Page 65

“Mm.” He slowly rose, holding the dye supplies. “Shame.”

My shoulders hunched up to my ears as I needlessly washed my hands, and my voice was hoarse when I said, “Well, thanks for the help.”

I heard him chuckle as he approached. “That sounds like you’re tryin’ to get rid of me.”

I mean, I was. I didn’t fucking understand why he was here, dyeing my damn hair for me. Why wasn’t he just bringing up what I’d done so he could tease me about it? Why was he drawing it out like this?

Because sooner or later, he was going to make a joke about it. About me admitting to masturbating over him and trying to kiss him. It was Ewen. Of course he was. He went out of his way to piss me off. Usually, anyway. Today he was being nice, and it was just making me even more tense and suspicious.

“I just… figured you have things to do,” I said weakly, then jumped when he appeared by my side. He stood way too close as he placed the brush and mixing bowl in the sink. My arm brushed his bare stomach, and my pulse leaped at the feel of hot, smooth skin.

“Nope. Not going into work today.” He grinned down at me and gestured at my hair. “And I need to stick around to see the finished result, don’t I?”

—

Still so weird.

We carried on watching the movie while the dye sat in my hair. I still wasn’t even aware of what movie he’d picked—I just sat there staring at the moving images without taking anything in.

He’d been here hours now, and I was so tense it felt like I was going to snap in half.

When I eventually went upstairs to wash out the dye, I stayed in my room for a while, blow-drying my hair because I wanted to see what the final colour looked like. How good of a job he’d done.

And damn it, he’d done great. I stared in the mirror at myself, taking in the perfect, uniform dye job. Usually when I did it myself, I ended up with streaks on the back of my head.

It was getting dark when I hesitantly went back downstairs, and as I stepped into the living room, I saw that Ewen had turned on a couple of lamps. My belly clenched at the sight of him sitting there in the low lighting, looking all relaxed and at ease on my couch.

He looked back as I hovered uncertainly in the doorway, and my gut tightened even more when he grinned at me.

“Looks good, kitten. You look real pretty.”

I scowled in reflex, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. I hated people pointing out my appearance. It just made me wildly self-conscious. Maybe that was a little contrarian seeing as I had facial piercings and tattoos and dyed my hair bright colours, but I didn’t do that for other people.

Besides, Ewen wasn’t saying it to be nice—he was just teasing me like he always did. Trying to rile me up, because he found it funny.

“Thanks for your help,” I said stiltedly, expecting him to finally, finally get up and say he’d better be going.

Instead, he gestured at our glasses on the coffee table. “Got us some more water. And found this real bad-lookin’ zombie western movie I thought we could watch after we finish this one.”

I stared at him in disbelief as he turned back to face the TV.

Seriously, what the fuck was happening? Why was he here?

Why wasn’t he leaving?

I knew, rationally, that I could just tell him to go and he likely would. I could say I was going to bed early because I still felt hungover. I could say I had plans. Technically, I had had plans. Plans I’d cancelled because I hadn’t wanted to socialise tonight.

But I didn’t. I didn’t say any of that. I didn’t tell him to leave.

I just walked slowly over to the couch and sat back down.

“You cold?” Ewen asked when I pulled my legs up to my chest and hunched in on myself. He lifted his ass to pull the blanket out from under him then offered it to me.

Still so fucking confused, I slowly took it and draped it half-heartedly over my knees. Then I stiffened up completely when Ewen shuffled closer so he could cover his lap too.

Not close enough for us to be touching, but closer. I could feel the warmth radiating from him. Could smell whatever cologne he wore.

My cock twitched, making my skin grow hot with humiliation. For fuck’s sake, why hadn’t I put boxers on under my pyjama pants when I went back upstairs? I pulled my legs tighter to my chest and stared with unseeing eyes at the TV when he hit play.