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“Warn a girl, will you?” I pour a few drops over my fingers and set the small glass bottle beside me as the scents of orange, clove, cinnamon, and something woodsy fill the room.
“That smells really good.”
“It does.” Then, trying for a chill I’m not feeling, I reach for his head.
I brace for the moment my fingers touch the glossy dark strands, telling myself I’m just helping him out.
“There’s… um… just two spots, really. It says to rub it in and slowly comb it through.”
Another smirk. “Be gentle with me.”
I ought to laugh, but the nervous energy building within me won’t allow it. I rub the oil into his hair, working it in with my fingers in one section and then the other before combing a bit at a time, until a few minutes later, the teeth finally pull through.
“Think we got it.”
“Yeah?”
I sift my fingers through his hair in a few places to make sure, and Noel lets out a low groan. “Feels good. You sure there isn’t a little more sap in there?”
I swallow, give it another couple testing strokes, even though I’m sure. “That’s it, but if you bend your head over the sink here, I’ll wash it for you.”
He nods and pushes out of the chair to move to the farmhouse-style sink. Resting one forearm at the side and one at the lip, he leans in close to the faucet.
“This good?” he asks from beneath a fall of dark waves.
I’m staring at the defined cut of his bare back, muscles I wouldn’t have believed existed outside Photoshop, standing out in stark relief. What did he ask? Oh, right.
I nod. “That’s good. Great. But, um, let me get some regular shampoo.”
A shake of his head. “Dish soap is fine to get the oil out.”
Right.
I turn on the water, letting it run for a few seconds to warm up, and then guide his head under to wet his hair.
“Close your eyes.” I add the soap and rub it in, massaging his scalp a bit just because I know he likes it, and I like that low rumble of appreciation he makes when I do it. I use the detachable nozzle to rinse, and when he turns his head, letting the water run away from his face, his eyes open and meet mine.
The air thins until I’m not sure my knees will hold me. I turn off the water and use a clean hand towel to dry what I can of his hair before draping it around his neck.
Noel stands, using his hand to push the damp waves from his face, his fingers leaving deep ravines between the waves, then uses the towel to wipe off his shoulders and chest.
“Thanks, Misty,” he says, his voice taking on a rumbling depth that wasn’t there before. Was it?
I nod, looking up into his face.
Getting a little lost in the way he’s looking at mine.
In how that lopsided smile slips from his lips in one of those rare serious moments.
This man is so beautiful, I forget what I was going to say. Forget about why I’m not supposed to fall for him. I forget to breathe.
And having his eyes on me like this is an addictive thing. Now that I’ve had it, how am I supposed to go without?
My heart stops as his eyes dip to my mouth. He shakes his head. Once. Meets my eyes again.
“Noel,” I whisper a heartbeat before his mouth catches mine in a teasing, soft back-and-forth rub that incrementally deepens with every pass until—
Until it’s gone in a blink, and the smile that’s perpetually lifting his lips is replaced by a furrowed-brow stare so intense, I swear he can see straight into my soul.
