a look.
Bending over to find the items he asked for, I couldn’t help my grin.
When I handed him the fuse boxes, he started explaining what he was doing, checking the part numbers, and where to check that the main breaker was shut off. Then he unscrewed the cover and set it on the ground by his feet.
“You still have power coming through,” he said, pointing for me to hold the gauge just beyond the wires to see how it lit up. “Now that we know the circuit breakers I had match up, we can replace the old one. But we have to turn off the main breaker first, so go ahead and turn on the flashlight on your phone. There’s not enough natural light in the hallway to be able to see.”
Yes, please, I thought. Just what I need. To stand side by side with Aiden in a dark closet. In a house by ourselves.
It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if he could hear my heart hammering behind my rib cage. After all, the only thing covering it was one thin layer of white cotton and the flimsy protection of my skin, which hummed like a live wire at his nearness.
If someone held that voltage checker in the scant space separating our bodies, it would have lit up like the Fourth of freaking July.
Aiden flipped the main power off, and we were plunged into darkness.
I let out an audible breath as he shifted slightly, the skin of his arm brushing my shoulder. He smelled like a soapy pine forest which sounded so much less sexy than it smelled. I wanted to crush that scent into crystals and snort it.
“Can you, uh”—he paused—“the flashlight?”
“Right,” I exhaled. I pulled my phone from where it was tucked into the pocket of my joggers, almost dropping it when my hands shook a little.
The light was garish and harsh, and when I glanced up at him, a muscle tightened ominously in his jaw as his eyes were straightforward on the fuse box.
“See that screw there on the far right of the blown fuse?”
I moved the flashlight but had to shift closer to get a clear view of it. “Mm-hmm.”
“That’s what you unscrew to remove the wire,” he explained. “Do you have the flathead?”
Nodding, I lowered the phone so I could reach my other hand into my pocket.
“I’ll take the phone,” he said.
Passing it to him, I willed myself to stop thinking about anything except replacing that motherfucking fuse because the things running through my head were positively indecent.
They got worse when he extended his arm behind me to angle the light so I could see more clearly.
In my head, I had an image of myself as a marionette doll, and he could pull and tug me into the right position simply by plucking a single string. Each corresponding body part would bend to his will. What I wanted was to slide closer and see what would happen if I moved in front of him.
Would he curl one of those big hands around my hip and yank me back against him?
Would he drop the phone, wrap his arm around the front of me, slide it down the opening in my shirt?
Would he slide his arm around my waist? Pluck at the tie of my joggers and shove them out of his way?
In the light, my hand visibly shook when I lifted it to unscrew the fuse.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
My hand froze midair. “What?”
“Take a deep breath.” I did as he asked. “If you’re nervous to do this, I can take over.”
Take over.
I wanted him to take over.
Why was this happening to me? And with this man? I was always the strong one. The together one. The take-charge one.
And in that tiny, dark closet, I wanted him to absolutely dominate me.
Aiden and I were talking about two entirely different things, of that I was certain.
But still, I slid to the side so that my back was to his chest, and when he inhaled, a sharp quick pull of breath, I felt something powerful course under my skin.
“Please,” I whispered. I wanted to turn around and face him, whirl in his arms and press myself against his body. “Please take over,” I begged quietly.
For a beat, the air between us was so thick I couldn’t breathe.
If this was all in my head, I could hardly imagine facing him again.
“Shit,” he grumbled, a delicious vibration of sound at my back. I felt his nose next to my hair,