Just a Hair Stylist - Chris Evans story \\✔️

Chapter thirty

In the morning, you woke up slowly. Stretching under the sheets and twisting your wrists in the air,

you were roused by the quiet sounds of Chris running water in the bathroom. A minute later, as you

tiredly rubbed the sleep from your eyes, Chris opened the bathroom door and came back into the

bedroom. You jumped, when the t-shirt in his hand whipped you in the ass.

"Son. of a. bitch!" you complained, covering a hand over your butt to protect yourself from any

other further attacks.

You didn't have to worry though, because that laughing bastard was already pulling his shirt

overhead and tugging it down to the waist of his jeans. Chris came over, bending down to kiss an

insincere apology on your temple. "Mornin', babe," he smiled.

You smacked the back of your hand into his gut, as you rolled off your side, scowling at him. Chris

let out an exaggerated 'oof' and clutched his stomach, as you said, "Ya bastard."

Chris put a knee down into the side of the bed, lowering himself to sprawl over you with a heavy

sigh. "Grumpy," he called you, nestling his head to hang off your shoulder.

You managed to wiggle an arm free from underneath him and wrapped it around him to lay over

his back. "You'd be grumpy too, if someone snapped you in the ass with a shirt first thing in the

morning," you assured him. "What time is it, anyway?"

"A little bit before 8," he answered, turning his head to plant a lingering kiss on your lips. When he

pulled back, he told you, "Josh'll be here in a little while to do some work. So, you should probably

put some clothes on." His brow wagged up, a little playful but a tad stern, as he added, "No free

shows."

You laughed, palming your hand over your eyes in embarrassment. "Like I run around here naked

all the time," you scoffed.

"I wouldn't be complaining if you did," he mentioned, his teeth lightly scraping and nipping at your

jaw before he pecked a kiss to replace the bite.

"With these ginormous windows everywhere?" you quipped, waving your hand toward the wall of

glass at the end of the room. "Fat chance."

"Nobody sees in the back of the house," he promised, trailing kisses into the crook of your neck,

while his hand fumbled blindly at the edge of the mattress, looking for a way under the covers.

Well, at least you hoped nobody saw into the back of the house. Because, after he said that, it

occurred to you that the curtains had never once been drawn whenever you two had fooled around

at his place. And the lights weren't always off at night when you did either. And don't forget the

times you've changed clothes in there.

"I thought you said, Josh will be here soon," you reminded him, wiggling underneath him and

yelping at his cool hand on your covers-warmed skin, when his fingers found their way to your