"Watching you." Seth Sinclair's lips parted slightly as he uttered two words with a straight face.
"Your hair isn't even dry," Lianne Lianne said, glancing at his short, jet-black hair. The texture was incredible; it felt so good to the touch.
The last time she'd run her fingers through it was just last night.
He had pushed her slender, pale legs apart, pressing them against the sofa's armrests.
The man, usually a neat freak, had leaned down over her.
The light from the floor-to-ceiling window was dim. The shifting sensations had bewitched her, making her fingers tighten in his hair.
It suddenly occurred to her that Seth Sinclair had dried her hair many times, but she didn't think she had ever done the same for him.
"Let me dry your hair."
Lianne Lianne closed her laptop, stood up, and went to get the hair dryer.
