Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I’d love to hug and kiss him. It feels weird not to do that after last night, but I want to give him space. I’m pretty sure all of this is new to him, even if I’ve not asked him outright.
I grin and make my way to the living room, where I have a little kitchenette in the corner, with a fridge and a microwave. Too bad I haven’t yet unpacked my things, because the AeroPress might come in handy. I can’t be bothered to look for it now and grab the jar of instant coffee.
“Would you like to have a pillow and a blanket under there?”
Creep cocks his head, and his eyes widen as he follows me. “Yes. Would that be okay? I really don’t want you to dislike me.”
Be still my heart. That has to be the most earnest thing I’ve ever heard.
I step closer and almost grab his hand before I stop myself, once again remembering he has issues with normal displays of affection. I make a mental note to also spread a yoga mat under my bed, so he’s more comfortable, and add coffee to my two best cups. He gets the one with Prince Charming, and while he might not get the joke, I’ll enjoy watching him drink from it. I then add water and place both mugs in the microwave before facing him.
“That would be a very silly reason to dislike someone. I want you to feel welcome.”
He sits at the table, and I remember the promise to cut his hair, so while the coffee heats up, I rummage through the right box, searching for the tools and products I’ll need.
“I felt… very welcome last night, it was nice to shower with you,” Creep says.
Once again, I itch to approach him from behind and glide my fingers down his hard chest, until I’m hugging him, but it’s too early for that. The beep of the microwave calls me over, and soon I place both steaming cups on the table.
“You know that I went to school for hairdressing?” I ask, showing him my scissors.
He straightens up, all of his attention on me. I worry that he might have an issue with haircuts as well, but he doesn’t seem distressed in any way, and I’m getting pretty attuned to his energy by now. His aura might be dark, but I can almost see the bright sparks glittering over it every time I speak.
“You did? Is that something you like to do? Do you cut your own hair? It’s very pretty.” His eyes follow me in a way that could be read as menacing, but I see him for what he is—a lovesick puppy.
And, oh, how I want him to adore me. I have no idea what kind of relationship with him I want, I’m happy to go with the flow, but I want something.
The sudden onslaught of need makes me breathless, and I comb back my own hair, cocking my hip. “Well, thank you! Yes I do. Would you like me to do something with yours?” I lean over him from the back and take a deep inhale, straight from his head. “Your hair smells so good.”
“You said you’ll cut it? Do whatever you think would look good.” Creep says and grabs the steaming mug.
Oh, I love a man who lets me do my thing.
“All right,” I say and press a playful kiss to his head. I freeze, wondering if it isn’t too much, but when he doesn’t protest, I drape a cape over his shoulders and reach for my comb. We both remain silent, me dividing his tar-black strands into sections, him squeezing the mug in his hands, but the question throbbing at the back of my throat since we met needs to be asked, even if I need to prepare him for it.
“So… I really enjoyed last night.”
“Y-yes? I… worry I talked too much about myself.”
“No way. I like your voice,” I tell him, eager to boost his confidence. He has a lot of thick hair, and since it overwhelms his features, the best solution is to create more layers. As I get to work, it’s much easier to ask the big, important questions. “So… have you done anything like that before?”
When he shifts his head, trying to slouch, I correct him, and he doesn’t protest. I wish he had a mirror in front of him, so I could see his face.
“No. I only ever fantasized about it. Reality was much, much better.” There’s so much raw lust in his voice I have to take a deep breath because my body is already reacting to his words. But I do wonder if what he’s saying is that he’s never done the sleep kink before, or if he’s not had sex before.
I move, working on his dark strands until we are almost facing each other. “I liked the way you touched me, all gentle. As if you couldn’t get enough,” I whisper, and while sex isn’t new for me, the tension between us is so fragile I still worry my words might not land the way I intend them to.