by Maren Smith
I manage a smile. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Just covering my own ass, sweetheart—the book is full today. Now take those, drink your coffee, and touch up your lip gloss. I have a new client for you this morning.”
“Why would I have to touch up my…” I frown. “Rox, are you trying to fix me up again?”
She grins, twirling one of her bright auburn curls around her finger, a habit of hers. “Well, it’s as much Skye’s fault as mine.”
I roll my eyes as I turn to walk down the length of the salon. The long, narrow space is punctuated with sleek gray salon chairs, and the white-painted brick walls are hung with stylish black-and-white photography.
Roxy follows me, of course.
In the back room where we mix color, I stick my leather bag in a lower cabinet, then straighten to face her. “Okay, tell me, I guess.”
“Why are you so resistant? It’s been more than two years since—”
“For good reason,” I say flatly.
Roxy lays a hand on my shoulder. “I know, honey. But look, this man is a friend of Skye’s Sir, Adam, so he has to be a good guy.”
“And a Dom?”
Just saying the word makes butterflies flutter in my stomach but I ignore them. My last relationship nearly ruined kink for me. In fact, it ruined relationships for me, and none of my friend’s matchmaking has ever changed my mind. Of course, Skye and her Dom, Adam, are good people, but another kink dynamic is the last thing I’m looking for. A little play at the clubs at some point? Probably. At some point. But anything more than play? Not in the cards for me.
“Yes, he’s a Dom, and a good one with an excellent reputation,” Roxy says firmly. “I don’t really see you ever developing a relationship with a vanilla guy.”
“I haven’t even met him, and it’s a relationship already? Come on, Rox.”
Turning, I make my way back to my station and start pulling out my scissors and combs, setting them on a tray. Roxy comes up behind me.
“All I’m saying is, meet him, see if you like him. That’s it.”
I blow out a breath, catching her blue-eyed gaze in the mirror. “That’s it?”
She grins again. “I hear he’s hot.”
“Then why don’t you go for him?”
“You know I’m a switch. And apparently he’s a total Top—it would be a permanent power struggle. Anyway, I’m happy enough with the subbie boys I’m playing with at The Power Plant. You know, you could come to the club with me sometime. It’s been ages.”
“And you know I’m done with the club scene for now. With any scene. I’m not ready. So why you and Skye want to fix me up with some super-Dom, I don’t know.”
“Because you’ve been alone long enough. And you’re kinky as fuck, Noelle. We don’t ever really lose that, even if it changes forms over time. And this guy? Skye says he’s a good man, an amazing Dominant who really knows his stuff. He’s just moved here to San Francisco from LA so he can go into business with Adam flipping real estate. You know Adam wouldn’t trust just anyone—to go into business with, or to date you.”
“I just don’t know…”
Roxy reaches past me to slide open the top drawer at my station and hands me a tube of lip gloss. “Do this, anyway. Just in case. He’ll be here any minute.”
“Crap. Okay, okay.”
I take the tube, lean into the mirror and swipe a little berry-tinted gloss over my lips. Straightening up, I fluff my long brown hair, thinking I need to get Rox to recut my layers and touch up my gold highlights soon.
“You look gorgeous, as always,” she assures me.
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“Yes, but if he’s as hot as Skye says he is, you’ll be glad you primped.”
I wave my arms at her. “Go get your own station set up, Rox, and leave me be. I’m a big girl. I can manage this situation on my own.”
“Okay, I’m going, I’m going. But you can thank me later. Oh, and did I mention he’s an experienced Daddy Dom?”
“That’s the last thing I need, Rox!”
“That’s exactly what you need, my friend,” she calls over her shoulder, then greets her first client with a wave as he comes in the door. “Hi, Clark, come on back.”
Shaking my head, I move to the front desk to look over the appointment book, but before I can see what the client’s name is, the bell on the door jangles…and there he is.
Jesus.
The breath leaves my body for a moment as I take in all six-foot-something of him. His dark hair has a few silver streaks, and there’s a sexy layer of stubble over his cut jawline. His features are all sharply-drawn, except for his mouth, which seems almost too lush for his face. His gauged ears and leather jacket give him a definite bad-ass aura that contrasts with the elegant way he holds himself, which is something that always makes me melt—that kind of contrast, when you know there’s something dark and delicious beneath a polished exterior. But it’s his eyes that really capture my attention. They’re shifting shades of blue and green, framed in long, black lashes, and intense as hell.
But that’s not why I feel light-headed. It’s because I recognize those eyes.
Kane Crawford.
He smiles, and I realize I’m trembling a little.
Get it together, girl.
“Noelle?” His voice is a smooth, deep rumble I remember clearly, despite the fact that it’s been over three years, nearly four. “I’m here to see you, apparently.”
“I’m…I had no idea it was you. I mean someone I already know. Roxy never told me your name.”
“You remember me?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
How could I ever forget? We met at a club in LA when I was visiting friends there. They’d told me he was an excellent Top, and boy, they weren’t kidding. That was one of the best—oh, hell, let’s be honest—the best night of pick-up play I’d ever experienced. There was something about the way he always kept one hand on me while we played, even while he switched out toys, the way he stared into my eyes during closer play that made me feel so connected. I remember telling Roxy afterward that the play, the power of that connection, had been transcendent. And afterward, he wrapped me in a blanket and held on to me, did everything in his power to make sure I was okay. Which should be standard aftercare for any Dom, but often isn’t. And there was something about the way he held me, the way he talked to me, that made me feel safe and utterly protected. I’ve never forgotten that feeling, even if I don’t remember exactly what we talked about. It was a perfect night, one I knew I’d always remember. But the next day I flew home to San Francisco and figured I may never see him again, which was probably a bit foolish, given how small the kink community is.
“It’s nice to see you, Noelle. Very nice.”
He offers his hand, and I take it. His palm is wide and warm, and I feel that sharp zing of chemistry. It’s impossible to ignore, although I try.
“Do you mind cutting my hair? It’s okay to tell me if this makes you uncomfortable,” he says.
He pulls his hand back slowly, and it feels like a caress.
“No, no, it’s fine. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll go get a cape for you.”
I head toward the back of the salon to pull a dark gray cape from the shelf. When I return to my chair, he’s sitting there with his long, black denim-clad legs sprawled out in front of him, a motorcycle helmet and his black leather jacket in his lap. And Lord, he’s wearing big black motorcycle boots. Black boots make me swoon. I have a feeling he never wears anything else.
“Um, sorry. Why don’t I hang those up for you?”
“Thank you,” he says, handing me the helmet and jacket.
He’s watching me closely, probably looking to see if I really am okay with him being here, and that actually puts me a little more at ease. Not everybody in the kink community is that cautious about verifying consent, which is unfortunate because consent is huge for us and it tends to apply to every aspect of our lives.
When he nods, I open the cape and drape it around his broad shoulders, snapping it on the side of his neck, trying not to breathe in the earthy, dark scent of him. It’s then that I notice the sleeves of his maroon button-down shirt are rolled up, revealing his tattooed and beautifully muscled forearms. I remember those tattoos. I remember those arms.
Pull yourself together.
Standing behind Kane, I ask, “What would you like me to do?”
He’s silent for what feels like forever because he’s caught my gaze in the mirror. His eyes are every bit as watchful and intense as I remembered, the colors shifting moment by moment.
“I like it buzzed pretty short on the sides and in back,” he says, finally, “but leave it longer on top.”
I take a deep breath before putting my hands in his hair, trying the texture. It’s a necessary part of cutting anyone’s hair, but now it feels almost perverted. His hair is thick and has a little curl to it. Thick and strong, the way his incredible forearms look.
“Um, do you want a fade? Or even all the way down the sides?”
“What do you think would look best?”
The question surprised me. I would have expected a Dom to simply issue instructions.
“I think maybe just a little shorter than it is now, kind of just clean it up. Looks like you had a really great cut.”
“I’ve been going to the same guy in LA for years. I was glad Adam said he knew someone good here.”
I pull my clippers from a drawer and plug them in. “Roxy—she owns the salon, and she’s friends with Skye and Adam—mentioned you moved here recently?”
“I did. I bought my house here months ago, but the remodel wasn’t done until last weekend. I just moved in.”
He’s right here, in my city now. If this had been four years ago, when we first met, before the year from hell I went through, that would make him irresistible.
He may still be.
Nope. No, no, no.
“Ah, where in the city?” I ask.
“I bought this beautiful Queen Anne Victorian on Baker Street, right by Buena Vista Park. I found a guy who specializes in painting historical homes, so it took a while to get the job done, but it’s incredible. He really preserved and highlighted every detail. Well worth the wait. And…I don’t mean to bore you with my love of architecture.”
He flashes another devastating smile in the mirror. God, the man is gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. Every nerve in my body is coming alive, my fingertips hyper-aware of his silky hair, and I can’t help but wonder what the rest of him would feel like. But I know the touch of his hands, and my body remembers their roughness and their gentleness, and wow, I’m more heated up than I ought to be before cutting someone’s hair.
Down, girl!
“It’s fine,” I say, trying to keep my voice and my hands steady as I comb the longer hair on top and start to trim the ends. “I love the old buildings in this city. It’s been a dream of mine to own a Victorian since I moved here.”
“From where? I don’t think we had much of a chance to talk before, other than negotiations.”
I try desperately not to let my cheeks flush, but I can feel how warm they are.
“I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?” He glances around, as if to confirm that no one is close enough to hear our conversation. “We don’t have to mention our…previous connection again.”
“No, it’s fine. I mean, it would be kind of silly to pretend we hadn’t met. And Roxy is my best friend and a fellow kinkster, which you may know from Skye and Adam. She knows everything about me.”
“Alright, then. Tell me,” he says.
Does he know it sounds like a command?
“Well, I was raised in Santa Cruz, just down the coast. I moved here right after college, and that’s when I met Roxy. She kind of showed me the ropes here, and I’ve loved San Francisco ever since.”
“I’m loving this city already. Not that I haven’t visited, but living here is an entirely different experience. It’s a much faster, relentless pace in LA, and I was ready to get out of there.”
I glance at his reflection in the big mirror, and I swear I see a shadow pass over his eyes, but it’s gone so quickly, maybe I imagined it.
“Okay, I’m going to cut the sides now,” I tell him, “and once that’s done, I’ll go back in and finish shaping the top.”
I move the clippers over the sides and back of his head, forcing myself to stay focused, although something about the bits of silver in his hair is incredibly distracting.
Didn’t Roxy say he was a Daddy Dom?
Don’t go there.
I’m nearly done when Roxy finishes with her client and comes over.
“You must be Kane. I’m Roxy, Skye’s friend.”
“It’s good to meet you. Nice place you have here.”
“Thanks. The salon is my baby. So, what do you think?” she asks, gesturing to his hair.
He looks in the mirror, running his fingertips over one side, then the other, and once more, I can’t help but remember what his touch feels like. There’s something so innately sensual about the way he moves—his hands, the way he handles a flogger…
I shiver before I can stop myself.
“It looks great.” He catches my gaze in the mirror. “You did a really good job.”
“Oh, I…thank you.”
Why does this simple compliment feel like an affirmation? Like it’s important? Why does it make me feel such a sense of pleasure that goes far beyond one of my clients liking what I’ve done to their hair?
Roxy loops an arm around my shoulder. “She’s very good at what she does. I hear you are, too.”
He arches one dark brow. “Oh?”
“Adam was telling me about your house, and about the two properties you’ve invested in together. He said you’ve done nothing but work since before you moved up here.”
“It has been a little hectic. I’ve hardly seen anything of the city.”
“Maybe Noelle could show you around? She’s an excellent tour guide.”
“Is she?”
Roxy gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Trained her myself.”
“Um…thanks for the reference, Rox. I think.”
What the hell is she proposing? I am so going to rip into her later.
Kane gets to his feet, slipping the cape from his shoulders, and I take it from him.
“How about it, Noelle?” he asks. “Are you up to show me your beautiful city?”
“Oh, I—”
“She definitely is,” Roxy says, giving me the tiniest push in his direction before walking away to greet her next client.
His gaze is locked on mine, and it’s even more intense face-to-face than it was in the mirror. I remember this look, as if he’s focused only on me, as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist, and it’s powerful as hell. His whole presence oozes power, and it’s increasingly difficult to remind myself I’m not interested in that kind of power anymore—not after what my last experience with a powerful Dominant did to me.
“You don’t have to agree to anything you don’t want to—you know that,” he says. “But I’d really like it if you’d show me around. Do you work on Sunday?”
“The shop’s closed on Sunday,” Roxy comments as she walks past us with her next client.
“Sorry about her,” I tell him. “She can be nosy.”
“In this case, I don’t mind.” He takes one step closer, making me pull in a breath. “Especially if it means you’ll let me pick you up this weekend. But don’t worry—I’ll bring my car. I wouldn’t want to mess up your gorgeous hair with a motorcycle helmet.
“Actually, I love motorcycles—I wouldn’t mind at all.”
“Why don’t we leave that for the next time? We can talk more in the car than on my bike.”
“Oh. Okay, sure.”
Next time?
&n
bsp; He hands me a business card in sleek silvery-gray card stock with black lettering.
“My cell number’s on there. You can text me your number and your address, and I’ll pick you up around ten on Sunday. Then you can show me your favorite spot for brunch.”
I take the card. Yep, this guy is a total Dom, telling me what’s going to happen, rather than asking. And as much as I want to resist that pull, the undeniable subbie in me is responding like crazy. It’s even harder to keep a clear head when my body already knows his touch, that lethal combination of roughness and tenderness.
“I’ll text you my info after work. And I guess I’ll see you on Sunday.”
He puts his hand out in silent command, and I extended mine automatically. His strong fingers wrap around mine, and there’s something in his grip that makes me feel…safe.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
He walks out, and I simply stand there for several long moments before Jasper, one of the other hairdressers, arrives at the salon.
“What’s gotten into you, girl?” he asks. “You feeling okay?”
“What? Yes, sure. Just a hangover,” I answer absently, my gaze still on the sidewalk outside even though I can no longer see Kane.
“Really? Because I’d bet it was that hot man who just left. Am I wrong?”
“Jasper!”
“Am I?” he pushes.
I blow out a breath. “Okay, no you’re not wrong. But it’s…nothing.”
“Girlfriend, by the way you’re blushing, I’d say it was a big, strong, hot nothing.”
I sigh. “He is hot, isn’t he?”
“Damn right he is. And he radiates straightness, which is a real pity, but you need to go for it.”
“I’m going to see him on Sunday, actually.”
“Good for you! It’s been too long—”
“Oh my God, does everyone have to remind me of that?”
“Just remember, if you don’t use it, you lose it.”
I wave him off. “Go get your station ready, Jas.”
Jasper flashes a grin. “On my way. I need to touch up my pretty lavender roots before my first client arrives”
Once our client schedule quiets down, I grab Roxy and pull her into the back room.
“Rox, did you know that I already know Kane?”
