My body went as tense as if someone asked me to sing karaoke. “You’re going to do what?”
“Unless you want to give me a lift?”
I shuffled my weight from one foot to the other. The cold was seeping in at my toes, making me miss the city more with every minute.
“And no, I don’t have a ladder.” He then slipped the flashlight back between his teeth, offering his palms once more.
I turned my face towards the shelf, hoping he couldn’t see my expression either. An expression along the lines of dread, misery, and the smallest amount of anticipation at the thought of him touching me. Which...gross, Nora! Not helpful.
I wondered if he wanted me to step onto his palms, and smugness filled me at the thought of ruining his fancy sweater. But before I could wonder further, he stepped behind me, palms slipping underneath my thighs, moving me upwards so I could balance my boots on one of the racks but not put my full weight on it. I was surprised, judging by the state of this shed, that it managed to hold up the generator without collapsing.
Trying to ignore the warmth of his hands, I fumbled for the switch.
“I can’t see it. Wait.” I shifted slightly, plucking the flashlight out of his mouth and putting it into my own. The metal waswarm where his lips had been. A jolt of something we aren’t going to address hit me when I tasted him on it.
“Little higher.” I tried to say, but only a mumble came out.
“All I got was gibberish,” John deadpanned.
“Higher,” I said, more clearly.
“Yes, your majesty,” he said.
John’s hand slipped from my thigh, readjusting me. His other arm pressed my ass flat with his stomach. I totally did not notice his shallow breaths seeping through the back of my jumper. Didn’t notice the heat pooling at the bottom of my belly.
Instead, I focused the light on the gap until I saw the small red switch at the back of the shelf.
I reached for it, aware of every space where our bodies touched. And flicked it.
Nothing. No surge of electricity, no flickering of lamplight. The place stayed dark.
“It’s not working,” I said.
“Did you press the right button?”
“There is only one.”
John swore. “The fuel must be empty.” He loosened his arms around me just as I was preparing to climb. I slipped. Instinct took over as I halted my fall by grabbing for his shoulder. My sweater bunched up as his hands slipped beneath it. John’s large palms spread over my skin as he pressed his body into mine, pushing me against the shelf. With one of his legs nudged between mine, he stopped me from slipping further.
The flashlight tumbled from my mouth, thumping dully on the floor.
“Shit, sorry,” he gasped.
“It’s okay,” I gasped right back.
But I didn’t let go. Nor did he retract his hands. The heat of them singed my skin. John’s hard parts against my soft parts. His goddamn smell. It turned my brain into a spinning top.
I couldn’t see his facial expression, had no idea what he was thinking, but it took entirely too long for one of us to move. The pressure of his thigh against my middle sparked… something. My body… my treacherous body wanted to move against him. Just then, his hand tightened on the small of my back.
I felt that little movement everywhere.
“What are you doing?” I breathed into the night.
“Not sure.” His voice was raspy.
A thought occurred to me then. What lengths would he go to secure a spot in the next round? Was he capable of theft? Would he seduce someone for his gain? While he had a smoking-hot fiancée waiting for him?
Maybe. Possibly.
