Still on my haunches, I turn to look up at her, my wrench dangling from my hand. I’ve forgotten all about the water and the pipes and random home repairs. My entire focus is on her.
She seems as composed as always, except for two flaming spots of red on her cheeks. Her arms hang at her side, and she just stands in a natural pose, and yet somehow she’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. I rake my eyes up over her legs, taking in the curve of her hips, and the way her soft T-shirt ever-so-slightly clings to her breasts.
“I can help with that,” I murmur.
Cynthia’s blue eyes flash with realization behind her glasses, and I know she knows now. She wasn’t certain before, but now she knows today is different. We’re treading on territory we’ve never gone near before.
She breaks eye contact with me and crosses her arm as she stares back at the shower, the water still running. The steam clings to the soft peach fuzz on her arms, and I swallow as I see how her crossed arms pushes up her soft breast.
“Really?” she whispers, a small smile tugging at her face. “You’re a very useful landlord then.”
My cock aches. I want her so bad. But I can’t just grab her and push her into her bedroom. That wouldn’t be right, not for sweet and intelligent Cynthia. She’s young too, I have to remember that. I’m not the guy who takes advantage of naive younger women.
But Cynthia isn’t naive. She knows who she is. And if she really wants this, well then I’m going to give it to her as good as I can.
I rise to my feet until I’m towering over her. I give her a gentle smile.
“It wouldn’t exactly be in a landlord capacity,” I say. “More like a friend helping a friend.”
What I want from Cynthia is way more than friendship, but I just don’t want her to think of me as her landlord right now. I want her to think of me as a man who is more than willing to meet her every need.
“Hm.” Cynthia furrows her brow. I want to reach out and smooth away the consternation from her face. She’s thinking about this way too hard. That’s classic Cynthia though. As tempted as I am to tell her not to think and just go with what her gut tells her, she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t overthink things.
The shower has been running for so long that the bathroom is starting to fill with billows of warm steam. They fog up Cynthia’s glasses. She tugs them off and starts to wipe away the condensation on the glass.
I decide it’s time to take a risk, and I reach out and touch, ever so gently, the strand of hair that’s waving in the humidity near her ear. I brush it once with my forefinger, and then take my hand back. I don’t want to get too much in her space, I just had to reach out a little.
The next move has to be hers though. She looks up at me and stands perfectly still. I stand still as well, my heart hammering against my chest.
Chapter Seven
Cynthia
I can’t lie, the sight of Nate Ramsay in my bathroom with a box of tools is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.
He’s throwing me for a loop though, and my brain is scrambling to catch up with the conversation.
I know it shouldn’t be confusing. I’m attracted to him, and it seems like he’s attracted to me. But it is confusing. Because he’s my landlord. And I’m a virgin. And what does he actually want? Is it possible he’s just teasing? That he just wants to flirt but not take it any further?
I’m a medical student. I like research projects with facts and figures. I like data.
Phrases with ambiguous or hidden meanings aren’t my thing. I don’t know how to interpret Nate telling me, with that sly grin of his, that he could help me. That I don’t have to miss out anymore.
My breath catches in my throat as I look up at him. I thought for a second he was going to put his hand on my cheek when he reached out. I know if he touches my skin, I’ll lose it. In close quarters, his manliness and rugged good looks are only emphasized. I can see the way his T-shirt stretches over his broad chest, and the steam from the shower has made a lock of hair hang over his forehead.
But he didn’t touch my cheek. He just brushed one finger against a lock of my hair, as soft as humanly possible.
I’m so confused. I want to call a timeout or ask for extra help or an extension. I don’t know what to say, and I usually always know what to say.
Well, I think to myself. What do you want?
I want to know what he’s suggesting, first and foremost. If he’s suggesting what I think he’s suggesting, then I can’t deny that I want him on a physical level. But I just don’t know if we’re on the same page.
The frustrations of my day come bubbling back to the surface. I’m sick of being stressed about school and my future and my mom. I’m sick of my friends judging me for never letting loose or relaxing.
I just want to feel good. And I have an uncanny hunch that Nate can make me feel good. Very good.
If he’s up for it.
That’s what I need to know, and I don’t want to play games or tiptoe around the subject anymore.
In that moment, I make my decision. I straighten my mouth into a firm line and meet his intense gaze.
“Tell me what you’re suggesting exactly,” I say. “Are you into me or not?”
To my surprise, Nate lets out a soft chuckle. “Cynthia, I’m more than into you. I’m fascinated by you.”
His eyes move over my body, and
