Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Keira
After dinner and cleaning up the kitchen, Dean went upstairs for another shower. I tried really hard not to imagine him naked under the spray of the water. But it was way too easy to picture, since I already knew what he looked like naked and all.
I’d taken a shower right after we came in from training, so I paced around in my bedroom, waiting for him. Maybe he’d change his mind and decide we shouldn’t do this after all.
But no. Dean appeared a few minutes later, dressed in sweatpants and no shirt, a towel draped over his shoulders collecting the water droplets from his damp hair. My heart stuttered.
My gaze was desperate to drop to that hollow between his pecs, like it always did when I was watching him run the obstacle course. But I managed to refrain.
“Brought these.” He sheepishly held up some scissors, a cordless clipper, and a comb. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“We’ll work it out,” I said, portraying a confidence I definitely didn’t feel. “Come into my studio.”
I’d set up a dining chair in front of the dresser, which had a mirror. I’d also laid out a painting drop cloth underneath.
Dean sat down, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. The rifle round on his necklace sat between his collarbones. He never took that thing off.
I adjusted the towel, spreading his hair out. Then carefully combed through, pulling it back from his face. The strands were slippery.
Dean made this low sound in his chest, almost a grunt, but it didn’t sound like he was in pain. His eyelids had gone half-mast.
This was the best excuse I’d had in a while to touch him. Dean and I had spent just about every day together since I’d moved in, but it wasn’t like this. My hands on him and his heavy eyes on me in the mirror.
Focus, I told myself. This isn’t a thing. Just cut the man’s hair. The silky, damp hair that was now tangled in my fingers and leaving my skin wet…
Ungh.
Grabbing the scissors, I gathered the length of Dean’s hair into a ponytail and cut it. “There goes a bunch of it. No going back.”
He smiled in the mirror. “I don’t want to.”
The strands were above his chin now. “How short do you want it? A fade on the sides, longer on top?”
“That works. But I think it should be drier before we use the clippers, right?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I thought you didn’t know how to do this.”
“I’ve given myself trims. I like having your help though. If you still want to do it.”
“I do.” I shrugged. “You do a lot for me, after all. Letting me live here. Spending months on this mission with me.”
“I like doing things for you, Keira.”
Why was it suddenly so warm in this room?
My chest was tight as I dried his hair with the towel.
I grabbed the clipper next and switched it on. Moving the clipper upward, following the contours of his head, I managed to get lost in what I was doing.
Finally, after trimming the longer layers on top, I said, “What do you think?”
He was looking at me instead of his hair. “Best haircut I’ve ever gotten.”
“That’s nowhere near true. It’s decent. I mean, I think you look great, but—”
“Yeah? You do?” There was something in the tone of his voice. All husky and deep. My stomach spun.
He did look good. I could see the lines of his face better. His eyes. The skin of his neck was all pink, contrasting the brown tone of mine, and I wanted to dip my head and kiss him there.
“Yep.” The word shook on its way out. “It’s good. There’s hair everywhere. Better get this cleaned up.”
Dean grabbed the vacuum to help. Once we’d tidied up, he still stood in my room. Shirtless. Hands on his hips just over the waistband of his low-slung sweats.
And I realized what a mistake I’d made.
Dean with that long, messy hair had been hot. But with this style, short enough to show off the undeniable handsomeness of all his features? He had nothing to hide behind now, and the way he was looking at me was naked with desire.
I’d told him there would be no more kissing.
I’d told myself we were just friends.
But a girl could only take so much.
I stepped closer to him, and my fingers met his stomach. Walked their way up the ladder of his abs. Then I pressed my palm flat to one round pec over his nipple, which made me gasp.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. But there was no way I could stop.
“Keira,” Dean groaned.
My lips found his jaw and brushed over the rough stubble there. His arm closed around my waist, drawing me right up against him. Our bodies met like we were dancing, except the way we were breathing was so much more intense. We panted like we’d both just run Dean’s obstacle course.
Like we were already making love.
He was warm, and he smelled like soap and himself, and I wanted him to surround me. Blot out the rest of the world like my own personal eclipse. That was how much space Dean took up in my head and my heart.
But when I lifted my chin, he was looking away from me.
Dean took my hand from his chest and pressed a kiss to my palm instead of my lips. “I want to, but I can’t,” he rasped. “I’m sorry.”
When he backed toward the doorway, I didn’t stop him. Then my door clicked shut, and he was gone.
I fell back onto my bed, the mattress bouncing under me. “This is so bad,” I muttered, covering my hands with my face. “Why did I do that?”
I’d made things so much more awkward between us. He wanted me, but he wouldn’t let himself have me. It broke my heart that Dean was so hard on himself.
But this was probably for the best. I could already tell if Dean and I did wind up in bed together, there’d be no coming back from it.
I’d had a couple of boyfriends in my life. I wasn’t a virgin. But since the day I’d met Dean, I had barely looked at another guy. I hadn’t been with anyone in so long that I’d forgotten what actual sex was like, not that my few sexual experiences were anything to brag about.
This wasn’t a dry spell. More like a dry era.
If I finally had Dean in my bed, he was going to ruin me forever for anyone but him. But what the hell? Maybe I wanted to be ruined by Dean Reynolds.
There was a knock at my bedroom door.
“Keira?” a rough voice said on the other side.
Leaping up, I reached for the bedroom door handle. Then paused. My heart thumped a chaotic rhythm.
When I yanked the door open, Dean was there.
He stood with one arm braced against the frame. Sweats hanging below his hip bones. His chest and stomach on display, like before. There were a couple of tiny stray hairs on his shoulders from the haircut.
He’d just been here moments ago, but still. The sight of him stole my breath.
“I thought you went upstairs,” I said.
“I meant to. But I’ve been standing out here.” His blue eyes were guarded, but heat and want showed through.
“Why?”
“I couldn’t leave.” He took a step toward me across the threshold. I moved back the same distance to let him inside. “I’m not a good man, Keira.”
“You’re you. That’s all that’s ever mattered to me.”
He brought his hands to my face. “Tell me to stop.”
“Never,” I whispered.
“You’re sure you want this? Want me?”
Yes, yes, yes, my heart shouted. My whole body wanted to shout it. “I am. I do. What about you?”
“I’m sure I’ll lose my fucking mind if I don’t have you.”