Brinton roughly blotted a wad of paper towels against the back of her neck as Jamie’s fingertips glided together. She slid him a fresh sheet, but he shook his head.
Eyes on her, he slowly worked the slickness between folds of skin and across thick veins on the back of his hands, as if anointing himself with her essence. Like it fortified him.
The act was all at once unassuming and the hottest damn thing she’d ever seen.
“I like it. It smells really good,” he said.
“Oh.” She blew out a breath, relieved. “My sister makes it for me and my mom. It’s like our family crest.”
He held out his left hand and pointed to the chunky gold ring on his pinky.
“I suppose this is our crest. My mom gave it to me when I was seven. I couldn’t even fit it then. She wanted me to have something I could grow into, carry with me long after she was gone. I didn’t know what she meant back then, but I do now.”
Brinton took his hand, her eyes following the wispy curves of theCcarved into the bezel. Occasionally, she caught glimpses as he twisted it wistfully around his finger, but this was the first time she genuinely admired it.
Finally, Brinton understood why Jamie was so protective over his mother. He was fighting to keep those memories alive.
That nagging inner voice beckoned for Brinton to grab her phone, a few feet away on the counter, and turn on the voice recorder app. Ask him a few more questions. But her heart wanted to enjoy the hallowed intimacy between them.
So, she did.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said. When she released his hand, she dreaded the sudden emptiness.
“Do you need a hand with your hair?” he asked.
“You want to help me oil my scalp?”
“Yeah, I do.”
She glanced at him skeptically, mining the depths of his eyes for some ulterior motive. She found none.
“Let me get the bottle upstairs.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Afew minutes later, Jamie sat on the couch. On the floor, Brinton rested between Jamie’s spread thighs. She held the hair oil like a treasured artifact.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Hmm. If you’re asking if I have ever let a white man touch my hair like this, the answer is no.”
They both laughed at the culturally inclusive elephant in the room.
“This isn’t weird for me, you know. I’ve done it before,” Jamie said, taking the bottle from her hands.
Brinton cast him a sidelong glance.
“Is this some kind of weird Black lady kink?” she asked, a sugared sarcasm in her tone. “Do you lure unsuspecting, tender-headed women into your home and grease away their pain?”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t call it a kink. It’s more like crushing on women hopelessly out of my league. But that wouldn’t surprise you, would it?”
“I didn’t think the Heartbreak Prince had to work that hard.” She laughed, settling back between his legs.
Jamie sighed. He was ready to shuck off that persona once and for all.
“Before you came to Iris, Kendall and I would hook up sometimes. I thought I owed it to her, for hurting her. But I’m done with that. And after my new album comes out, I’m done with this Heartbreak Prince thing too. I guess I wanted you to know, since now we’re…”
“A thing?” she asked, still facing away from him.
