Page 124 of Story of My Life
Bending over felt like I was tying my cock in a pretzel. The pain was good. It gave me something else to focus on.
I picked up the curtain and rod and straightened just in time to see her stretching up on her tiptoes. When the loose hem of her shirt fell away from her body, my fortuitous angle afforded me an unobstructed look at the underside of braless breasts.
The throb in my erection intensified to Urgent.
“Got it?” she asked, looking down at me as if she weren’t a walking, talking fantasy put here to drive me out of my mind.
“Got what?”
“The curtain rod in your hand.”
I looked down and wordlessly held it up to her.
“You’re making your pissed-off face again,” she noted as she stretched to insert one end of the rod into the mount.
I grabbed the ladder again and tried not to look at any body part that would make me want to snatch her off the ladder and lay her out on the couch. Unfortunately for me, even her calves and ankles were erotic temptations.
Hazel leaned to the opposite side for the other mount, and her foot slipped off the step. Without thinking, I reached up quickly and steadied her one-handed by the ass. The universe was against me today. Because my hand didn’t land on soft cotton shorts. No. My palm was cupping bare flesh. I stared in horror at my hand, which had somehow slipped beneath the hem of her shorts and was on her underwear-less ass.
We were in front of a street-facing window at night. Anyone could walk by and watch our little show.
“Uh, Cam?”
“Fuck. Me.” I gritted out the words.
“You know, I probably would have at the beginning of the week, but then you went all cactus on me,” she said conversationally, ignoring my hand up her shorts.
“Please. Stop. Talking.”
We stood frozen like that for several heartbeats. I used my free hand to grip her thigh and slowly, painfully removed my palm from her ass.
“Get down.”
“But I didn’t finish?—”
“For the love of God, woman. Get down.”
She climbed down the ladder and landed with a disgruntled look.
“You arekillingme,” I announced.
“Good,” she said smugly.
“Good?”
“It’s nice seeing some kind of emotion from you that isn’t general pissed-offness.”
My hand was warm from resting on her round ass. My dick was acting like a goddamn metronome, keeping the beat of adrenalized blood flow.
I swiped my forearm over my forehead and took a self-preserving step backward, only to nearly trip over my tool tote.
“I forgot to put the curtains on the rod,” Hazel said, ignoring my hormonal crisis in favor of the state of her window treatments.
Swearing under my breath, I stomped up the ladder, removed the rod, threaded the curtains onto it, and hung it back in place.
I climbed down and whirled around to find her perched on the arm of the sofa, watching me.
“They look good.”
