The first attempt was rough. One side shorter than the other. He didn’t let her forget it for weeks. But she stuck with it, and his hair actually started to look decent. Better than anything I’ve ever managed with a knife.
I watched from a distance, pretending to work while she stood behind him, focused.
I wanted to ask her to cut mine, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I look back at her now. “You never offered before.”
She shrugs, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Figured you’d rather wrestle a shark than let me near you with scissors.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “You’re not wrong.”
I run a hand through my hair again, feeling the longer strands at the back of my neck. Yeah. It’s out of hand.
I shrug. “Fine.”
Her eyebrows lift a little. “Really?”
“Sure. Why not? But if you mess it up, I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”
Charlotte grins. “I couldn’t do worse than you.”
I chuckle. “Debatable.”
She pushes to her feet, dusting off her hands. “I’ll go to the yacht and grab the good scissors. Unless you don’t care—then I’ll use the ones we butcher fish with.”
“Definitely the good scissors.”
I watch her head toward the yacht, then go back to the net. By the time she makes it back, I’ve finished the last knot and set it aside.
Charlotte unwraps the scissors and tests the blades with a quick snip.
She gestures toward one of the logs by the fire. “Sit.”
I raise a brow. “Bossy.”
She lifts the scissors. “Watch it. I’m armed.”
She points at the log again. “Come on before I change my mind.”
I shake my head and get up, brushing the sand from my hands before crossing the clearing.
She steps in behind me, dragging the little driftwood table closer. Then her fingers slide into my hair. They move slowly, combing through the strands at the back of my head, lifting and separating.
Her nails scrape lightly across my scalp, and my reaction is instant. A sharp line of sensation down my spine… straight to my cock.
Fuck.
I stare out toward the beach like nothing happened.
“Are you nervous? You seem nervous.”
“No. I’m fine.” My response is too quick.
Her fingers move through my hair again, slower this time. “I’m just figuring out what I want to do with it.”
Another pass, just as careful, sending a tingle through my body.
I clear my throat. “It’s okay. I’m trusting the process.”
