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I clench my fist at the urge to fuck her against the wall and take the basket from her. “Now what?”
“You’ve never done this?”
“Do I look like someone who dyes other people’s hair?”
She chuckles. “No. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this. Don’t make me look bad.”
“You could never look bad.”
“Stop it. I’m serious.” She’s laughing for real now, and it seeps into my chest, wrapping itself around my heart. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her laughing like this.
Stepping forward, I crowd her back into the bathroom. “Haven’t you realized? I’m very good at what I do.”
She just smirks at me. “We’ll see.”
Chapter 33
Misty
Even through the robe, heat burrows into my spine when Damon’s chest brushes against me. My fingers curl around the edge of the vanity, and I lean my hips further into it for support as I watch him in the mirror. At first, I thought it was sweet he was willing to color my hair, but now I’m wondering if it’s not some form of cruel torture.
The weight of his presence towers over me as he meticulously lifts a strand of my hair and lathers it in lavender lotion. His finger grazes my ear, sending tingles down my neck, and I brace myself to stop my reaction from showing.
Damon’s brows are drawn together as he works his way through each piece, taking care to coat it evenly before moving on to the next. Warmth curls in my stomach as I watch him. There’s something adorable about how hard he’s concentrating.
“Missed a spot,” I tease.
There’s a quirk to his lips, but he doesn’t look away from his task. “No, I didn’t.”
“You know, you’re pretty good at this.”
He grips the back of my nape and twists my head down and to the side until I can’t see him anymore. “Did you have any doubts?”
I wipe a drop of purple from the white ceramic sink and rinse it down the drain. “Uh, yeah. I’ll be honest, this isn’t a skill I expected you to have practiced.”
“You’d be surprised at all the things I’m good at.”
I let out a small moan when his thumb presses into the base of my nape, releasing tension that had been building there.
Finished, he pulls off his gloves, tosses them into the garbage, and leans into me. Lips press into the base of my neck, and his breath brushes against me, heating me to my core. With each moment, the space around us loses focus as my body hones in on him. The scratch of his stubble, the heat of his hands, the scent of sweet smoke that clings to him.
Each of his breaths draws me nearer until he’s all I see, know, feel. Until he’s captured every molecule of my attention with one simple touch of his lips.
“Now what?”
“Wait twenty-five minutes, then rinse.” I turn to face him, and a laugh bursts from my chest. There’s a smear of purple over his brow from when he kissed me. “Oh my God.”
One dark brow raises in question, and his lips twist into a grin. “What?”
“You’ve got…you’ve got dye on you.” I reach back, grabbing the wet cloth I’d been using to keep the color from staining my own face, and wipe it off.
“You don’t think I’d look good in purple?” he asks, low, playfully.
“I think you’d look good in anything, but I’m not sure even you can pull off a blurred smudge on your forehead.”
Damon leaves the room to toss a few things out while I pull my trusty plastic cap over my hair to stop it from making a mess and start tidying up the counter.
“Here.” Damon holds out a sandwich.
