“I’ll be right back,” I said, pointing my finger toward him. “Don’t go anywhere,” I warned, narrowing my eyes at him.
He held up his hands in mock defeat and I figured it was safe to grab a comb from the bathroom but by the time I found a comb in the cabinet under the sink, his body was hovering over mine.
“Jesus, Riggs,” I croaked.
“Since you’re giving me a haircut I thought it’d be easier if we did it in the bathroom,” he suggested, as he sat on the toilet seat. He moved his arms and cringed as he drew the zipper down his sweatshirt and worked it down his arms.
I gasped when I saw the large red marks that covered his body and reached out to touch them but he grabbed my hand and I diverted my eyes to his. He shook his head.
“They’re not there,” he started. “Ignore them,” he continued, throwing his shirt onto the counter before spreading his legs and pulling me between them, locking them around me. “How ‘bout that haircut, Kitten?”
I swallowed, reaching across the counter for the spray bottle and misted his hair so it was wet, then ran my fingers through what was left of it. I heard the groan rumble low in the back of his throat, encouraging me to thread my fingers through his hair again, this time I tugged the ends and tilted his head back so he was looking up at me.
“Keep your head straight,” I instructed, positioning his head so he wasn’t looking up at me anymore and looking straight ahead. I ran the comb through his wet hair, snipping here and there.
“How was your day?” He asked after a few moments.
“Uneventful, until you came home,” I replied.
“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to start staying here with you,” he said hesitantly.
“It’s your place, Riggs,” I reminded him. “If I get in your way—”
“Cut it out, Lauren,” he clipped, interrupting me and tilting his head upward to look into my eyes. “I want you here,” he added.
“Okay, then,” I whispered, cupping his chin with one hand and forcing him back into position. “Stop moving,” I ordered.
“Are you always this demanding?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I teased.
“Yeah, I think I would,” he answered immediately.
I ignored the comment, learning that reading too deep into Riggs would only hurt me. He was unattainable and the more time we spent together, the more he consumed my every thought. I was going to suffer a major heartache—his name was Riggs.
I continued to cut his hair in silence, willing myself not to look at the marks on his skin and happy that some of his tattoos covered the grueling red lashes. I ran my hand over his hair, checking each side to make sure it was even and there was no trace of the number some asshole decided to put on his head.
“I think we’re done,” I said, inspecting the crew cut he was now sporting.
“Thank Christ,” he hissed. “I don’t know how much more I can take,” he stated.
“Anxious?” I asked, taking a step backward so he could glance in the mirror. He didn’t move. He didn’t get up or turn around to look at his new hair style, instead he stared at me.
“Had your nipples saluting me for the last twenty minutes, Kitten. I really appreciate the no bra thing but not when I’m horny as fuck,” he rasped.
I didn’t know words could deliver empowerment, but they did, giving me the courage to give into temptation. I took another step backward, watched as my poor battered Tiger peered at me with one lustful eye.
That look was all for me.
Maybe he did want me.
Or maybe he was just horny.
I was horny too so I decided to just go with it.
What was the worst that could happen?
Become pregnant? Ha!
Decision made.
I fingered the hem of my t-shirt, building up my courage and watching him intently. When his good eye glassed over and he growled, I pulled the flimsy fabric over my head. I balled it up and threw it on the counter with his sweatshirt.
I swallowed down my doubt. Doubt that this man wanted me the way I wanted him and rocked the confidence buried deep inside of me.
“How horny are you, Tiger?” I asked, arching an eyebrow as I stepped toward him. My breasts swayed with each step. They were bigger, heavier even, and my nipples always seemed to be erect and sore…so goddamn sore. My belly was still flat which only accentuated the flotation devises I had for breasts.
Riggs reached out, grabbing my hips and pulled me back in-between his legs.
“You giving me the green light, Kitten? Tell me you’re giving me the green light.”
I didn’t even know what that meant but as his hand glided up my stomach and his thumb brushed one of my nipples, I didn’t care to know either.
“Had a long day, didn’t you, Riggs?” I said, throwing one leg over his thigh and taking a seat on his knee. “A man deserves to relax after a day like yours,” I added, running my hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him closer so my breasts brushed against his chest.