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“How’s the temperature?”
“Fine.” I cleared my throat. “Good.”
Once my hair was completely soaked, she squeezed some of my shampoo into her hand and massaged it into my hair and scalp. “So, what do you think? You want a trim or to go shorter?”
“Whatever you decide. You’re the professional.”
She moved over me, reaching for I don’t know—a cup or something similar—and I had to bite my cheek when her breast briefly skimmed the side of my face. She either didn’t notice or did but didn’t want to say anything. When I glanced her way, I’d bet my entire paycheck on the latter, from the way her nipples were hard underneath her thin navy top and how she so diligently avoided eye contact with me.
I cleared my throat again because, damn, I had a boulder lodged there, and she worked in silence, conditioning, rinsing, and then drying my hair with a smaller towel. Standing in front of me, she raked her fingers through the wet strands, pulling and pushing it this way and that, before taking a matching iridescent comb and scissors from her tool kit. Then she got to work, snipping away, occasionally shifting to either side but always back in front of me to study me, the corner of her mouth quirked to the side.
“You’re cute when you concentrate,” I said like a total asshole.
She bit back a smile. “Well, I’m concentrating hard. I need to make you look good.”
“I know. It’s an almost impossible task with this face.”
Her fingers slipped from the hair at my temple to my jaw. “Absolutely hideous.”
She smiled. Then I smiled. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to control myself around her.
She was in front of me, smelling so sweet and looking so comfy with her hair pulled back in a loose knot, strands falling carelessly around her face and neck. She stood between my legs with bare feet, coils of my hair clumped on the floor, and as she ran her fingers over the back of my neck, brushing off clippings, I gave in.
I curled my hands around her hips, letting out a breath and closing my eyes. Like I’d finally finished a race.
One that I’d lost.
Kennedy halted, her gaze dipping to mine, and I swallowed thickly, any words of apology or explanation gone from my head. There was only her and my fingertips dragging down to the outsides of her thighs.
Her pretty mouth opened and closed, her warm breath fanning over my face, and I knew I should let her go. But I didn’t.
I didn’t fucking want to.
She licked those plump lips of hers and removed the towel from around my neck, and I tightened my grasp on her, squeezing her thighs. They were exactly as lush as I’d imagined.
“Liam,” she whispered, and I dropped my forehead to her stomach. She so rarely used my name. It was always a playful “Professor” or speaking about me in front of Finn so she called me “Daddy,” but hearing my name rolling off her tongue, it was almost painful.
I took a deep breath, ready to stand up and apologize, but suddenly, one of her hands was wrapping around the nape of my neck, the other burrowing into my hair, urging me to lift my head, meet her gaze.
And I did. I met those brown eyes, wide and wondering and maybe a little fearful, but even more than that, they shone with something that looked an awful lot like lust.
“Kennedy…” I was exhausted from trying to hide this from her…from myself. I couldn’t do it anymore. “I?—”
I was interrupted by her phone ringing. We both whipped our heads to the side, where her cell lay on the vanity, between the two sinks. And all I needed to see was one name on the screen: Jordan.
I dropped my hands and released a ragged breath. It took her a long moment to step away from me. “I…um…”
I shook my head and stood, pulling at my shirt, releasing more stray strands of hair to the floor. “I’ll clean up in here so you can get that.”
“It’s not?—”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not,” she said weakly.
“It is,” I told her. “I shouldn’t have…” I vaguely gestured to the chair then to her. “You’re Finn’s nanny, and your boyfriend’s calling. It’s my fault. I never should have touched you.”
She shook her head, her brow crimping, mouth turned down, but I pivoted away before I could see her eyes fill with tears. I knew they were coming. I could tell from the way she wrung her fingers together, bit the corner of her lower lip.
