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“It’s gel. You know, to style your hair.”
“Right.” He shoved it back into the tote, only to fish out a comb, soap, shampoo, and aerosol deodorant. “This is all you need, man. And a razor if you’re going to be gone a while.”
With a sniff, I rolled my eyes. “Such a caveman.”
He laughed. “Shut up.” With a grin, he flung my bag at me. Unprepared, I fumbled to catch it against my chest.
“I’m taking a shower,” he announced as he strolled into the bathroom with my things. “Thanks for letting me borrow your shit. I owe you one.”
“Uh-huh,” I murmured, distracted as I glanced into my cosmetics bag. “Wait! Don’t you want the conditioner?” Pulling it out, I held it up for him to see.
He paused and glanced back, scowling. “I thought only women used that.”
“Oh, gee, would you read this here little label? It says conditioner for men.”
“Yeah, but only—” He broke off suddenly, as if he knew he was about to say something offensive.
“Only what?” I asked, lifting my brows. “Go ahead and finish that sentence. Only gay guys use it?”
He scowled. “That’s...not what I was going to say.”
I sent him a look, letting him know I knew better, and he frowned harder.
Then I sighed. “I seriously can’t believe you don’t condition your hair.” It looked so soft and shiny, as if it was properly taken care of. “With those blond highlights, you must have split ends galore. It’s just...what a sad state of affairs is all I can say. And I bet your roots—”
“Oh, brother.” He reached out a hand. “Toss me the fucking conditioner.”
I did, smiling smugly for some reason. “And when you’re done, I’ll use the gel on you and show you how to probably style that gorgeous mane of yours.”
He froze, staring at me, only his eyelashes moving as he blinked. “You...want to style my hair?”
“What?” I asked
innocently. “I’m gay, remember?”
A small smile cracked his lips and his shoulders relaxed an inch. “You’re fucking with me right now, aren’t you?”
“Of course.” With a wink, I blew a kiss at him. “How could I resist?”
“Jesus.” Shaking his head and chuckling softly under his breath, he began to close himself inside his bathroom as he said, “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
As the latch clicked shut, a broad smile swept across my face. That had been kind of fun.
Note to self: verbally joust with Asher Hart as often as possible.
Sure, he’d treated me like a guy the entire time, but this giddy little bubble inside me kept floating higher and higher in my chest.
Despite his forgetfulness and complete lack of organizational skills, Asher was a cool guy. Not once on the ride up here had he done anything to annoy me, quite unlike the other two, who thank God, I was actually relieved I didn’t have to room with. And he had my sense of humor. No one had my sense of humor.
This was just...awesome.
The water in the shower kicked on, and my grin died a sudden death. All I could picture was him...naked and wet, slicking the very soap I’d bought onto parts I’d never get to see...or touch. I wanted to be his hands so bad right now, smoothing their way up his muscled abs, or soaping his hair. Damn. This wasn’t awesome at all. He was torturing me without even knowing it.
Asher Hart didn’t need some fancy seduction to draw a woman in. He just had to be himself for me to want him. Bad.
I ended up letting Remy style my hair. I have no idea why; I knew he’d just been joking about that. But it’d been fun to tease around with him, and I needed a distraction, because truth be told, I was a little nervous about tonight.
Performing at Forbidden had become comfortable and predictable. I loved it, but I knew if we were ever going to grow, we needed to branch out. So...here was to new-and-terrifying experiments.
