But then he closed the distance between us, wrapped one arm around my waist and brushed his free hand through my hair, saying, “I like it.” It took me a minute of blinking at him while he studied the black cherry strands tucked over my ear to figure out what he meant. “Oh! Yeah? Really? I wasn’t sure—” “Yes,” he growled. I stared up at him as my belly flipped over. Heat spilled over my shoulders and down my spine. I could feel the warmth flooding my face. “I thought about changing it back.” “Don’t,” he said, skimming his fingers through my hair, over my cheeks. “Don’t change it. Unless you’re
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