Page 32 of The Billionaire's Bride
He stills, then drags his fingers down my hair. His fingertips catch on a knot at the ends and he carefully untangles it.
"Do you have a brush?"
"What?"
"A hairbrush."
I tip up my chin, "If you don’t want to answer the question—"
He places his finger on my lips. "A hair brush," he repeats. "Do you have one?"
I scowl, but damn, I am so relaxed right now, I don’t want to fight with him. "On my dressing table," I murmur.
He steps back, only to wind his fingers around my wrist. He tugs and I follow him to the bedroom. He leads me to the dressing table, urging me onto the stool in front of the mirror, then reaches for the brush. He starts near the tips of my hair and patiently unravels the knots. Brushing a few centimeters more every time, he gradually works his way up to finally have the full sweep from scalp to tip.
I lower my chin, close my eyes and enjoy his soothing strokes. For a few seconds, there’s only the steady rustle of the teeth of the brush through my strands. The sound of my breathing, the heat of his body, the slide of the fabric of his pants against the edge of my seat.
Then, "I don’t miss wearing the robes." His voice rumbles and he draws the brush down another portion of my hair. "I don’t miss the discipline and the routine, something I thought I would." His voice is pensive. I try to turn my head but he clicks his tongue. "Stay still," he scolds and I turn to face forward, watching his face in the mirror.
"But you do miss some parts of it, surely?"
"I miss…" His voice lowers to a hush, "Helping people, I suppose."
Of course, he would. He may be an alphahole, but that is just a part of him… Just as much as that something inside of him, that wants to do something for the greater good. Perhaps it’s that core of him I had sensed, which had been as attractive to me as the strength of his presence?
"You could still do that, you know?" I survey his reflection in the mirror. "You could still help others."
"I am not sure if that’s what I want to do…now."
"What do you want to do then?"
"I want to do…you?" He raises his gaze to meet mine. The look in his eyes… OMG, it’s hot and smoldering and so bloody intense. That’s the thing with Edward. Nothing about him is ever half-way. It’s like he always gives one-hundred percent—no one-thousand percent—of himself to everything he does. His amber eyes flare with that inner fire I recognize and I have missed. I may not have known him for very long, but the time I have is imprinted inside of me. How could someone have had such an impact on my life in so little time?
"Ed…" I whisper and his lips twist. That smirk? Jesus, it’s so hot. And so mean. Why is it that I am always attracted to the bad boy? Not once, but twice over? Clearly, I have a type. And clearly, this type of thinking is not getting me anywhere.
"Ed, please don’t," I plead.
"I’m not doing anything." He turns back to the task of grooming my hair. The rasp of the brush against my scalp makes goosebumps erupt on my skin.
"Ed, please." I pull away, rise to my feet, then pivot to face him. "It’s not fair," I protest, "what you’re doing to me."
"What am I doing to you?"
"You know exactly what." I scowl. "You’re trying to seduce me."
"No, I am not."
"Yes, you are." I fold my arms round my waist. "You know, I am not going to sleep with either of you."
"But you’re okay to kiss him, you’re okay to rub yourself up against my thigh and come, you’re okay to—"
"That’s not fair," I burst out. "You begged me to kiss you."
"And you fell for it?" He raises an eyebrow and anger sparks at my nerve endings.
"You…you bastard."
"If you couldn’t pass this test, I wonder what else you’ve been up to with him."
