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He pulls the fork away from me, his eyes twinkling. “No, the only way you're going to eat is if you let me do it.”
I glare at him and press my mouth firmly shut.
He stares back at me with a frown before his voice deepens. “I couldn't stop thinking about you all night and wondering what your sweet pussy tastes like.”
My mouth falls open at his bluntness. He smirks and stuffs a bite a salad in my mouth.
I glare at him as I have no choice but to chew the bite and swallow.
He laughs at his victory.
“You bastard,” I hiss at him and try to grab the fork from his grasp again, but he holds it out of my reach.
His arms are too long, and he’s too fast. I can't snag it from him.
“Give me my lunch,” I order him as sternly as I can.
He forks another bite of salad and holds it up to my mouth stubbornly. “I'm trying to, you stubborn woman.”
I scoff. He really has the audacity to callmethe stubborn one.
He reads the thoughts on my face and grins before he shrugs. “I can do this all day, baby. I'm not letting you leave here until you let me feed you every bit of this salad.”
I can tell the lunatic means what he says, so I grudgingly open my mouth and let him feed me like a child.
He holds my eyes the entire time, except for when they flick down to my lips and darken.
I don't even taste the food. All I can focus on is him and how this is way too intimate. Somehow, it's more intimate than if he kissed.
When I’m done, he gathers the tray up and takes it over to the sink. I watch wordlessly as he washes it up for me and then dries it.
I can't figure out what to make of him or why he's so stubbornly inserting himself into my life.
I glance over at the clock. Dammit, this was supposed to be my time to get him off my mind, and yet he's taken it all up and only inserted himself even further into my thoughts.
“I've got to get back to work,” I tell him.
“No, you don't.” He stops me by looping a hand around my waist and pulling me closer to him.
I tilt my head up to meet his gaze. He tries to pull me flush against him, but I lay my palms on his chest to keep our chests from meeting.
“Yes, I do,” I tell him firmly. “I'm booked solid for the rest of the day.”
He shakes his head. “No, you’re not.”
I glare at him. “I think I know what my schedule says, Jesse.”
His jaw firms. “And I think every cut you had lined up this afternoon was for male clients, so I bought them out.”
My mouth falls open. “You what?”
“I paid them off to reschedule with another hairstylist.” His voice holds no regret.
My voice comes out shrill with my incredulity. “You're going to make me lose all my clients!”
The big, handsome idiot just shrugs. “I'll pay you for every client you lost. I’ll pay you more than they would have paid you in a year. I just don't want you putting your hands in another man's hair. Cut all the women's hair you want.”
I stare at him. “Are you insane?”
