Free No One Like You by Kate Angell Page B

he wasn’t sure Beth could squeeze in to shave him.
    Somehow she managed. She stood beside him at the sink and dampened a dish towel. “Can you tilt your head back, just a little?”
    He had good balance and made the adjustment.
    She went on to gently place the cloth beneath his nose and under his chin. “Too hot?” she asked, concerned.
    Steam rose like a sauna. He didn’t complain. “I’m fine.” His voice was muffled beneath the towel. He closed his eyes as the heat penetrated his skin, softening his whiskers. The warmth felt surprisingly good.
    She removed the cloth after several minutes. Moistened it once again. Wringing it out, she primed his skin for a smooth shave, repeating the process four times.
    He heard the slide of her socks and the slight shift of the dogs as she stepped back so he could relax. He liked the fact she wasn’t a woman who hovered or made small talk. He was comfortable with silence. He was half asleep when she removed the final cloth.
    His thoughts drifted to his Uncle Theodore. Old-fashioned shaves were his specialty. He mixed his homemade lather in a porcelain bowl, applied it with a badger-hair shaving brush, and then scraped off the stubble with a stainless steel straight-edge. Theodore had a steady hand and immense patience.
    “Do you shave once or twice a day?” she asked him.
    “Twice most days.” He had a heavy beard.
    “My dad enjoyed a facial massage,” she said reflectively. “He had little to look forward to at the end of his life. I took extra time with his shave.” Her touch was warm and gentle; her application focused. She pressed her fingertips to his temple and massaged slow circles between his hairline and eyebrows. After tracing the inner corners of his eyes and the side of his nose, she moved to his earlobes and the rims of his ears.
    Ry appreciated the same attention. His ears were sensitive. He held back a moan.
    She next stroked his cheeks and chin. He grew so relaxed, his jaw went slack. The gentle slide of her thumbs down his neck was soothing.
    He peeked at her when she leaned across him and snagged the tube of shaving cream. He side-glanced down on his dogs. Atlas followed Beth’s every move. The four had tightly trapped her between the counter and his stool.
    She pressed fully against him.
    Her breast brushed his shoulder.
    His elbow nudged her abdomen.
    Her hip touched his thigh. All warm and womanly.
    He forced himself to sit still and not shift—which took a concentrated effort. He reminded himself that she wasn’t his type. That wouldn’t change.
    Beth was a little shaky, Rylan noticed, when she squeezed a small amount of shaving cream onto her palm and then slowly rubbed her hands together. He again shut his eyes, letting her know that he trusted her.
    She applied the shaving cream up and down his face and neck. The aloe vera scent was clean and refreshing. His face was soon covered with thick, creamy lather.
    He heard her turn on the tap at the sink, then listened as she rinsed off her hands and picked up his razor. She used the fingers on her non-shaving hand to pull his skin taut near his sideburns. He inwardly tensed, and hoped it wasn’t outwardly noticeable.
    Beth wasn’t fooled. “I promise not to take off an ear,” she whispered. There was humor in her voice.
    He couldn’t help but smile. The movement of his mouth had him tasting shaving cream. The gentle brush of her thumb along his lower lip removed the excess lather. There was an inexplicable intimacy to her touch. Electric seconds of awareness passed between them. His palms prickled. He clasped his hands over his groin, making sure his zipper was covered. He avoided tenting.
    He sat perfectly still with her first downward slide of the razor. He was impressed. Beth knew what she was doing.
    She used long, light strokes, rather than pressing down into the skin. Her method was as good as his uncle’s. She shaved over the same area twice, rinsing the blade with warm water between