Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

strides by, her face glowing. She gives me an excited nod as she finds a spot between stations to watch.

Okay, so she doesn’t care.

Good sign.

On reflex, I look at the mirror and into Aidan’s gorgeous eyes and then I look away like I’ve been burned. I’m heating up with nerves. Not only do I have the attention of everyone around me, it’s Aidan’s attention that leaves me fumbling.

Calm the hell down, I tell myself. It’s okay.

But it’s not okay, because I’m looking at the back of Aidan’s head, knowing I have to touch him. I have to run my fingers through his hair as I cut it.

“What would you like done?” I muster out.

“Do what you like, Ivy,” he answers. “I believe in your vision.”

I want to roll my eyes.

His hair needs a cut for sure, but I can tell he has had it professionally done from the best of the best. He doesn’t need the vision of a hairdresser in a mediocre salon (sorry Connie) in the middle of the city.

“Liar,” I whisper. “You’re just here to throw me off balance, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, a smile in his voice. “I was on an innocent walk and happened by this random salon.”

“Right, and you happened to know I work here.”

“It was a lucky guess.”

I relax at his playfulness. “If I fuck up because of nerves, it’s your fault.”

“Noted.”

“You’ll be showing up at the office looking like Buzz Lightyear.”

“I’ll even play the part,” he says, cheekily adding, “To Infinity and Beyond.”

“Very smooth, Mr West.”

His smile fades when I call him by his name. His eyes heat as they focus on me. There is a solemness in his expression that sends goosebumps over my skin.

“So,” I let out, clearing my throat. “Do you need a wash? Delilah is really good with her hands. She’ll give you the scalp massage of your life.”

He’s still looking serious when he replies quietly, “If they’re not your hands, then no.”

I swallow, knowing I shouldn’t do what I’m about to. I mean, I don’t even have the bloody time to do this, but…

“I can give you a wash, Mr West.”

Fuck me, why did I have to sound so breathless? Acting thirsty is unbecoming of me, but this is Aidan West we’re talking about here. He’s so fucking hot, I’d lick every inch of him if I could.

I lead him to the shampoo station on the other side of the salon. He is moving so close behind me, I can feel his heat. I seat him and fumble with the salon gown like I have two left hands. I gently wrap it around his neck, breaking out in shivers when my fingers brush his smooth skin. Even though eyes are still swinging wildly in our direction, it’s quieter here.

“Lay back,” I direct him, my hands moving to either side of his head.

He reclines back so his head is hanging over the sink. I stand over him, extremely aware that he is staring at me intently. I dread the kind of point of view he is getting right now. It can’t be too flattering.

I test the water, finding the perfect temperature. The second I bring the water to his hair, his eyes shut and I’m back in safe territory. I run my fingers through his hair, lightly dragging my nails over his scalp. His shoulders relax as I find the perfect pressure. I’m careful not to spray his face, but I come close when I find myself looking over his face. His sharp jawline, his straight nose, his lips…Jesus, his pink lips are plump and beautiful, and they almost kissed me not too long ago.

I have to go, he had said. I rushed it.

Just remembering those words, the pained way he’d said them, makes my chest tighten with indescribable emotion.

His eyes suddenly flicker open, meeting mine. I should look away, but I stare down at him like I’m staring into his soul. I feel a light touch along the side of my leg, and I tense. I don’t have to look to know he’s running his hand along the length of it. It’s the lightest stroke, like a feather touching me, but my entire body is laser focused to the feeling. His eyelids lower as he watches my expression. My lips are parted, and my head is dizzy. I feel like I’m roasting on the inside. My body shivers in response, and he feels it.

Heaven help me, this man is dangerous.

He drops his hand and shuts his eyes again like he’s satisfied. Like he’s just gotten a hit of a drug and is complacent for now.

But I’m not satisfied. I’m feeling needy and hot. I take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand. I squirt shampoo into my hand and begin to wash his hair in a trance. Then I follow it up with conditioner. His cologne is wafting to me, masculine and delicious. He makes a soft sound when I press a little harder into his scalp. He likes the medium pressure, I note. I massage him in small circular motions, dragging out deep sounds from his throat.

“Is that good for you, Mr West?” I quietly ask, eyeing the way his lips have parted now.

“Ivy,” he returns, a smirk forming on his lips, “if your hands are this good on my scalp, I imagine they’ll be good everywhere else.”

I bite my lip to suppress a smile. “I’m afraid you’re not paying for anywhere else, Mr West.”

“Fucking hell, Ivy,” he lets out, sounding pained. “If all it takes is money, take every cent I own.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” I tease, but my voice doesn’t sound as playful as I hoped.

I rinse out the conditioner and fetch a towel. I start to wrap it around his head. As he begins to sit up, I feel his hand again at my leg, the smallest touch running up the back of my knee and lower thigh. I still and shut my