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Turning off the clippers, I kneel down in front of her. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, pretty girl.”
My thumbs caress her cheeks, wiping away tears, and I rub my hands over her gooseflesh-covered arms. When she opens her eyes, her pupils are dilated almost to the point that they cover the entirety of her pale irises. She stares, wide-eyed and unseeing, for a few moments before she comes down, her pupils returning to normal as she blinks away tears.
“I’m sorry.” Her words come out breathlessly. “I don’t know what that was about. The sound freaked me out a little when you turned the clippers on, but as soon as they touched my head, it was like I was somewhere else.”
“What did you see?” Could she be remembering something?
She shakes her head. “Nothing really, it was cold and bright, and the sound of the clippers was the same.” She shuts her eyes against the memory. “And I felt fear.”
I pull her forehead against mine. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”
Six scoffs. “Here I was talking a big game about doing what it takes to get my memory back, and a haircut turns me into a cowering puddle. God, I’m pathetic.” She sniffs and wipes her nose with a corner of the towel.
“Crying isn’t weakness, Six. If anything, it’s proof of how much you’ve been through, and how strong you’ve had to be. Emotions are what make us human. Hiding them is easy. Letting them out and facing them head-on is where the real power is.”
She sniffs a bit more, but steels herself. “I’m ready, we can finish this.”
I gaze into her eyes, marveling at this woman and her ability to keep moving after everything that’s happened to her. To face her fear head-on, seeking out answers, knowing it will likely be painful. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met.
“We’re almost done with the clippers.”
I even out the shaved area and trim her ends a bit, arranging her hair to the best of my ability. I move out of her way and let her see the finished product.
I’m pretty proud of myself. A professional would have absolutely done better, but I think I managed to do a pretty good job. Her hair is swooped over in a deep side part to show off the shaved side, the rest of her pale blonde hair tumbling in loose waves over her shoulder. The scar is visible, but there is no longer a random bald spot. And instead of looking like she just had brain surgery, she looks edgy and sexy.
When she meets my eyes in the mirror and mouths “Thank You”, I can tell she truly likes it. Her eyes are glassy and she’s looking at herself without cringing for the first time. I want her to see herself as the beautiful, sexy, strong woman I see. And I know it’s corny, but it makes me all fluttery in the pit of my stomach that I was able to do this for her.
Removing the towel from her shoulders, I turn her around so I can look at her straight on.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I press little kisses all over her face, her jaw, her neck. When my mouth reaches hers, our kiss is deep and passionate. I lose myself in it, picking her up and setting her on the bathroom counter, pressing myself between her thighs. Her hands slide up my abdomen, under my shirt, lifting it up to my neck until I take the hint and pull it over my head.
She runs her hands and mouth all over my torso, tracing the lines of my ink with her tongue and the tips of her fingers. My heart thunders like a caged beast. My body trembles, but I do my best to stay still and let her explore, trying to keep myself from losing my cool and ravaging her. When I think I have enough control, I massage her thighs, pulling her closer to me, bending down to kiss her neck.
I’m about to help her remove her shirt and give her a tongue bath when I hear a call from the hallway. We freeze, hearing a knock at my door.
“Six? Luis? You guys in there?!” It’s Micah, they must be back with the evidence package already.
I’d much rather kiss and touch her until her eyes roll back in her head and she comes apart again. Last night I apologized to her, worried I had taken advantage. My apology upset her, and she spent most of the day avoiding me. I was hoping to atone for my mistake…
I groan against her mouth. Seems we’ve made up now though. Maybe it’s for the best, I keep losing control.
She lets out a frustrated sound, like a kitten growling. Did I say that out loud? I can’t help but chuckle at her reaction, amused at her impatience.
Her teeth sink into my pec, and I hiss out a breath. She bit me!
It fucking hurts, but it also sends a jolt right through me, directly to my already hard dick. My erection swells past the point of discomfort, straining my jeans. I’m not laughing anymore.
My response is instant and thoughtless. My answering growl comes out low and menacing as I grab her chin with one hand, pressing the back of her head into the mirror. My other hand tightens on her hip. Pulling her hard against me, I roughly grind my erection right where I know she’ll feel it the most. As I press into her, I bend down and take one of her hardened nipples between my teeth, biting down enough to be painful.
The sound she makes and the way her body twitches beneath mine is enough to make me come apart at the seams. I hold her there for one second, two, three… Breathing deeply to get control of myself before I either cum in my pants or strip them off and impale her right now.
Slowly, I pull myself away, standing her up and adjusting her clothes for her. She licks the little wound she made, and I suck in a breath, giving her a warning look.
“Watch it, little girl,” I growl, pinching the damp fabric where I bit her through her t-shirt.
She bites her lip, her chest rising as she catches her breath. I push her out of the bathroom towards the door- if she doesn’t get out now, she never will. I throw my shirt back on as she steps out into the hallway, taking a moment to adjust myself as I hear Micah appreciating my handiwork.
