Chapter 34 Take a Seat Sir
Take a seat Sir
It’s been six weeks since I moved in with the boys. Somehow, it feels like I’ve lived here forever. Everything just… works. Lucas and Tyler are easy to be around—effortlessly easy.
We fell into a rhythm almost instantly.
I cook most nights, just like I promised, and they act like I’ve served gourmet five-star meals, even if it’s just spaghetti and garlic bread.
They make me feel appreciated. Seen.
Sean hadn’t thanked me for cooking for at least a year.
Honestly, I barely think about Sean anymore. Lucas can still tell I’m healing though, and he gives me space. Even after my drunken mess of a night the other weekend and Valentines Day last weekend, he didn’t take advantage or make it weird.
I want to give into the temptation—because, God, I want him—but he stayed completely respectful. Not many guys could say the same.
And don’t even get me started on the gifts. I haven’t taken the necklace off since he gave it to me. I love it so much.
It’s Saturday morning, and Tyler’s out for the whole day. Probably a date—he winked at me on his way out and said, “Don’t wait up unless you’re dying to hear all the gory details.”
No, thank you.
So it’s just Lucas and I home today. We’ve been alone a handful of times since I moved in, usually Tyler’s around, and this week’s been hectic. We’ve barely seen each other, like strangers passing in the night.
It’s safe to say I’m a little nervous.
I offered to cut his hair today since I’ve got the day off and so does he. I set up a chair and my tools in his bathroom. His is the biggest in the house.
“Hey, Lucas,” I call out. “Ready when you are.”
I hear his footsteps a minute later, he walks in shirtless, wearing only his running shorts.
Fuck, he’s so hot.
I remind myself to stay professional.
“Take a seat, Sir,” motioning to the dining chair I dragged in front of the mirror. He smirks as he sits down. So much for professional.
I start running my fingers through his hair, and when I glance up, he’s already looking at me in the mirror with those stunning green eyes.
Butterflies. Every single time.
He usually keeps those looks to a minimum when Tyler’s around—but Tyler’s not here.
That look? He wants me. As much as I want him.
But I know Lucas won’t cross a line unless I make the first move.
“Your hair’s so soft and clean,” I murmur, still combing my fingers through it. “So… what would you like me to do with it? I’ve got some ideas.”
He gets goosebumps along his back. I pretend not to notice.
“I really don’t mind,” he shrugs. “I’m happy for you to do what you like. I trust you.”
God help me.
“Okay then,” I smile. “You can be surprised.”
I get to work, the air between us thick with unspoken tension.
He’s quiet, but I can feel his eyes on me.
He smells clean, and that familiar scent of wood and spice.
I can feel the heat radiating off his skin as I move around him, fingertips brushing his scalp lightly as I trim.
Each time I pass in front of the mirror, our eyes meet.
He holds my gaze just long enough to make my stomach flip.
The scissors make quiet, rhythmic snips, and the bathroom is filled with nothing but the sound of metal and breath. My breath. His breath.
I try not to let it distract me. Try not to think about sitting in his lap, kissing him, threading my hands through his hair just for fun.
The chemistry between us crackles now that I’m touching him. The electricity is real.
I tell myself to work faster—but instead, I slow down, savouring every moment I get to be this close.