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They’d met at Gage’s office right at closing time, both of them agreeing to drive their own cars here since their homes were in opposite directions, so they stopped on the sidewalk, just outside the salon.
“I wish you’d let me pay you back.”
“No.”
“Fine. But no more paying for anything,” she insisted. “This is my makeover, my favor. The wager didn’t include you shelling out money for anything.”
“I’m loaded, Beaumont. Got more money than I can spend in twelve lifetimes. A haircut isn’t going to break me.”
“That’s not the point.” She paused then touched her hair once more and forced herself to ask, “Do you hate it?”
Gage seemed genuinely surprised by her question. “Fuck no. It’s perfect. I can’t stop looking at it.”
She smiled, relieved, as she ran her fingers through it. “You realize I’ll never manage to make it look like this again. That guy wielded a hairdryer like a professional gunslinger. I don’t even own one.”
“You do now.” Gage lifted the bag and handed it to her. “And a curling iron. And all those fancy products he used. You’re going to practice until you get it right. If you come to work with your hair pinned up in one of those Princess Leia hairdos again, therewillbe consequences.”
Penny wanted to ask what kind of consequences, but she couldn’t make herself. Because he’d used that damn tone again, setting off a nuclear explosion of fluttering inside her body.
“Okay,” she said, because agreeing would ensure the quickest, easiest way out of this conversation without making an ass of herself.
“Meet me tomorrow afternoon, same time and place, for round two.”
She nodded and started to turn toward the car. Before she could do so, Gage grasped her upper arm gently, twisting her to face him once more. She stood there, shell-shocked, as he ran his fingers through her hair, then closed his fist around it.
For a moment, she thought he was going to use that grip to pull her closer, to—ohmigod—kiss her, but then he released his grip.
“Nothing like having something to hold on to when you take a woman from behind, driving in deep and hard.”
“Oh…” she breathed.
He studied her too intently for her comfort. “You’d like having your hair pulled, wouldn’t you?” he murmured.
His words drew a picture of just such a thing in her mind, leaving Penny too flustered to respond.
“Perfect. Goodbye, Beaumont.”
She gave him a little wave, the slightest fluttering of her fingers, to match the same sensations he’d just fired off…everywhere else.
On Friday afternoon, Penny stood outside Gage’s office door, just as she had every single day this week, preparing herself for whatever the hell round five might consist of. Gage had clearly made a list, and they were systematically working their way through it.
The entire week had been a lot of fun, though she couldn’t quite believe Gage’s commitment to honoring the bet, touched by his willingness to spend hours with her every evening after work to give her what she’d asked for.
Of course, her favorite part of each night came at the end, when Gage explained—in dirty detail—how the changes they’d made would attract men. Every comment had fed her fantasies, ensuring her vibrator was getting one hell of a workout this week.
Tuesday’s excursion to the optometrist led to the contacts she was currently wearing and still trying to adjust to. Gage had allowed her to keep the glasses but informed her she couldn’t wear them to work anymore.
Then he’d leaned in close, running his lips over the side of her face, his beard tickling her cheek, his breath hot in her ear. “No glasses in the way. Gives a man unobstructed access to kiss every part of your face and to look deep into those pretty blue eyes of yours when you come on his cock.”
On Wednesday, she’d spent two and a half hours getting a tutorial on how to apply makeup from a professional makeup artist Gage had hired for the lesson. Then he had dropped an ungodly amount of money buying her all the makeup, despite her argument that she had money and could afford it.
After the lesson, they’d stood on the sidewalk once again, something that had become part of their daily ritual. He reserved his comments about her changing looks until they were alone. Gage had reached for her, only he didn’t grip her hair or kiss her face. Instead, he’d run his thumb over her lips, while she’d prayed the man would kiss her.
He hadn’t. Dammit.
He’d pulled his thumb away to show her that the lipstick hadn’t smeared. “Can’t decide if that’s good or bad,” he’d mused. “It sucks when a woman’s lipstick smears when you’re kissing her, but I do like the look of it staining my cock after she goes down on me.”
He’d followed that pronouncement up with a wink, chuckling when she blushed.
