Isaac cried out in surprise at the sudden rush of feeling and arousal slamming into him like a freight train, eyes comically wide as his knees buckled. Slumping against the wall, he gazed up at the approaching figure, pleading with his eyes as he let out a pitiful little whimper.
She poked him. “It took me ten years to get it this long. You don’t have that kind of patience! Anyway I love your curls.”
“Yeah? And I love your hair — it’s beautiful and I’ve never seen anyone with hair like it,” he murmured and twirled some strands in his finger.
Smugly, she said, “I know.” Picking up a handful of the end, she poured it over his face, grinning. “You always turn my compliments back on me.”