Page 2 of Good Girl Gone Bad

She began slow, languid strokes on his scalp. His cock strained against his pants, and blood boiled in his temples. She continued the motion, massaging his head, her rubs firm and deep. His scalp sizzled with awareness, the sensation shooting down his body and searing every cell in its path. When heat coiled low in the pit of his stomach, his hard-on reached a painful level.

He suppressed a groan. Dio. He should stop this game, surge to his feet, and tell her who he was and what he’d do to her—but he knew when he told her, she’d hate him. Selfishly, he needed her hands on him for a bit longer. Never had a woman evoked such erotic reactions from him so quickly, with his clothes still on and without any intimate touch.

Though, her hands washing his hair then reapplying a creamy conditioner were living proof intimacy didn’t need nakedness. He opened his eyes for a moment, stealing a glance at her. He’d expected her to engage in small talk, but he found her alluring eyes riveted on his. Her lips parted as if she yearned for a lover’s kiss.

His kiss.

She removed the conditioner, her actions robotic and calculated as if she were in some kind of a trance. Damn it.

Pre-cum coated the tip of his cock, and he had never been so grateful for a stylist’s smock. Not that she wouldn’t be able to see his hard-on if she glanced down. She grabbed a towel from a shelf behind her and started to dry his hair. Again, her hands on him did a number to his usually remarkable self-control.

“Now I need you back at my station,” she said.

He didn’t miss the note of apprehension in her voice. “My pleasure,” he said, following her lead. At first, the salon hadn’t seemed so minuscule, and now the walls seemed to close in on him as he sat down.

She stood behind him, smoothing her apron more than once. “What do you want?” she asked.

Smiling inwardly, he doubted she was talking about the cut. “I want you.”

…

Lily stood motionless, her feet pinned to the spot like the roots of a decades-old tree. She didn’t dare yank her gaze from the mirror where the reflection of that marvelous specimen of a man stared at her, challenging her with every passing nanosecond.

What the hell was going on? She’d been on a dry spell for months, not interested in dating. Not that her busy schedule left much time for anything else but work—after she’d returned to the salon, she’d tried finding new clients. She’d gone to trade shows, taking workshops. All had gone well until a big salon franchise had opened across the street, and just like that, her hard work had turned into dust.

And now her body was a hot mess. Strands of heat charged within her, bolting down until it reached the wet place between her legs. Yep. Her clit throbbed in anticipation, as it had from the first moment she laid her eyes on this man. The man…who certainly wasn’t the guy her friend Tony referred to her as a potential client. Tony had told her he’d given her business card to a guy he met at a club. A guy whose name he didn’t remember. She hadn’t asked this hottie’s name, afraid she’d make it awkward for Tony if she admitted he hadn’t remembered the name. What if the two had hooked up? Instead, she’d hoped he would pay with a credit card so she’d discover his name in a more discreet way, without throwing her friend under the bus.

“You’re not gay, are you?” she asked for the sake of asking. She had her share of gay friends and loved every one of them. She could bet there was nothing but dangerous maleness about the object of her desire.

He’d dwarfed her when he’d stood, but now, even sitting, he had the commanding vibe of royalty, of someone who could snap his fingers and fulfill his wishes. Besides needing a trim, his cut was perfect, the chestnut hair falling down on his ear, textured and sexy. She had indulged herself when she washed his hair, and wondered how nice it would be to do the same thing with his body, smoothing lather over his ridiculously broad shoulders and muscly chest just as she’d done with his thick, gorgeous hair.

He gave a hearty laugh. “No.”

Shit. If he’d been gay, her stomach wouldn’t be in knots. He wasn’t the one Tony had said would stop by for a cut. Which meant today she was clientless, another day without making any money. Concern squeezed her heart. The last couple of weeks, her one worry had been how to keep her head above water.

The compliments she’d given him about his height and hot maleness stabbed at her. What if he judged her to be some hairdresser who flirted with every guy just to get a good tip? No. “Oh. I’m sorry… Listen, I was joking around. I thought you were someone who was supposed to come over for a cut. And he’s gay.”

“Are you disappointed I’m not gay, cara?” he said in that deep, exciting, dreamy accent.

She sucked in her breath, bottling her reply and buying some time. Then she shifted her weight from one foot to another, unsure, feeling ten years younger. “No,” she confessed, her throat dry.

A powerful energy passed between them as they stared at each other. Fire brewed at the pit of her belly. God. She was going to die soon if he didn’t kiss her. What was happening? She usually had a five-date rule before she’d even go to second base, and now she stood in front of this stranger, her nipples tightening and her pussy wet.

He swiveled on the chair until he faced her, then pulled her to his lap, and she didn’t resist. She didn’t have it in her to fight this incredible attraction that sent electrifying ripples through her. He positioned her so she straddled him, and when she adjusted, a large rod poked against her. For once, she was thankful for her lack of clients and her empty shop. Heat seeped through the flimsy material of her undewear, and she gasped. When he’d been on the washing station, she made an effort not to look directly at his erection.

Now she couldn’t ignore it.

“Good. I want you nothing but satisfied,” he said, then lifted a finger to her face. The moment his thumb stroked her cheek, a part of her melted like ice cream on the pavement on a torrid summer day.

Blood pounded in her veins. She leaned into his caress, reveling in the warmth of his flesh and the goose bumps it provoked in her own. I deserve this. She’d spent her free time during the past three years taking care of her sick father. She’d seen their assets evaporate to pay for his treatment, then for her mother’s surgery and retirement home costs.

His finger slid down the corner of her mouth, and she smiled. He traced her lips with his fingertip, his gaze transfixed on hers. She didn’t manage to escape the undeniable appeal of his rich chocolate eyes.

His hand slid down, touching her neck, teasing the side of her breast, then he settled at the small of her back. A gentle but firm pressure pulled her closer to him, and soon he shifted on the chair and brought them to a sinful mold.

Her heart throbbed at the base of her throat, and she shut off everything around them. He captured her lips with his, and her world as she knew it collapsed beneath her. She opened her mouth to allow him full access, and he took every single bit of it. His tongue stroked hers with passion and urgency, the kiss growing hungrier than a ten-day fasting diet.

He placed his hand on the back of her neck, his fingers kneading her skin. Any kinks she might have had from moving stuff around her apartment dissolved under the power of his hand. Between kisses, a moan flew from her lips. Her hot stranger and possible potential client took it as encouragement, crushing his mouth on hers again, intensifying the kiss as if breathing became a luxury neither of them could afford.

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