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‘Oh, thank you, that’s wonderful. You’re a genius,’ she said. ‘I really really appreciate it.’
‘I haven’t fixed it yet.’
‘Yes, but I know you will.’ How the heck did she know that? Were there no bounds to this woman’s optimism?
‘What do you need? In the way of parts? I’ll go get them now,’ she added breathlessly.
He let his gaze drift to her head. ‘Shouldn’t you figure out your hair first?’
Her hand touched the towel wrapped round her head. ‘Balls. I forgot. I suppose I’ll have to rinse it in cold water after all. The hot water cut out just after I’d dumped the shampoo on it. Would you believe it? Perfect timing all round.’
She tugged off the towel, revealing a wet soapy mass of chestnut curls and the scent of roses drifted towards him. The scent he remembered from when he’d had his hands full of her at the park.
‘Bummer,’ he murmured.
‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you write a list of the things you need while I go do the water torture.’
But as she headed past him, his hand shot out of its own accord and snagged her wrist. ‘Wait up. Why don’t you heat some water in a pan and I’ll rinse it for you?’ The minute the offer popped out, he knew it was a mistake.
‘Really? That would be beyond wonderful.’
He dropped her hand, the sensation sprinting up his arm making the ulterior motives for his generous offer crystal clear. He wanted to sink his fingers into the fragrant mass and find out if it felt as soft and silky as it looked.
Devlin, you dirt bag.
‘Or you could do it yourself. Up to you,’ he said, giving her an easy out, in case she didn’t want his questing fingers testing the silky softness of her hair.
‘Honestly, it would be much less of a mess if you did it,’ she said, the light in her eyes not entirely guileless anymore. ‘If you don’t mind, that is?’
‘I don’t mind,’ he said, following her into a kitchen the size of shoebox.
Seemed like he and Ruby were on the same page. He wasn’t entirely sure what page that was, but for once he decided not to get hung up on the small print. Offering to wash her hair was not the same as asking her to drop her postage stamp and let him caress all those bountiful curves until she begged.
He watched her fill a kettle and find a plastic basin and a measuring jug. She hunted up another towel and half-filled the basin with cold water. When the kettle boiled she mixed the hot water in with the cold, then wrapped the towel around her shoulders and bent over the sink.
‘Just fill up the jug from the tub and tip it over my head,’ she said, her voice muffled by the hair she had swept over her forehead.
He picked up the jug and dipped it into the warm water.
Surely, they couldn’t get into too much trouble? He’d never fantasised about washing a woman’s hair before, so how erotic could it really be?
The memory of Ruby’s breasts pressed against the postage stamp towel echoed through him but he quashed the memory as he rested his thumb and forefinger on her nape below the hairline. Her neck muscles trembled beneath his fingertips – and the jolt of awareness sped up his arm, arrowed down through his torso and shot straight into his crotch with the speed and accuracy of a heat-seeking missile.
Answer: when it was Ruby Graham’s hair he was washing, erotic enough to give him an instant woody.
***
Don’t purr.
Ruby chewed on her lip to stop the moan of pleasure coming out of her mouth as Luke’s strong firm fingers massaged the base of her skull. Warm water flooded over her head and his caressing fingers moved up her scalp.
Pleasure rippled through her in eddying waves. The heavy weight in her abdomen sunk, making her clitoris purr along with the rest of her body.
His massaging fingers migrated all over her skull, finding the tightly packed muscles behind her ears, the supremely sensitive skin on top of her head, releasing the frown on her forehead.
Just kill me now.
The flowing water only made the sensations more acute as Luke awakened nerve endings that had been in a coma for a very long time.
