fruity and delectable, rose to meet him. He kept his eyes on hers in the mirror in front of him and rotated his fingers, gently and deeply. Let me have my way with you, pretty lady. I will treat you right. Her eyes began to lose their doubt, and her body visibly relaxed as he continued his scalp massage. She was wavering. He could see it. Come on, princess…
‘Okay,’ she murmured. Then her full lips lifted into a striking and shy smile. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this, but okay. You can have your way with me.’ She giggled and blushed, and the sound and sight melted Javier’s heart.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, and I can’t believe I said that! Bridget closed her eyes and pretended she was hiding. The silence grew but was not ominous. It was a comfortable silence. Javier was obviously not a man to chatter while he worked, and she found that refreshing. She grew weary of divulging her innermost secrets as one was wont to do in salons and hated feeling obligated to fill her appointments with mindless chatter too.
The hands caressing her locks would make it difficult to form a complete sentence anyhow. And he was caressing her hair. He had the gentlest touch as he separated strands, brushed them, and clipped them atop her head. Every time his fingers brushed the back of her neck, she had to struggle not to visibly tremble or spasm. Maybe I should open my eyes so that these feelings won’t be so…strong. Loss of one sense enhances another, right? So if I open my eyes and see, I can occupy my vision, and the feelings he is evoking in me won’t be so potent… She opened her eyes.
His dark fingers were deftly painting strands of her hair, using a brush coated in a thick, light coloured substance from a bowl. She watched his fingers move the brush from her hair to the bowl and back again, watched him fold aluminum paper around the strands, and pick up his brush again. Every time he completed wrapping the foil, his hands landed on her shoulders briefly before continuing with his task. His touch heated her flesh under the cape and her dress. Her bra was beginning to feel tight, uncomfortable. What she wouldn’t do to tug those annoying straps down off her shoulders. They were getting in the way of his searing touch.
Okay, this visual thing isn’t working.
Someone spoke to Javier. His hands rested on Bridget’s shoulders as he turned to talk to another stylist. She felt the vibration of his voice through his hands, felt their warmth, saw the clean and well-groomed fingernails in the mirror, smelled his cologne. All my senses are consumed by this man.
Too soon, his hands left her. He left her. She watched him take the bowls of hair colour to a room in the back. Now she had to sit and let the colour set, and there was no reason for his hands to be upon her. As she settled down under a hair dryer, Bridget couldn’t help but sigh.
Javier pretended to be flipping through a hair magazine, but really, he was watching Miss Langston. Should I ask her out after we’re done? Is she anti-male or is there hope? She just needs to heal, and I would love to help her with that and show her not all men are bad. I want to show her how gorgeous she is, make her see it. Dare I?
Then he remembered another woman.
No, I can’t. I need to give this other woman a shot, a fair chance. She’s so nice. How could I just forget about her? He felt a hot flame of shame shoot through him. The other woman—it was nothing serious yet, but he liked her. There was the distinct possibility that something would happen. Their talks had been so profound, and they had shared so much with each other. Javier shook his head at himself. His lady confidant deserved his full attention, and he would give it to her.
He would do what he could for Miss Langston today in the salon, but he best not go beyond that. It wouldn’t be fair to her or her. He daren’t.
He waited with impatience for the timer to beep. Then I will be able to touch her
‘Okay,’ she murmured. Then her full lips lifted into a striking and shy smile. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this, but okay. You can have your way with me.’ She giggled and blushed, and the sound and sight melted Javier’s heart.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, and I can’t believe I said that! Bridget closed her eyes and pretended she was hiding. The silence grew but was not ominous. It was a comfortable silence. Javier was obviously not a man to chatter while he worked, and she found that refreshing. She grew weary of divulging her innermost secrets as one was wont to do in salons and hated feeling obligated to fill her appointments with mindless chatter too.
The hands caressing her locks would make it difficult to form a complete sentence anyhow. And he was caressing her hair. He had the gentlest touch as he separated strands, brushed them, and clipped them atop her head. Every time his fingers brushed the back of her neck, she had to struggle not to visibly tremble or spasm. Maybe I should open my eyes so that these feelings won’t be so…strong. Loss of one sense enhances another, right? So if I open my eyes and see, I can occupy my vision, and the feelings he is evoking in me won’t be so potent… She opened her eyes.
His dark fingers were deftly painting strands of her hair, using a brush coated in a thick, light coloured substance from a bowl. She watched his fingers move the brush from her hair to the bowl and back again, watched him fold aluminum paper around the strands, and pick up his brush again. Every time he completed wrapping the foil, his hands landed on her shoulders briefly before continuing with his task. His touch heated her flesh under the cape and her dress. Her bra was beginning to feel tight, uncomfortable. What she wouldn’t do to tug those annoying straps down off her shoulders. They were getting in the way of his searing touch.
Okay, this visual thing isn’t working.
Someone spoke to Javier. His hands rested on Bridget’s shoulders as he turned to talk to another stylist. She felt the vibration of his voice through his hands, felt their warmth, saw the clean and well-groomed fingernails in the mirror, smelled his cologne. All my senses are consumed by this man.
Too soon, his hands left her. He left her. She watched him take the bowls of hair colour to a room in the back. Now she had to sit and let the colour set, and there was no reason for his hands to be upon her. As she settled down under a hair dryer, Bridget couldn’t help but sigh.
Javier pretended to be flipping through a hair magazine, but really, he was watching Miss Langston. Should I ask her out after we’re done? Is she anti-male or is there hope? She just needs to heal, and I would love to help her with that and show her not all men are bad. I want to show her how gorgeous she is, make her see it. Dare I?
Then he remembered another woman.
No, I can’t. I need to give this other woman a shot, a fair chance. She’s so nice. How could I just forget about her? He felt a hot flame of shame shoot through him. The other woman—it was nothing serious yet, but he liked her. There was the distinct possibility that something would happen. Their talks had been so profound, and they had shared so much with each other. Javier shook his head at himself. His lady confidant deserved his full attention, and he would give it to her.
He would do what he could for Miss Langston today in the salon, but he best not go beyond that. It wouldn’t be fair to her or her. He daren’t.
He waited with impatience for the timer to beep. Then I will be able to touch her
Similar Books
