Page 68 of Fangirl Down

“Much.” She scooped her phone off the bed, tapped the screen, and held it out, so Wells could see the dots sloping downward, her number beginning to come down: 267. Still high, but going in the right direction. “It’ll keep going down now that I’ve given it a kickstart.”

“I’m glad, baby.”

All right. That just... slipped right out.

They stared at each other for a few heavy moments, before heading for the bathroom at the same time, pausing in the doorway to search each other for objections, then going in together. Slowly. Wells pulled his shirt back on and replaced his hat while Josephine began another attempt at a ponytail.

“You know, it looks the exact same every time you do it.”

She hummed. “To the untrained male eye, maybe.”

“Give me a go.”

She paused in the act of gathering her hair, revealing that very edible neck. “You want to do my ponytail?”

“I want to do a lot of things to your ponytail.”

“What?Gross.”

Smooth, guy.“That didn’t come out the way I meant it to.” He moved to stand behind her, shaking out his hands. “I’m nervous about my first hair gig.”

“Seriously. I’ve seen you less nervous about a twenty-yard putt.”

Wells took the brush in his right hand and started pulling it through her auburn strands. At some point, he knew he needed to begin forming the tail, but holy shit, this was soothing. “How do women get anything done? I’m not exaggerating when I say I could do this for hours.”

“Throw in that ponytail comment and I think we’re working with a fetish here, Whitaker.”

Considering how it started, this morning was turning into the most fun he’d had in a really long time. Maybe even his entire life. Just being around her was... eighty experiences rolled into one. Relaxing, arousing, comfortable, arousing. Fun and interesting and right. And arousing. Was it a weird time to mention that he’d like to take a bite out of her neck? In fact, he was dying to untie her robe and look at her naked in the bathroom mirror, but now wasn’t the right moment. Not when she’d woken up feeling shitty.

“All right, here goes.”

Biting down on his bottom lip enough to draw blood, he usedthe brush to sort of urge sections of hair into his fist. When he was satisfied he’d gotten them all, he panicked, because he had no way to keep them in this perfect formation—

She held a black rubber band above her shoulder. “Here.”

“Thank Christ.” He blew out a breath. “This part is stressful.”

“I know!”

“There are bumps no matter what I do,” he growled, wrapping the band, twisting, wrapping again, feeling like he was using someone else’s hands.

“Yup. They look like shark fins.”

A laugh bounded out of him. “Oh my God, Josephine, that’s exactly what they look like.”

Their gazes locked in the mirror and his heart whipped around like a car doing donuts. “You feel better, belle?”

“Yeah.” She turned her head slightly and kissed the inside of his wrist. “Thanks, Wells.”

No. He should be the one thankingher, right? She’d already started transforming him into a better golfer, but allowing him to help this morning? With something so personal and important to her? Fuck. That made him feel like a human. A human worth his salt.

Her faith sat welcome and heavy on his chest. And he wanted more of it.

Not knowing what to say, Wells leaned down and kissed the side of her neck, breathing through the need to do more. Touch her everywhere. His eyes closed on a rough exhale when she pushed her butt back into his lap. He gripped her hips and—

His phone rang in his pocket.

No.Noooooooo.

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