Title: Reckless Temptations

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EXCERPT

“Lauren,” he protested as I pulled the hat off his head. “Shit,” he ground out.

“What the hell is this?” I demanded, moving the hat out of his reach as he tried to take it back.

“My barber got mad at me,” he tried to cover, offering me his smile, knowing I was a sucker for it. But it wouldn’t work this time. He usually wore a hat but the few times he didn’t—I loved Riggs’ hair. It was the perfect length to run my fingers through, and even though I hadn’t done it all that often, if ever, some asshole with a razor robbed me of the chance.

“I hope you didn’t tip him,” I replied, playing along with my handsome…friend.

I hated that.

More today than yesterday and even more tomorrow.

He leaned back against the couch cushions and lazily stared back at me, watching as I cocked my head to the side to inspect the damage. I noticed the numbers shaved into his hairline and ran my fingertip along the fuzz, tracing the two, then the five and finally the zero.

“I can fix it,” I said, turning back to meet his gaze. “Make it all even for you,” I explained.

“Florence Nightingale is a hair stylist too?” He questioned, as his hands ran down my sides, playing with the hem of my shirt.

“I’m a jack of all trades,” I replied, brushing the hair away from his face. “What do you say?”

“If I say yes does that mean you’ll get off my lap?”

I nodded, holding back the frown that threatened my face—that was kind of a dickhead thing to say.

“Then, no,” he said, treating me to a wink.

And there he went being sweet again.

I smiled widely at him, prying his hands off my hips and climbed off him.

“I promise to sit on you when I’m done,” I said, pausing mid stride, knowing he was sitting there with a smirk on his face. I chanced it anyway and glanced over my shoulder to see his lips quirk.

“A promise is a promise,” he warned.

“I said I’d sit on you,” I called, as I fished through the drawers for a pair of scissors. “I didn’t say what part of your anatomy I’d choose,” I joked.

“I’m just going to throw it out there—I’ve had a killer day and could use a little loving,” he hinted.

“Yeah? And?” I said, plucking the scissors from the drawer and turning around.

“And I’d really like if you sat on my face,” he pointed out.

I should tell him that’s what I wanted too, just to shock the shit out of him but my poor Tiger had had a rough day so I went easy on him.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, pointing my finger toward him. “Don’t go anywhere,” I warned, narrowing my eyes at him.

He held up his hands in mock defeat and I figured it was safe to grab a comb from the bathroom but by the time I found a comb in the cabinet under the sink, his body was hovering over mine.

“Jesus, Riggs,” I croaked.

“Since you’re giving me a haircut I thought it’d be easier if we did it in the bathroom,” he suggested, as he sat on the toilet seat. He moved his arms and cringed as he drew the zipper down his sweatshirt and worked it down his arms.

I gasped when I saw the large red marks that covered his body and reached out to touch them but he grabbed my hand and I diverted my eyes to his. He shook his head.

“They’re not there,” he started. “Ignore them,” he continued, throwing his shirt onto the counter before spreading his legs and pulling me between them, locking them around me. “How ‘bout that haircut, Kitten?”

I swallowed, reaching across the counter for the spray bottle and misted his hair so it was wet, then ran my fingers through what was left of it. I heard the groan rumble low in the back of his throat, encouraging me to thread my fingers through his hair again, this time I tugged the ends and tilted his head back so he was looking up at me.

“Keep your head straight,” I instructed, positioning his head so he wasn’t looking up at me anymore and looking straight ahead. I ran the comb through his wet hair, snipping here and there.

“How was your day?” He asked after a few moments.

“Uneventful, until you came home,” I replied.

“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to start staying here with you,” he said hesitantly.

“It’s your place, Riggs,” I reminded him. “If I get in your way—”

“Cut it out, Lauren,” he clipped, interrupting me and tilting his head upward to look into my eyes. “I want you here,” he added.

“Okay, then,” I whispered, cupping his chin with one hand and forcing him back into position. “Stop moving,” I ordered.

“Are you always this demanding?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I teased.

“Yeah, I think I would,” he answered immediately.

I ignored the comment, learning that reading too deep into Riggs would only hurt me. He was unattainable and the more time we spent together, the more he consumed my every thought. I was going to suffer a major heartache—his name was Riggs.

I continued to cut his hair in silence, willing myself not to look at the marks on his skin and happy that some of his tattoos covered the grueling red lashes. I ran my hand over his hair, checking each side to make sure it was even and there was no trace of the number some asshole decided to put on his head.

“I think we’re done,” I said, inspecting the crew cut he was now sporting.

“Thank Christ,” he hissed. “I don’t know how much more I can take,” he stated.

“Anxious?” I asked, taking a step backward so he could glance in the mirror. He didn’t move. He didn’t get up or turn around to look at his new hair style, instead he stared at me.

“Had your nipples saluting me for the last twenty minutes, Kitten. I really appreciate the no bra thing but not when I’m horny as fuck,” he rasped.