Chapter 39
Niki
Graham stares as I pace my hallway. Rosie isn’t due for another half hour. I should leave her be, but my thumb hovers over the call button.
I must cancel the haircut. I can’t cope with how she’ll react when she sees my scars. She’ll freak out.
I grit my teeth.
Rosie’s the only one who’s seen them since Connor and Senna witnessed them during a video call a year ago from my Greek villa. But Rosie saw them in the dark. I’d thought that Senna and Connor wouldn’t react, but I can’t forget their horror. Rosie might do the same.
And she might cut me while trimming my hair.
Could I get another infection?
Graham whines and waddles to me as I crumple onto the ground.
He lays his head against my arm as tears brim my eyes. I’ve barely slept at the idea of someone touching my scars. Rosie is a good person, but this is a side of myself I’ve not shared with anyone.
Scruffs of hair itch my neck as Graham sits in my lap. I tried calling her earlier, and she cancelled it. She’s fed up with the anxious boss who won’t leave her alone.
My doorbell goes, but I don’t answer it. Graham’s love is the only thing grounding me.
The doorbell goes again, and a tear slips down my cheek.
I don’t want anyone to see me like this.
“Please go away,” I whisper.
I lean my head against Graham and cover my ears. I thought I was better, but everything I’ve achieved over the last months is a lie, because I’ll never be okay.
I’ll be scared and broken forever.
The scent of soap and honey fills my lungs. It accompanies Rosie’s touch. She lifts my hands gently off my ears.
“Niki, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
My tears fall in big drops. Staring at her concerned eyes as Graham licks her and cuddles me, I realise my anxiety has played me. She won’t freak out about my scars. She’s here for me. Of course she is. She’s a freaking angel.
I sit on a chair in my bedroom with Rosie beside me, her body close enough to give comfort.
“You want me to shave it? Not trim or anything else?”
“That’s all.” I hold my cap against my head like it’s my safety blanket. “Shave it so I won’t need it cut again for ages.”
I can’t remove the cap.
She shrugs off her zip hoodie and pulls things from her bag, eventually tipping the contents onto my dresser. My shoulders hunch, and I fiddle with my brim. Rosie walks to Graham and gives him a stroke and a treat. He snaffles it before returning to his slumber.
She’s giving me time, but there isn’t enough time for me to be okay about revealing my scars.
I close my eyes and take a breath. I can’t smell her soap. I need something to relax me. Her body bumps my knees, and I open my eyes to gaze at her.
“Niki, from everything I’ve learnt about you and from the kiss in your car, you need to be in control of a situation to help you with your anxiety. When you were in the crash and then in the hospital, you lost your control, so you moved to a Greek villa.”
“Because of the germs,” I stutter.
“Are you sure that was all? You controlled your environment. You secretly like it when I call you sir. You like doing nice things for me, and you need things to be in a certain way. It makes you feel good to have these aspects of control.” She doesn’t sugarcoat her words or soften her voice.
My counsellor suggested the same, especially when I told them how I used to enjoy power play in sex.
She adds, “When we kissed at the aerodrome, you carried the energy of a man who dominated the car and showed me what he was capable of.”
“What are you getting at?”
I need her to say it, because as she stands in front of me, her legs pressing against mine, her hips close enough for me to grip, I need her words.
“I want you to control this haircut. I want you to control me.”
My throat dries. I swipe my lip with my tongue, but it doesn’t do anything.
“Do you want to be in control of me, sir?”
“We can’t. We shouldn’t.” But I want it.
“It’s just a haircut,” she says huskily. “Do you want to be in control of me, sir?”
I nod, all the fight from before leaving me. I shouldn’t want this with her. There’s a sexual edge neither of us can embrace fully, but there’s also the chance to have control in a situation where I feel like nothing.
“How shall we do this? Where shall I start?”
Desire courses through my limbs, replacing terror, and I pull my shoulders back. I grit my teeth and tighten my abs. I move my arms to my side and fist them.
The anxiety is still there, but her suggestion temporarily overwhelms it.
“Niki?”
I lock her stare. “Please remove my cap.”
She does and places it on the bed. “And now?”
“I’d like you to stand behind me and start shaving. I want my hair short but with a generous buzz cut, so the guard needs to be on a two.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
A murmur that sounds a lot like pleasure leaves her parted lips.
She runs the back of her fingers across her chain and walks behind me.
I’d hoped Rosie would be into the games I used to play during sex.
I shouldn’t consider that, and yet the fantasy of her on her knees returns like a flash of lightning.
“Will you tell me if it hurts?” she asks softly.
Her fingers run through my hair, and I will my dick to calm. At her featherlight touch, I close my eyes, struggling not to groan. My body’s saturated with need.
“You can’t hurt me.” She could hurt my heart, but I’m not sharing that sentiment.
“You have such beautiful hair. It’s a shame to see it go.”
If she were in my bed, promising to run her fingers through my hair every day, I’d keep it. Her touch sends shivers across my neck and a shot of electricity to my dick. I imagine scenarios of Rosie in my bed: soft and gentle, each caress thought out as I sink into her.
The whir of the clippers fills the space, and she places the handheld machine against my skin. I hold my breath as chunks of hair fall to the ground. The arousal doesn’t go, but seeing my hair fall and losing the itchiness that’s dogged me for weeks helps me focus.
As she reaches my skin and my scars, I hold my breath.
“You’re in control of this.” Her warm breath dances across my neck, and her lips brush my ear. “You’re in control of me.”
“Is that what you’re into?” I cover my mouth. “Scrap that. I didn’t ask it.”
She leans closer and whispers, “I imagine I would be with you.” I gulp, and she adds, “But this isn’t suitable professional chat.”
Her fingertips travel across my scars, but I don’t pull away. The temptation to palm my dick through my joggers has me folding my arms. I swallow loudly.
She hasn’t freaked out or gasped about my scars, a gift she doesn’t understand the wealth of.
I’m disappointed when it comes to an end, although as soon as she’s gone, I’ll wrap my hand around my dick and think of her.
But then I remember where she’s going tonight. She’ll be dancing with men who only need to spend five minutes in her presence to realise she’s perfect. I grit my teeth.
She walks around to look at me. One of her eyebrows quirks as she tidies the front of my hair. Her body leans over me, her breasts close enough to my face that I’m desperate to rip her T-shirt off her and feast on her nipples. I shift in my seat.
She’s taken me from tears to intense arousal. She has enough in her life without me complicating it, yet I want to bend her over my bed and show her the man I used to be.
She turns the clippers off and stares at her handiwork before grabbing a mirror and my cap. “What do you think?”
I grin at my reflection, although it’s partly because she’s peeking over the mirror, smiling as she waits for my reaction.
“I love it.”
I want to ask her to spend the night in my arms and give me a chance to be the person I used to be as I make her come on my tongue.
She passes me my cap, and I shake my head.
Her beaming smile fills me with a warmth that has me reaching for her.
“It doesn’t scare you to be without it?”
I shrug. “Graham won’t mind tonight. Nothing about me scares him.”
Graham groans and shifts in his sleep.
“What scares you, Rosie?”
Her face drops. I regret my words because I know the answers I want aren’t what I’ll get.
“That I’ll make choices that ruin my daughter’s future.” Her head drops. “Because everything I do is about her.”
She steps away, and I nod. I hate myself for all the fantasies I’ve had about her over the last hour—over the previous eight months since we met. Because where I only have myself to worry about, she’s concerned about someone who relies on her for everything.
“You’re the best mother.” I miss the heat from our connection, but I’m relieved, too. “Is Tabi still having problems with the kids at preschool?”
“You remembered that?”
I nod.
“Yeah. The parents don’t help. Some of them act like I’m beneath them, and maybe their kids pick up on it. My job has helped my confidence, but I’ll never fit in with them. I’m just a former teen mum as far as they’re concerned.”
“You’re an incredible mum and a revelation. You’ve changed my life and brought me back from where I was barely living. Please don’t let them make you feel less.” I stare at her, pleading for her to believe in herself like I believe in her.
“Do you have time for a drink before you go?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“It will give me more time to convince you you’re exceptional and that I should speak to those parents and demand they recognise it.”
She gives me a half smile. “I can deal with them, but thank you.”
My eyes lock with hers. “I’m always here for you.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows slowly. I want to hold her close but also fuck her as she screams my name.
“I’ll make your coffee. Meet me downstairs, okay?”
“Sure. There’s a Diet Coke in the fridge for you. You might need the energy before your night out.”
Her smile over her shoulder makes me blush.