“It looks really nice in here,” I say, setting down my toolbox. “You’ve made it feel like home already.”
“Thanks,” she says, looking pleased. “I’ve been trying. You should see it at night.”
My eyes automatically flick to the bed and my brain supplies an extremely detailed image of her in it. Those long legs wrapped around my waist, that white t-shirt on the floor, my hands gripping her thighs while?—
“The lighting is super cozy and homey,” she says,interrupting my thought and smiling sweetly. “Perfect for reading or knitting before bed.”
Right. Reading. Not me finding out what she tastes like when I bury my face between those thighs.
I clear my throat. “So which cabinet was giving you trouble?”
“This one here.” She crouches down to point at the lower cabinet, and those shorts ride up, revealing the curve of her ass in a way that makes my mouth go dry. All I can think about is gripping her hips and pulling her back against me while she moans into the mattress.
I’m going straight to hell.
I crouch down beside her, my shoulder brushing against hers, and test the door. The top hinge is loose, just needs the screws tightened. A five-minute fix, maybe less. I reach for my toolbox and pull out a screwdriver, grateful to have something concrete to focus on.
“Is it fixable?” she asks, leaning in closer to watch what I’m doing. Her arm brushes against mine and I nearly drop the screwdriver.
“Yeah, easy fix.” I work the first screw, feeling it catch and tighten. The metal bites into the wood the way it should, secure and solid. “Just needs some adjustment on both hinges.”
She’s quiet, watching me work, and I’m hyperaware of her presence beside me. The way she’s sitting, the warmth coming off her body, how if I turned my head even slightly we’d be face to face. Close enough to kiss. I haven’t been this close to a woman in years, not like this, and my body is responding in ways I can’t control. It’s been, what, two years since my last disappointing hookup? Maybe three? Long enough that apparently just crouching next to a pretty woman in short shorts is enough to get me half-hard like a teenager.
She stands and I take a breath, trying to get myself under control.
“Can I offer you some coffee?” she asks. “As a thank you forcoming out on such short notice. I know Mondays are probably busy for you.”
I should say no. Keep this professional. Crystal clear boundaries are important when dealing with a tenant who’s my daughter’s teacher and also ten years younger than me. The fact that I’m even entertaining the idea of staying makes me want to kick myself. I like to think I’m a decent guy, but the thoughts that keep intruding about her are anything but decent, and I need to be a gentleman here.
“Yeah,” I hear myself say, “coffee would be great.”
Fuck me.
I turn back to the cabinet, adjusting the second hinge with more attention than it probably needs. Behind me, I hear the clink of ceramic, the sound of coffee pouring.
“How do you take it?” she asks.
“Black is fine.”
I test the cabinet door again, opening and closing it. The movement is smooth now, no scraping, no resistance. Fixed. Done. I give it one more look, checking the screws to make sure they’re secure. Or maybe that’s just an excuse to stay here a little longer, kneeling on Emma’s kitchen floor like some kind of lovesick idiot.
I shove my tools back in the toolbox and stand up, brushing off my knees. “All done. Easy fix.”
“Oh great.” She hands me a mug covered in little cartoon cats, and I have to suppress a grin. “Thanks again for coming by.”
“Happy to help,” I say, taking a sip. The coffee is strong and smooth, exactly how I like it. When I look up, she’s watching me over the rim of her own mug, and there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite read. Interest? Curiosity? Probably just friendliness.
“I wasn’t sure if it was okay to call you directly,” she says, leaning back against the counter. “I know I have your number for emergencies, but this doesn’t really qualify. I’d just seen you at the restaurant, so I think you were on my mind...”
On my mind.Fuck. The thought of her thinking about me makes my blood run south fast. I can feel my cock straining against my zipper, and I shift my body slightly so she can’t see what those three little words have done to me.
“No, it’s completely fine to call me about stuff like this. Call or text me whenever you need something.” I hear how that sounds and add quickly, “For the apartment, I mean. Or reservations. Whatever.”
Real eloquent.
“Good to know,” she says, and there’s a smile playing on her lips that makes me wonder if she caught my fumble. “Speaking of the restaurant, my sister and I couldn’t stop talking about it. I’ve been to loads of nice places over the years, but I think that risotto was the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“Thanks, that’s nice to hear. Alex will be thrilled. He takes his risotto very seriously.”
