It was like coming home.
She’d needed this. Neither was hesitant, they kissed as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, rather than six weeks. By the time Marshall pulled back, they were both breathing as if they’d just run a mile.
“So?” he asked with a crooked grin.
Kenna reached up once more and ran her fingers through his beard. It was that long. “Are you gonna be upset if I tell you I like kissing you better when you’re clean-shaven?” she asked.
“Nope. In fact, I’ve got the scissors and razors in my bathroom right now, all ready to go. Want to help me?”
Kenna eyed him for a moment. “So if you were already planning on shaving, why’d you ask me what I thought? What if I’d said I wanted you to keep it?”
Marshall shrugged nonchalantly. “Then I would’ve kept it.”
“Just like that?” Kenna asked skeptically.
“Just like that,” he agreed. “I had a lot of time to think about us while I was deployed.”
Kenna scowled at him. “You’re supposed to be thinking about where the bad guys are, and not stepping on one of those explosive bomb things. And how to get home safely,” she scolded.
Marshall chuckled. “I was. But if I thought about that stuff nonstop, I’d go crazy. So when things got to be too much, I thought about us. You.”
Fuck. This man. “And?” she asked.
“And I realized how much you mean to me. Things have been fast with us, but they’ve felt…right. I wondered what you were doing. How you were. If you’ve had a lot of annoying customers, if you were coming over to my condo. If you were eating all right. You name it, I thought it. I know I’m a lucky bastard, and if you can handle my job, me leaving for unknown amounts of time here and there, then I can do no less than bend over backward to make your life easier and full. So…that means if you want me to keep the beard, I will. If you want me to shave, I will. It makes no difference to me.”
“Marshall,” Kenna whispered, extremely touched.
“Don’t cry,” Marshall ordered. “I didn’t say any of that to upset you.”
“Major fail,” Kenna said with a sniff, wiping the tears from under her eyes.
Marshall squeezed her neck, where his hand still held her possessively, and said, “Look at me, babe.”
Kenna took a deep breath and looked up at the man she’d fallen head over heels for. She should’ve known she was in love when she’d missed him so terribly. She’d never felt so much for a man. Ever. She’d gone a week once without talking to one of her boyfriends, and it hadn’t fazed her in the least.
“You’re the most capable woman I’ve ever met. I have no doubt you can do whatever you set your mind to. The fact that you’re with me is something I’ve been pinching myself over for the last six weeks. You’ve got me in the palm of your hand. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”
“You. I want you,” Kenna replied without a second thought.
“Thank fuck,” Marshall breathed.
Kenna was surprised to see the relief in his eyes. How could he not know that?
“Come on. Help me scrape this crap off my face, then we’ll see about getting something to eat.”
Kenna nodded, and he gave her nape one more affectionate squeeze, then bent and picked up the bags she’d been carrying. After he’d oohed and ahhed over the things she’d bought for him, they put everything away and headed for the master bathroom.
Kenna had left some of her things in his bathroom, since she’d been going back and forth from here to her apartment. Nodding toward the counter, where she’d put her toothbrush, toothpaste, and lotion to the side of one sink, he smiled. “I love seeing your shit in here.” Then, looking around the room, he added, “I think the best way to do this is if I sit on the side of the tub. It’ll be easier for you to reach me.”
“But hair will get all over the floor,” Kenna said.
“Yeah, so?”
“So it’ll have to be swept up. Then vacuumed to make sure we got it all.”
“And?” Marshall asked. “We’ll make a mess, then we’ll clean it up. Not a big deal.”
“Okay,” Kenna agreed, liking his laid-back attitude. “But why don’t we at least put a trash can under you to catch as much as we can.”
He nodded, and Kenna grabbed the small plastic trash can from under the sink and put it on the floor between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bathtub.
Marshall then held up a pair of very sharp-looking scissors, handing them to her handle first, and said, “Madam, if you would do the honors.”
“Um, I have no idea what I’m doing,” Kenna said tentatively as she took the scissors from him.
“You can’t screw it up…well, unless you stab me with those. Just hack away at the hair. Get as close as you can to my face. The shorter it is, the easier it is to shave off the rest.”
“Okay, but if I stab you and you bleed out on the bathroom floor, don’t blame me,” she joked as she stood in front of him.
Marshall reached up and took her wrist in a loose grip. “I trust you,” he said solemnly.
Kenna swallowed hard and nodded. It wasn’t as if she was actually cutting his hair in some kind of style. She couldn’t mess this up…unless she cut his face. Mentally grimacing at that image, she took a deep breath, then got to work.
She started with the easy stuff, the hair hanging down from his chin, snipping it off and letting it fall into the bin. Carefully, she cut off more and more of his beard, until she got to a point where she had to put the scissors right next to his skin to get as much hair off as possible.
“Relax, Kenna, you’re doing fine,” Marshall told her.
She nodded, still tense.
It didn’t help when she felt his hands grip her hips. She looked down. “What?” she asked, thinking she’d done something wrong.
“Keep going,” he urged.
Kenna snipped some more hair—and luckily had paused to inspect her work when his hands snaked under her T-shirt and caressed her bare skin.
She squirmed and reminded him, “Ticklish.”
His touch immediately firmed, but she still froze as his hands roamed.
“You done?” he asked, knowing full well she wasn’t.
“No.”
“Well, don’t take all night,” he teased. “I’m thinking we have other things to do.”
And just like that, the mood in the room changed, electrified.
Kenna’s nipples hardened under her shirt, and since they were at Marshall’s eye level, he definitely noticed. His hands slipped upward, pushed under her bra, and cupped both her breasts.
Kenna closed her eyes and moaned as she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, careful not to poke him with the scissors.
“You are so damn responsive,” he muttered as he kneaded her flesh.
“It’s just you,” she said honestly. Kenna couldn’t remember reacting like this to any other man’s touch. All Marshall had to do was breathe and she was putty in his hands.
After a moment, Kenna said his name in almost a whine.
It was his turn to take a deep breath, then he stood, startling Kenna. He removed his hands and reached for the scissors. Then he pulled her over to the counter.