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He grunted, not agreeing but also not contradicting me.
I sectioned off his hair and cut it, wincing with each snip. The stubbly beard and stubbly hair version of Bron looked more dangerous—more like the crime family enforcer he apparently was. He had several interesting scars, and I assumed they were from people he’d fought on his boss’s behalf.
I stepped away when I was done, then fixed a few places where his hair was uneven. Considering I didn’t have clippers, it looked good.
“I’m sure any barber would see the flaws, but it looks decent,” I admitted.
“No one in Ilya’s family is a barber, so I’m sure they won’t notice when we visit. Besides, I’m no one in that house.”
I ran my hand over his hair, and he leaned into it, as though it had been a caress rather than me checking my handiwork. I scratched at his scalp, and he groaned in pleasure.
“Do you want me to shave you?”
He gave me a long look with his dark, brooding eyes. “You think I should trust you with a razor near my throat?” he murmured.
How could he make that sound sexy?
“Are you afraid I might take advantage of you?”
His slow, dirty smile turned me on.
“I can still taste your pussy on my tongue.” He sucked at his bottom lip like there might be some of me there, too, and I groaned in frustration, vividly remembering the feel of his mouth on me from when they held me down and tortured me earlier.
I put down the scissors and straddled his lap, reaching up to play with his hair some more.
“You like my hair short?” He reached between us and slid his fingers along the seam of my leggings, pressing the fabric between my labia and using the seam to torture my still sensitive clit.
“You must feel lighter, between the beard and the hair.”
He pulled his hand away from me and ran it through the hair I’d left him. I was relieved it looked good.
“This is probably how the sheep feel.” He coaxed me up off his lap and gave my ass an affectionate smack that made me smile on the inside. I managed not to smile on the outside. Trying to remember not to smile was the hardest part of his lessons. “Go. I will be down to see you after I shave.”
Without meaning to, I heaved a sigh.
”Is your needy little cunt reminding you to be a good girl?”
I glared at him. “It’s encouraging me to be a very bad girl.”
“No fucking Ilya, and no touching yourself.”
“You suck.”
“Your clit? Maybe if you’re an obedient little bitch.”
Head held high, I grabbed the scissors and walked out of the room with as much dignity as I could muster. Was I fantasizing about going back and begging for an orgasm, or even for the pleasure of sucking his cock? Yes. However, the man was already cocky enough and didn’t need me to encourage him.
As soon as I entered the bathroom Ilya was shaving in, I fell back a step. He met my gaze and gave me an uncertain smile. Fuck, he was hot—like runway-model-in-Paris level hot. God, his face.
“You’re…beautiful.”
He grimaced. “Beautiful? Men aren’t supposed to be beautiful.” His brow creased. “I should have kept my beard.”
“No, Bron was right. You can’t show up there looking like you live in the bush.”
“But we do. Vas knows that because he left me here.” His voice had a growl in it I rarely heard him use outside of sex. I gave a shiver, finally pairing this version of him with the one who’d learned with an almost fanatical enthusiasm how to make me come.
“What happened here?” I reached up and traced the scar that slashed his cheekbone. I’d noticed it before, of course, but I’d never asked.
He touched it, fingers exploring the ridge. It wasn’t a terrible scar, but it stood out white against his skin. Come to think of it, it surprised me that although their skin was a bit paler under their beards, it wasn’t super obvious.
“One of Vas’s rings caught me there when I was small.”
“He used to slap you around?” I ran my fingers through his still-long hair.
“Sometimes, if he noticed me. He didn’t pay me much attention.”
“You weren’t his favorite.”
He flashed a grin at me, and I blinked at the overwhelming urge to disobey Bron and jump Ilya here and now. That smile with that face? Absolutely devastating. It made me feel suddenly bashful, as though he were someone else now and far too good for someone like me.
“I’m no one’s favorite. I’ll settle for being your second favorite.” He winked at me.
Was swooning an option? Because goddamn, he was fine.
“For the sake of marriages everywhere, it’s a good thing Vas hid you on this island. You’d tempt too many wives and at least half of the husbands.”
He grimaced again, as though he thought I was only being nice.
