My mind is going a million miles a minute trying to figure out his statement from earlier ‘I’m going to spend the rest of the day showing you who you belong to’. By the way he pressed his erection into me on the couch it’s obviously sexual;Tanner is definitely not shy in the bedroom. He’s the most adventurous guy I’ve been with and I love it, which is probably why my mind is spinning. I have zero experience when it comes to the things he does to me.

Tanner sets me down in the middle of the room, then walks into the bathroom. He returns with a hairbrush and a hair tie. Well I wasn’t expecting this. He sits down on my reading chair in the corner and puts a pillow on the ground between his feet.

“Come and sit down,” he murmurs softly.

“What?” Is all I can manage, my feet stuck. He has completely thrown me off guard here.

His laughter fills the room. “I just want to get your hair out of your face, c’mon, sit.”

Walking over to him I sit down on the pillow. My hair is still damp from my earlier shower and I’ve already run the brush through so it shouldn’t be hard for him to do whatever it is he wants to do. I assumed he would chuck it up in a ponytail or a bun on top of my head, but in true Tanner Hayes style he blows my mind. My gorgeous, moody landlord is French Braiding my hair.

The act alone has my heart cracking open for him. I can’t even remember the last time someone did my hair for me. After Dad disappeared, Mum wasn’t very present. Kyle tried to help me, but what does an eleven year old boy know about doing girl’s hair? Over those two years, he did get pretty good at doing piggy tails though.

I didn’t even realise Tanner had finished until he spoke. “Beautiful,” he says. “Why don’t you stand up, and get undressed.”

Doing as he instructs, and turning to face him, he bends slightly to kiss my forehead. “I’ll be back in a second.” And with that he disappears back down stairs.

I’m standing in front of the floor-length mirror, admiring the French Braid in my hair when I feel him behind me, his touch sending tingles to my core.

“How — I mean where did you learn to do this?” I ask. There is something deeper behind his eyes, as if the question has caught him off guard, there is something there he doesn’t want to share. But if he wants me to be his, that also means he’s mine.