Something Good

By: Agentalana

Chapter 1

Sawyer was starting to feel like he was sitting in an electric chair, nervously awaiting his doom.

"Well, come on Delilah… chop, chop!"

Retrieving her weapon of choice, his executioner took position before her prey and mocked his anxiety, "don't worry Samson, you'll still be a bad ass, just less of a hairy beast, well less hairy anyway."

That didn't seem to sweeten his sour state, but just as soon as Kate stepped into the space between his sprawled out legs and began to intently study her task at hand by rhythmically running her tiny fingers through his freshly washed hair, he turned into sweet tea and homemade cookies.

"I don't know Freckles, I'm feeling kind'a weak already" he mumbled from the dreamlike state into which she was lulling him.

She stopped stroking to bait him into more playful banter, and was fairly certain she could successfully flirt with him 24 hours a day if her life depended on it, "hair-cut fetish huh? Good to know…"

He pried open his eyes at the loss of her touch, looking up into her clearly delighted and amused face, he was determined not go down without a fight, "so you ganna braid it or cut it?"

Aw, who the hell was he kidding; he's helplessly sitting in a chair, held captive by a wisp of a woman, holding delicate scissors; yeah, he's totally whipped.

She cocked a defiant eyebrow, held up a huge chunk of his hair in the front and whacked off a good two inches, and dramatically let it fall before his face. He would not be bullied, and he would not miss out on a little one-on-one quality time with his lady love, even if he had to shave his head as damage control later.

"Not much of a mullet man, hope you plan on cutting the rest," he said flashing his dimples and signature smirk.

And with a grin of response she went to work, circling him, creating a sphere where only the two of them existed. Her presence was intoxicating, and he his eyes were magnetically drawn to her the entire time, memorizing her every move, every detail, every curve, every scent.

She began her serious assault from behind, so he watched her through the bathroom mirror, fighting the urge to have his way with her, right then and there, on the bathroom counter, every time she ran her fingers through his hair to asses the damage.

He loved the way her brows would furrow into a frown while she bit her lower lip in concentration.

And he almost lost complete control when she gently blew the excess hair off the back of his neck; he must have been wearing his wayward thoughts on his face because he got a playful whack on the back of his head in return.

"Hey, don't punish me because your mind is in the gutter sweetheart," he half-heartedly defended himself.

Truth be told, her self-control was fading fast, and she was putting off attending to the front of his head as long as possible. The heat radiating between them was melting her to the core, and his intense stare focused completely on her was not helping one bit. Damn those dimples!

Luckily, she was well skilled in keeping her cool under high stress situations.

Getting lost in her task, she barely noticed as she moved before him to de-mullet the sexy southerner between her legs; that is, until he startled her by softly running his hand up her inner jean covered leg. Holding her ground and trying to sound stern she breathlessly warned, "Be careful, or you'll end up with a Mohawk."

He just grinned in satisfaction, over the obvious effect he has on her, and went back to starring a hole through her pretty little head.

But she was done all too soon, before he had the chance to fully unnerve her, "one… last… snip… and there, all done, what do you think?" She asked with genuine anxiety, hoping he'd at least be nice even if he hated it, but she knew the odds weren't in her favor.

He stood up slowly, making a grand show of his serious inspection, doing his best to make her squirm.

"Well?" she begged after an agonizing minute.

At her desperate desire to please, he surrendered a gloriously dimpled grin, "I like it, I think you missed your calling, instead of whacking guys you should have been whacking hair!"

So naturally, she whacked him hard on the arm, "that was my cover, so be careful or you might loose more than hair next time!"

"Yes ma'am…" he stopped mid-comeback when she started to play with his hair again, fixing it just right, then here eyes moved from his hair to his lips, "well, I'm glad you like it," she breathlessly attempted, "it looks good."

"Yeah, good," he helplessly agreed as the magnetic force seemed to shove their bodies and lips together.

Good. Finally, something good.