Chapter 33 #2
“Who have you worked with?” Ariana sounds interested.
Melissa lists off actors, bands, and at one point, a singer that makes Ariana’s face flicker with awe. I don’t recognize many of the names, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve been demoted to Melissa’s assistant as the two chatter away excitedly about the singer’s latest album.
The redhead touches up Ariana’s hair color with the remainder of the box dye. She doesn’t appear as offended by that as she was by the haircut. “Here.” She pulls Ariana’s hair to the front, smiling proudly as the woman leans forward in her chair, eyes widening at her reflection.
“I love it,” she sounds amazed. “I look like myself again.”
Melissa winks at me. It’s a seal of approval for Ariana. “Since your hair is naturally wavy, the layers won’t be too high maintenance. Give me your number, I’ll text you some hair oil recommendations. How long have you been bleaching it? It’s a bit damaged, girl.”
“For almost ten years.”
The redhead’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Okay. No more of that for a while.” She holds out her phone for Ariana to punch in her number, calling it after so the brunette has hers too. “Sick. Let me know what you think of the albums I suggested too.”
The three of us help her pack her kit, and I walk Melissa out.
“She was bad,” she drags out the end of her sentence.
My head snaps to her, outraged. “What the hell’s your problem?”
The younger woman rolls her eyes. “Bad as in good looking. A baddie. Out of your league, buddy. Tell her to text me.”
I bid her farewell, returning to the bathroom. Ariana’s doing her best to clean the sink. It’s an uphill battle, the entire room looks like it’s been hit by a hurricane. She looks up as I enter, grimacing.
“Sorry your shirt didn’t make it out alive.”
I glance down at it, noticing the brown stains. “It’s okay.” Grinning at Ariana, I lower my voice. “Between you and me, this one’s Jason’s anyways.”
She laughs lightly at this. “It’s on your arms too.” I’m not sure how I managed that one. Abandoning her futile attempts to gather the fallen hair, she comes close and points out spots I missed.
I nod along, paying attention to her face instead. Her hair’s been blow dried and styled for her, framing her face. It’s as if the color’s been poured back into her features. Ariana’s brown eyes look more doe like than ever, matching the rich brown locks. It brings out the pink dusting her cheeks.
My hand rises of its own accord, brushing my knuckles against her throat. She shivers at the touch, lips parting as she looks up at me. I forgot omega’s necks tend to be sensitive.
“Sorry,” I apologize hushedly. “There’s a bit of dye here too.” Despite her hair being washed twice after the color’s application, there’s still smears on her skin.
Running a hand through the ends of her hair, she nods. “Yeah. I probably need to take another shower.”
“Me too. I’ll go grab you a towel.”
“Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how long it’s been since I looked in a mirror and felt this happy. The blonde and long hair, they were great, but they weren’t me. This,” to my surprise, she gives me a light hug. “This is me. Thank you, really.”
“Of course. Anything for you.” I hug her back. “Now, that towel.”
Shutting the door behind me, I fetch one from the linen closet quickly. Running back to the bathroom, I open the door only to freeze.
Ariana’s pulled her shirt off, standing facing the shower topless. She shrieks in surprise as I enter, arms going over her chest. Feebly, I realize the shower is running.
Holding a hand in front of my eyes, I panic. “I’m sorry. I should have knocked.”
“No, I should have locked the door. I completely forgot. I’m sorry.”
“It’s my fault. I’ll just set the towel here and go.” Averting my gaze is pointless, the image is seared into my memory. It takes a great deal of self control to turn away. Before I do, I can’t resist speaking to her one more time. “You have dye on the back of your neck, by the way.”
“I do?” With my gaze lowered, I can see her smooth, long legs move as she twists, trying to look for it. “Where?”
“Do you want me to show you?” The question comes out before I can think about it. I wouldn’t want the dye to stain. It’s dark and may have been on her skin for more than an hour.
There’s a pause, and then Ariana says. “Okay.” I have a suspicion she nodded in that pause, before realizing I can’t see her.
Hesitant, I stay in place. “Can I come closer?”
“Yes.” The answer comes quietly, but swiftly.
With my hand still covering the majority of my vision, I close the distance between us. Drinking in the sight of her back and the milky skin, I raise my other hand.
“Here,” I press my pointer finger delicately onto her neck, right below the nape. I drag it down the faint streak, touch still feather light. It lingers there for a moment, and then I let it fall back to my side. “Make sure to wash that off.” I turn around, making my way back to the door.
“Do you want to help me?”
I stop in my tracks. Did I hear that right?
“It’s kind of an awkward spot for me to reach.” Ariana mumbles.
I’m not imagining things then. I swallow. I did say I would do anything for her. If she needs help…
I spin on my heel, swallowing. “Of course.”
Her arms fall from her chest, stepping out of her pajama pants as well. Unblinking, I watch the smooth motion with intense concentration. Mentally, the image of the line of her back and her curves file away, saved for later. She steps into the shower without a word.
Under the stream of one of the shower heads, she turns around to face me. I hold my breath, transfixed by the sight. Ariana’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Her hair falls over her shoulders, curling slowly under the stream.
My eyes travel down greedily, along her thin neck to her slender shoulders. And further down still, to where her breasts swell. Her body narrows at her waist, then flares again enticingly at the hips. There’s a short ring of brown curls above where her thighs meet.
And then her arms raise, beckoning me closer. Captivated, I step into the shower after her like she’s a siren luring me into the water.
“Have I ever told you you’re stunning?” I snap my eyes back to her face.
The omega makes a faint sound of amusement. “Feel free to say it more often,” she says jokingly.
“You’re stunning.” I press a kiss against her forehead lightly. “You’re stunning.” I place another against one check, then the other.
Water cascades down her face, clinging to her long, dark eyelashes. Her big brown eyes stare up at me invitingly. My eyes land on her lips, the ones I’ve been thinking about for far too long.
“You’re stunning,” I repeat reverently, leaning down slowly, giving her time to decline. Her eyes flutter shut and she tilts her head up in answer.
Finally, I press my lips against hers. Not hungrily like I want to, but enough to taste her. She doesn’t taste like chocolate icing or chamomile either, but the touch is sweet and delicious regardless. We pull apart quickly, looking into each other’s eyes.
I trace over her parted lips with the tip of my finger, resting my thumb against the soft pink flesh. “Let’s wash your hair first.”
Ariana nods, passing me the shampoo bottle. She turns to face the shower head, letting me admire her back.
I work the shampoo into her hair gently, my fingers threading through the wet brunette strands. The color looks even richer now, slightly darker when wet. My fingertips massage her scalp in slow circles, and she makes a soft content sound.
“Feel good?” I ask quietly.
“Mhmm.” She leans her head back into my touch, her eyes closed.
I take my time, working the lather through every strand. The water streams over her shoulders, and I guide her back under the spray to rinse. My hands follow the path of the water, smoothing down her hair, making sure every bit of shampoo is gone.
I repeat the motions with the conditioner, putting in as much effort the second time. I reach for the soap next, rubbing my palms together. Satisfied with the lather, I start with her shoulders. I message them steadily, working out the knots and tension.
My hands glide up to her throat, focused on the smear of dye stubbornly sticking to the back of it. Slowly, I move my hands to the sides. When my fingers brush against the mating mark sitting reddened against her skin, Ariana inhales sharply.
“Is this okay?” I murmur, movement halting.
“Yeah,” she responds immediately. “Keep going.”
I pause for a moment, then slide over her shoulders, slickened with soap and water. Her skin is impossibly soft and warm under my touch. Softer than I ever could have imagined during late nights alone.
I work slowly, methodically, sliding my palms down her arms and back up, then across her collarbone. My fingers trace the delicate line of it, and I feel her pulse jumping beneath my fingers.
I glide my hands down her back. My hands span the small width of her shoulder blades, then slide down the elegant curve of her spine. She arches slightly into the touch. I move to her side, bringing both hands up her waist, then down again to the flare of her hips.
Steam rises around us, as thick and warm as my pistachio scent has become. It mixes in with the sweetened chamomile, making me dizzy in the confined space of the shower.
My hands travel to her front, running against her stomach and further up still, until they rest on her ribs. They rise and fall under my touch as the omega breathes.
“Can I?”