When An Alpha Purrs
By: Eve Langlais“An hour? I don’t suppose you could fit me in earlier somehow. I’ve got a business meeting this morning, and I’d really rather not go looking like this.”
Amber eyes begged her. She hesitated. Those eyes were way too seductive. She wished she could look away. Not give in.
But…
Technically, she could cut his hair now. She had the key to the shop. The only problem was no one else had arrived yet.
Did she dare let him in and cut his hair, alone? In other words, did she trust herself with him?
Am I seriously being such a coward? She really needed to take back some control over her hormones. She wasn’t some giddy teenager who fawned over a boy. She was a woman, who knew how to handle herself with the opposite sex. She was also very well acquainted with the word ‘no’.
She could resist his charm, and besides, it wouldn’t be as if she would be alone with the big guy for long. Her uncle would meander in shortly, not to mention there were wide plate glass windows and people passing on the sidewalk.
Witnesses in case her hands thought to betray her again.
But what of her safety? Perhaps the flirting was a ruse. Perhaps his whole apology was to get her to lay down her guard.
While they spoke, the sidewalks had begun to fill up as people started their day.
If the big guy meant her ill, there would be witnesses.
However, glancing at his expression, which bore smoldering interest but none of the fury she recalled, she didn’t get the impression he wanted to hurt her. At least not in painful ways. On the contrary, the hand that held hers, which he hadn’t yet relinquished, stroked a thumb over her skin.
Do it.
Don’t do it.
Her mind was split, but there was really only one choice. Kira wasn’t one to usually pussy out. The man had swallowed his pride and apologized. The least she could do was help him out.
“Come in and I’ll see what I can do.” And by that, she meant do his hair, not do him.
Why did her spirits deflate at the thought?
He finally relinquished her hand, only to rub his thumb across her cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate this.”
Ack. No, not the dimple. If she’d not caved before, she would have now as he unleashed the most devilish smile of thanks.
She forced herself to turn away. With shaking hands, she used the key and let them into the shop.
As she bustled around flicking on the lights, turning the sign to open, and pulling her hair items from the sanitized bag they were placed in by the cleaners, she tried to ignore him.
Not easy. He just seemed to consume the space of the room. No matter where he moved, she was intensely aware of him.
He hung up his outer jacket, revealing even more of his upper body. The dress shirt, made of a silk she could never hope to afford, molded to his chest and thickly muscled arms. He loosened his tie as he moved with a slow swagger to the barber chair.
He seated himself without prompting and proceeded to watch her in the mirror.
I should have made him wait. Too late now. She’d have to cut his hair.
A smile lurked at the corner of his lips as she fumbled the protective vinyl cape around him.
“I make you nervous,” he stated.
Yes! “No. If you’re talking about the clumsy hands, I’m still waiting for my caffeine to kick in,” she lied.
For distraction, she plucked the hat from his head and winced as the shorn spot glared at her. She threaded her fingers through his silky locks, trying to see a way she could camouflage whilst keeping his preferred style. Alas, she’d trimmed a little too much. A part of her dreaded giving him the only option he had to fix it. She doubted he’d like her answer. “If I’m going to blend it, then we’re going to have to cut it pretty much all off.”
To his credit, he didn’t erupt, although his face tightened, and she might have imagined a mournful meow, which made no sense since the shop didn’t have a cat. Lazy, hairy things.
“Do what you must to my hair. I trust you.”
The words shouldn’t have sent a shiver—the erotic kind—down her spine, and yet they did, every word he uttered so sinfully sexy with his low baritone.
She resolved to cut only what she had to, and while he wouldn’t sport a long, golden surfer mane by the time she was done, he’d look good. Better than good.
