Reckless Harmony Book Six (EBOOK)

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“Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.” Rayna stared at her pale face in the bathroom mirror.

Don’t panic. This is not the time to panic, her inner voice said.

“Are you kidding? This is the perfect time to panic!” she said to her reflection.

Cold air blew against her bare legs, but she didn’t close the window behind her. She’d started off trying to wax in the upstairs bathroom, but it was too hot and steamy from her shower, and she didn’t want to be a sweaty mess by the time she was finished. So, she grabbed the waxing supplies and went to the downstairs half bath, opening the window to keep herself cool. Of course, she was starting to think she should have waxed before she showered, but it was too late now.

She sucked in a deep breath and stared at the wax strip in the sink. Hair and a surprising amount of blood covered it.

“That’s just way more blood than I’m comfortable with,” she told her reflection.

She reached between her legs, skirting past the fabric strip to touch the bare spot she’d just waxed. The tips of her fingers came away dotted with blood, and her labia burned like fire.

“C’mon, you can do this,” she said fiercely. “It’s just one strip. You have to rip it off.”

She gripped the strip of fabric. Gritting her teeth, she yanked at the strip and screamed again when fresh fire erupted against her labia.

Panting, her eyes watering and her labia begging for mercy, she let go of the strip. It was only halfway off, and she pressed her fist against her mouth to muffle her moans of pain.

Holy fuck. She’d expected it to hurt when she waxed her crotch, but she hadn’t expected… this. It felt like she was ripping off a layer of skin.

“Fuck,” she muttered before glancing at her phone. Why hadn’t she listened to Arianna and not waited until an hour before her date to wax? At this rate, she’d be sitting at the restaurant with a fabric strip of wax clinging to her labia.

She touched the dangling strip of fabric, willing herself to rip off the rest. Her fingers shook, and she gripped the edge of the sink. “Shit. I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Can’t do what?”

She shrieked and whipped toward the open window, grabbing the hairdryer from the counter and raising it over her head like a weapon.

Isaac Stark stared at her through the open window, snowflakes clinging to his dark hair and one thick eyebrow raised. “If you’re going to bash my head in with the hairdryer, turn it the other way. It’s much more effective.”

“What the fuck?” she gasped, her heart knocking against her ribs. “Why are you spying on me?”

“I could hear your screams from my house,” he said. “I came over to see if you were being murdered.”

She glared at him. “You wish. You know, even if I am murdered, my will has specific instructions not to sell my property to you.”

“Shocking,” he said dryly.

“Why the hell didn’t you go to the front door like a normal person?” she asked.

“I did. I rang the doorbell three times. Maybe you couldn’t hear it over your screaming.”

“It’s broken,” she muttered.

“Is there anything in this house that isn’t?” he asked.

“The plumbing works perfectly,” she snapped.

What almost looked like a smile flashed across his face. “Why are you screaming?”

“None of your business, creeper,” she said. “Go away.”

He looked her up and down, and for the first time, she was exceedingly aware of just how naked she was under her very thin, very short, cotton nightgown.

She crossed her arms over her breasts. It was absolutely her imagination that Stark’s gaze had lingered on them, but her nipples were stiff from the cold air coming in through the open window. The last thing she wanted was for Stark to think she was attracted to him.

I think he realized you wanted to fuck him when you licked his damn thumb, inner Rayna pointed out.

“Are you wearing makeup?” Stark asked.

“Yes,” she snapped. “Why?”

“I’ve never seen you wear makeup before. And your hair isn’t…”

She touched it self-consciously. She had taken the time to blow dry her hair and use a straightener to smooth out the slight waviness, and she thought it looked good. “Isn’t what?”

“In a ponytail,” he said.

“I have a date tonight,” she said.

“I remember.” Stark studied the wax pot on the bathroom counter and the fabric strips. “All of this screaming is because of a little waxing?”

“Shut up,” she said.

“You come across as a lot tougher than that, Ms. Abrams.”

“You can talk to me about tough when you’ve waxed your private parts, Stark,” she barked at him.

“Is that blood?” He studied the strip in the sink.

“Can you please leave me to my misery?” she asked.

She went to close the window, and he said, “Did you know you have a fabric strip dangling from your crotch?”

“A gentleman wouldn’t mention that.” Now, her crotch and her face were on fire.

He leaned his arms against the windowsill, the cold and the snow not bothering him at all. “Based on the amount of hair on the strip in the sink, you probably should have trimmed before you waxed.”

“Oh, thank you so much for the tip, Mr. Labia Waxing Expert,” she snapped.

“I’m not an expert, but apparently, I’ve waxed more labia than you have. And I haven’t had any complaints about the results,” he said.

That made her pause. “You’re lying.”

“Why? Because you think only women are good at waxing? So, now you’re a wimp and sexist?”

She glared at him. “I can’t imagine a woman would let you near her vagina for waxing or sex, Stark. Not after talking with you for more than five minutes.”

“Actually, I do rather well in that department,” he said.

“I guess some women think arrogance is sexy,” she said.

He just shrugged before glancing at her crotch again. “How long has that wax been there?”

“What does it matter?” she asked.

“Because it’ll have hardened, which means you won’t be able to remove it. At least not without ripping off a layer of skin.”

She stared at the bloody strip in the sink, her crotch already protesting at the thought of trying to remove the other one.

“You need oil to remove it,” he said.

She cursed under her breath. “I don’t have any baby oil.”

“Olive oil will work,” he said.

She glanced at her phone again. “Shit. I’m going to be late.”

Without bothering to say thanks, she left the bathroom and hurried to the kitchen. Christ, her crotch hurt.
She hunted through the cupboards, screaming again when Stark said, “Make sure you use a lot of oil.”

She whirled around with the olive oil bottle in her hand. “How the hell did you get in my house?”

“Climbed in through the bathroom window,” he said like it was perfectly normal for him to climb into her bathroom.

“Why?” she said, her exasperation clear.

“Thought you might need help.” He shrugged. “I’m being a good neighbour.”

“I do not need help,” she said as she poured some olive oil on a paper towel.

“We’ll see.” He crossed his arms and watched as she stuck her hand under her too-short nightgown and dabbed at the strip stuck to her crotch.

She set the paper towel on the counter and gripped the strip with shaking fingers, giving it a light, experimental tug.

“Fuck!” She blew out a breath, her legs joining in on the shaking. “It still hurts.”

“Did you use enough oil?” Stark asked.

She glared at him. “I have no fucking idea. Get that look off your face.”

“What look is that?”

“The look that says you’re enjoying the show.”

He grinned, and her burning crotch immediately tingled in response. Christ, now was not the fucking time for her inappropriate lust for her enemy to kick in.

“You need to leave,” she said as she glanced at her phone. “Shit, look what time it is. You and your stupid oil idea! I could have maybe, maybe, gone on my date with a wax strip stuck to my cooch, but now it’s covered in oil and blood and wax and….”

She grabbed the strip and gave it a fierce yank, screaming when fresh, hot pain ripped across her labia, and the strip didn’t move an inch.

Her scream didn’t wake poor deaf Bea, who was snoring away on her bed in the kitchen, but Stark winced before striding toward her and picking up the oil-laden paper towel. “You definitely didn’t use enough oil.”

“What are you doing?” She batted his hand away when he reached between her legs.

“I’ll remove the strip for you,” he said.

“Like hell you will!” she said.

“You have two choices,” he said. “Cancel your date with my cousin, who bid a lot of money at the auction to go on this date with you, or let me help you.”

“I can reschedule,” she said. “He’ll understand.”

“I’m afraid you don’t know my cousin very well,” he said. “You reschedule this date, and he’ll ask for his ‘donation’ to be returned.”

“He wouldn’t,” she said.

“He would,” Stark said flatly. “You don’t know my cousin, Rayna.”

It was the first time he’d ever said her first name and her imagination went into overdrive. Would her name sound as good coming out of his mouth when she was on her knees before him and sucking on his cock? It was a question she desperately wanted answered.

Stop it! He’s an arrogant asshole doing everything he can to drive you off your land. Remember?

“Make your choice, Ms. Abrams.” Stark’s voice was indifferent, but that muscle ticked in his jaw, and his eyes had turned the colour of the ocean after a storm.

She swallowed hard. “Fine. You can help me.”