This excerpt from Just Wait For Me has been edited for posting here. A haircut for a Highlander...
They reached the bedchamber, and he sought something to distract his lady. The bathing alcove’s curtain hung open, and his gaze lit on the table containing a bowl, razor, and scissor. He should look his best when arriving in Jillian’s future time.
“Lass, might I ask a favor?”
“Would you be so kind as to trim my hair and shave my beard? I could summon a ghilllie, but would prefer your gentle touch.”
That put a smile on Jillian’s lips as he intended. “I’ve often done the same for my brother. His hair and beard have never been quite as long as yours though.”
“So you cannot handle this mess,” he teased.
“I think I can manage. Sit.” She shoved him onto a chair near the grooming table. He dropped the plaide from his shoulder and tugged off his leine, tossing the garment aside, his chest bared to his lady.
She arched a feminine brow. “You sure you only want a haircut?”
“Aye. And much more later.” He winked.
Jillian smiled and slipped nimble fingers through his hair, kneading the scalp, sensitizing the flesh with the tips of her nails. He leaned into the sensual touch. A thrill spiraled down his spine, pooling low in his gut, making him want so much more. He choked on an abrupt intake of breath.
She laughed, well aware of her effect on him.
Perhaps he did want more sooner. He hadn’t meant for her to incite his sexual desires so quickly, yet his ploy had worked. His lady’s sweet chuckles lightened his heart. She nae longer seemed overcome with fearsome thoughts of the sheriff. Stephen shifted his weight on the chair. Would be hard to sit still with her so close, with her touch driving him mad, but he would make the effort to keep a rein on his urges for her sake. Besides, dragging out this moment of intimacy would make their lovemaking all the more urgent and fulfilling later.
Jillian detangled his hair then picked up the scissor. Stepping close, one leg positioned between his legs and the other to the side, her gown brushed over his thigh. He felt her warmth as she moved in tight and cut a lock of hair. She dropped it to the stone floor then moved in snug for another snip. Breasts at eye level, he could do naught but stare. He moistened suddenly parched lips. Her husky laugh made him harder. Needier.
Clip. Clip. Hair dropped to the floor at his feet. With each snip, she moved, rubbing against him, causing pleasure-pain, driving him to the edge of tolerance.
“Are you okay? You seem to be breathing quite hard.”
“I am fine,” he gritted through clenched teeth. His desire for her would be the death of him.
She trimmed his hair and then beard, taunting him with each swish of her hips. When finished, she set the scissor aside and collected the container of soap with brush. She moved behind him out of sight. Then she stepped in close and cushioned his head against her bosom.
The lathered soap prickled bare skin and softened his whiskers. When Jillian put the blade to his throat, he inhaled sharply.
“I’ll be careful. If you hold still, I won’t cut you.”
“I dinnae fear such. It is just…” He searched for the right words to explain his feelings, yet fell short. “You have come to mean much to me, lass. I thank you.”
Jillian blushed. “And you mean much to me.”
Their gazes held for a heartbeat, and then Jillian proceeded to work on his beard. The rasp of the blade, her scent, her heart beating so near, her body moving against his, left him breathless. The intimacy of the moment touched him deeply, softened his heart. Life with Jillian would be good. Days and nights filled with tender love.
When finished with the task, she handed him a cloth and set the razor on the table then stood away, appraising her handiwork. “You look like a modern man.”
He shot her a grin before wiping his face and tossing the cloth aside. “Come here.”
She sidled close, and Stephen wrapped his arms around her waist determined to offer gentleness this night. He guided her onto his lap. She leaned against his chest, dropping her head onto a shoulder. She remained quiet within his embrace for several heartbeats.
“I’m scared,” she murmured.
“I ken. Dinnae fash yourself. We will get through this.” He brushed her lips with his—a whisper-soft kiss.
A heavy knocking at the door startled them both, and Jillian jumped away, alarm returning to her beloved features.