him crouching beside me. His tongue peeks out between his teeth as he carefully pours the color into the developer. Noticing me staring, he winks and covers the tip to shake the bottle.

“You sure about this? I know it’s impulsive, so if you need a minute—”

“This entire thing is impulsive. Half an hour ago you showed up on my doorstep telling me to date you. It’s temporary dyeand a fake relationship. I’m sure I can manage. Now if you start picking out rings next week, I might have to put my foot down.”

I don’t miss the way Aiden’s eyes drop to my hand or the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip before he rasps, “Yeah.”

A second later, the heat is gone, replaced with a distant air.

“Our relationship might last as long as this dye job, so I hope you’re ready for me.”

Ready for Aiden Powell to invade my life? Not a chance.

The man proves in minutes that he does, in fact, know what he’s doing with those hands. He works section by section, coating each patch thoroughly before moving onto the next. The gentle pull erodes the nervous edges until complete relaxation invades my body. My limbs grow heavy and I slump lower in the chair.

“Falling asleep there?”

“Maybe,” I hum. “How can I stay awake when I’m in such capable hands?”

The way he massages the dye into my strands sends a shiver down my spine. I swear I quiver with a mini orgasm, just barely keeping a moan inside my throat.

“Almost done.” He moves around my chair to get to the front, checking my hairline for any missed spots. His thigh brushes against mine. The undivided attention does something to me. I feel more cared for than I’ve ever felt in my entire adult life. His cologne wafts over me, drowning out the scent of dye with something undeniably Aiden. A masculine mixture of citrus and spice, woodsy and warm. Without even trying, I’m transported back to the lap dance beneath the red light.

The upward tug of my hair encourages my heavy eyes open, snapping me free of the memory. Aiden piles the strands in a twist on top of my head.

“Fifteen minutes and we can give you a rinse.” He plucks the gloves from his fingers, tearing them in the process.

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