I thinkmy dick might actually fall off. How long can one person go without sex before that becomes a real concern? I’m being dramatic, I know, but these past two months have been rough. And not just because I have not stuck my dick into anything other than my fist, but because a little piece of my life is missing.
Okay, a big piece.
Isabel and I have fallen into a comfortable routine. For the most part, I think she’s doing okay. I work all day, finishing up jobs to fill the time between when Salacious needs me. She teaches each night. The only time we really see each other is when she walks in the door at nine after she’s closed up her studio.
We make small talk, eat something together, and then crawl into her bed, where I hold her against me until she falls asleep—sometimes crying, although not as much anymore.
I’ve only seen Hunter twice at the club, and we didn’t speak to each other. It was in passing as I was fixing the lock on one of the doors. I can only imagine the whole Salacious crew is onto us, although if they’re curious, they haven’t asked me.
And from what I know, he’s only been checking in with Isabel over the phone. She hasn’t seen him at all.
I know how hard his absence is on me—I can only imagine how much harder it is on her. The holidays are quickly approaching, and our patience is running thin. He needs to make a move soon, before we all lose our minds.
It’s a late Sunday afternoon when I come in from the gym, tossing my duffel bag at the bottom of the stairs and heading toward the kitchen, when I hear sniffling upstairs. I pause, my hand on the banister as I listen in the silence to see if my ears were playing tricks on me. Then, I hear it again.
Fuck.
Taking two steps at a time, I bound up the stairs and follow the sound until I’m standing in the doorway of the master bathroom. My mouth is hanging open as I stare at Isabel. She’s standing in front of the mirror, tears streaming over her cheeks, and her hair about two feet shorter than it was this morning.
“I just wanted a change, but I hate it,” she sobs.
Her normally long, bright copper hair is now stacked in loose waves around her shoulders. I’ll admit the change is jarring, and it’s taking some getting used to, but it’s still fucking gorgeous.
“Umm…” I stammer, and her face squeezes in anguish as she starts to cry again. Fuck, I’m bad at this. I’ve never been in a long-term relationship in my life. And suddenly, I was thrust into one two months ago.
I wasn’t ready for all of this domesticity. I used to kick girls out before dawn, and now my towel is hanging from the hook next to hers and my clothes are no longer sitting alone in their own closet. This whole thing is very new to me.
“Don’t cry…” I say, going toward her with open arms. “You look beautiful, Iz.”
She lets me hold her, but her heart’s not into it. “You’re just saying that. You hate it.”
“What?” I snap. Then I spin her so she can see herself. “Look at that stunning woman. Yes, the change is different, but you’re fucking crazy if you think you don’t look hot as fuck right now.”
Her shoulders slump. “What if he hates it? What if he misses my long hair?”
The pain in her voice radiates, slicing through me. I can’t stand it. I need to fix it.
Leaning down, I open the bottom drawer, rifling through the random things Hunter left behind until I find what I’m looking for. I knew he had one. Quickly, I pull it out, along with its long black cord. As I plug it in, she watches me curiously.
Checking the settings, I set them to something in the middle—nottooshort. Then, I quickly flip it on and run the clippers along the middle of my head.
Isabel lets out an ear-piercing shriek. “Drake! What are you doing?” she cries as most of my golden blond locks fall to the floor.
“It’s just hair, babe. And I just decided that I need a change too. So…let’s both look different when he comes back.”
Her hand is pressed over her gaping mouth as she watches me buzz the length from my head. I can’t remember the last time my hair was this short. It was before Isabel was around, so this is all she knows. It’s not buzzed down to the scalp; I left a few inches. And I love the way it feels as I run my hand over it. Refreshing and light.
It only takes me a few minutes to get it all, and when I have as much as I can, she helps me with the back. Finally, we’re left with a mess on the floor and two entirely new people staring at their reflections.
Her tears have dried, and I catch her actually cracking a smile. “I like it,” she says.
Looking in the mirror, I assess the damage. Not bad. I think I like the longer hair more, but the change feels good.
“Yeah, me too.”
Our smiles begin to fade as we stare at each other, and as her expression grows in hunger, I try to stifle down the lust that’s starting to build inside me. I won’t cross that line with Isabel, not without him.
But with the way she’s looking at me right now…