Page 20 of Bossy Wicked Prince

“Tap water’s fine for me,” I offer. While Nate tries to figure out the icemaker, I reach back to undo the low knot I wear my hair in for work. It takes a ridiculous number of bobby pins to get my rebellious hair to stay put, and I still end up with loose strands and flyaways. But even when all the pins are in a small pile on the kitchen island, my hair is still tangled near the base of my neck.

“Something wrong?” Nate asks, finally setting down my water.

“Just my necklace, stuck in my hair,” I grumble.

“Can I—” he offers, stretching out a hand.

Wait, is he really offering to untangle my necklace?

I nod and turn around, showing Nate my knotted hair. “It’s really stuck in there. It’s okay if you can’t get it out.”

He grunts, staring at the back of my head like he’s coming up with a game plan. When he finally touches me, it’s surprisingly careful, more like he’s defusing a bomb than untangling hair. He sorts through strands of my hair slowly, sweeping the untangled ones over my shoulders. I guess it makes sense that a serious guy like him is so…methodical.

Then his fingertips brush against the nape of my neck.

I can’t stifle my gasp. His fingers are rough and warm, and a brief touch is enough to give me chills. “It’s still tangled.” Nate’s warm breath sweeps across my skin, and my chills vanish as my skin turns hot. I haven’t had a man like him stand this close to me since…

Who am I kidding? I’ve never met a man like him before, someone so handsome and imposing. I can still sense the heat from his body as he hovers behind me. My chest feels too tight, my skin all prickly and sensitive. I’m all too aware that I’m trapped, with the counter on one side and his hard body on the other.

Ugh, I shouldn’t even bethinkingabout his body. Obviously, he’s good-looking, yes. But he’s off-limits, for about a thousand reasons. He’s friends with my boss. I’m staying in his house. He’s cold, serious, grumpy, and completely wrong for me.

It’s just been a long, sucky day. My apartment was broken into, and my rent money is gone. Of course my imagination is making too much of an innocent gesture, just because it’s the first thing that’s felt good all day. I grit my teeth and stare at the immaculate hardwood floor.

“Got it,” he breathes finally.

He reaches around me, dropping my gold chain on the counter in front of me. I expect him to walk away immediately. Instead, he runs his fingers through my hair, unraveling my tangled curls. He’s just being thorough, surely. He wouldn’t be looking for an excuse to stay close to me, the waitress he gave a pity ride home.

Just hours ago, he was shit-talking my apartment. Now that I’m standing in his palace, it’s just a reminder that we’re from completely different worlds. He’s from Planet Gorgeous Billionaire Grump, and I’m from reality. I’m sure he doesn’t even clock me as a romantic option.

Then his nails scrape against my scalp in a way that feels sinfully good. Before I can stop it, a small moan escapes my lips.

Oh, shit.

What am I doing? He’s going to think I’m hitting on him! I brace myself for a brusque-but-polite talking to about how he’s not interested, thanks.

Nate only pauses for a moment. Then his hands start moving again, combing through the tangles until my hair's cascading smoothly down my back.

When he’s finished, I turn around to look up at him. He’s so close, I could touch my nose to his open shirt collar if I leaned forward a few inches. His broad shoulders completely block my view of the living room behind him, giving me the sense that the apartment is shrinking around me.

Pushing us even closer together.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He makes a low hum of acknowledgment. There’s nothing more for me to say to him, but I don’t want to be the one who ends the conversation.

I mean to look him in the eyes, but when my gaze travels up from his collar, I find myself stuck on his lips. They’re masculine and well-sculpted, but I wonder if they’re soft to the touch.

My breath catches. I’m not seriously fantasizing about kissing him, am I?

I glance up, and I see his silvery eyes are half-lidded. His pupils expand, darkness pushing out the light.

He’s thinking about kissing me, too.

Isn’t he?

He’s too hard to read. I have no idea what’s going on in his head. I just know that our bodies are inches apart, and it feels suspiciously like we’re having amoment.

Maybe, just for a minute, I can let myself forget that he’s Nate Walsh, the security scion. I can pretend he’s just an ordinary guy who wants me.