say something I'm giving up on you

“You have the same effect on me,” he whispers, and kisses me once more. I smile, and inside my joy unfurls and stretches lazily.“Do I?”He smirks. “You know you do.”“Sometimes I know. Not all the time.”“Back at you” he whispers.I grin and gently place feather-light kisses over his chest. I nuzzle his chest hair. He caresses my hair and runs a hand down my back. He unclasps my bra and pulls the strap down one arm. I shift, and he tugs the strap down the other arm and drops my bra on the floor.

“Hmm. Skin on skin,” he murmurs appreciatively and folds me in his arms again. He kisses my shoulder and runs his nose up to my ear. “You smell like heaven.”

“So do you.” I nuzzle him again and inhale his  smell, which is now mixed with the heady scent of sex. I could stay wrapped in his arms like this, sated and happy, forever. It’s just what I need after a full day of back-to-work, arguing, and bitch slapping. This is where  I want to be, and in spite of his control freakery, his megalomania, this is where I belong. He buries his nose in my hair and inhales deeply. I let out a contented sigh, and I feel his smile. And we sit, arms clasped around each other, saying nothing.Eventually reality intrudes.“It’s late,” he says, his fingers methodically stroking my back.“Your hair still needs cutting.”

He chuckles. “That it does.Do you have the energy to finish the job you started?”“For you anything.” I kiss his chest once more and reluctantly stand.“Don’t go.” Grabbing my hips, he turns me around. He straightens then undoes my skirt, letting it drop to the floor. He holds his hand out to me. I take it and step out of my skirt.Now I am dressed solely in stockings and garter belt.“You are a mighty fine sight.” He sits back in the chair and crosses his arms, giving me a full and frank appraisal.I hold out my hands and twirl for him.“God, I’m a lucky son of a bitch,” he says admiringly.

“Yes, you are.”

He grins. “Put my shirt on and you can cut my hair. Like this, you’ll distract me, and we’ll never get to bed.”I can’t help my answering smile. Knowing that he’s watching  my every move, I sashay over to where we left my shoes and his shirt. Bending slowly, I reach down, pick up his shirt, smell it—hmm—then shrug it on.His eyes are round. He’s redone his fly and is watching me intently.“That’s quite a floor show.”“Do we have any scissors?” I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes.“My study,” he croaks.

“I’ll go search.” Leaving him, I walk into our bedroom and grab my comb from the dressing table before heading to his study. 

“ I could look at you all day.”He shakes his head exasperated.“It’s just a pretty face, baby.”“And behind it is a very pretty man.” I kiss his temple. “My man.”He grins shyly.

Lifting the first lock, I comb it upward and snare it between my index and middle finger. I put the comb in my mouth, take the scissors and make the first snip, cutting an inch off the length.He closes his eyes and sits like a statue, sighing contentedly as I continue. Occasionally he opens his eyes, and I catch him watching me intently. He doesn’t touch me while I work, and I’m grateful. His touch is . . . distracting.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m done.

“Finished.” I’m pleased with the result. He looks as hot as ever, his hair still floppy and sexy . . . just a bit shorter.He gazes at himself in the mirror, looking pleasantly surprised. He grins. “Great job.” He turns his head from side to side and snakes his arm around me. Pulling me to him, he kisses and nuzzles my belly.

“Thank you,” he says.“My pleasure.” I bend and kiss him briefly.“It’s late. Bed.” He gives my behind a playful slap.“Ah! I should clean up in here.” There is hair all over  the floor.