Helena
I went back inside, popping the lemonade into the freezer to keep it as cold as possible while trying very hard not to stand by and gawk at the spectacle outside my window. Dominick had broken a sweat, and the sharp muscles of his back glistened in the sunlight. His shoulders were large and round, and I wanted to reach out and touch them. To run my hands over the expanse of exposed skin, exploring the bulges of his biceps.
And triceps.
And any other bulges I might've been able to find.
My breath was slow and heavy as my fingers ran their way across my own body. Shivers rocked me from head to toe as I drank in the glorious view, unable to look away no matter how hard I tried.
It was probably rude to stay inside while he was working out there.
It was definitely rude to do…whatever it was I was doing while I watched.
I should've been ashamed, but I still couldn't bring myself to stop. I couldn't explain it, even to myself. I'd seen countless images of fit, muscular men all my life. Television, movies, news reports of athletes. I'd never cared much, and certainly had never experienced any reaction as powerful as this one.
Dominick was so ripped that it seemed impossible he was simply a man. His body seemed too perfect, like he belonged atop Mount Olympus with the rest of his pantheon. At the same time, he seemed inviting—not just in how he looked, but also in how he acted and spoke. He seemed so far from the twisted stereotype I imagined him to be, and the longer I spent with him the harder it was to convince myself that it was all an act.
He seemed like a good guy, genuinely.
The loud noise came to a sudden stop as Dominick cut the engine and turned back towards the house. I yelped in surprise at the abrupt silence, amazed to find that he'd already mowed the entire yard area. He'd even moved the table and chairs to get beneath them, something I didn't even remember him doing.
It must've been when he bent over, I realized. I had an almost photographic memory of that, the way his muscles had shifted and his ass had come into perfect focus. I'd been completely oblivious to why he was doing that, simply enjoying the show and apparently memorizing every hard curve on his body.
Dominick walked back towards the house, striding towards me. Panic erupted in me as I realized I must've been standing here and staring for a long time, and had I nothing to show for it. If he asked me where I was, or what I was doing, I'd have no answer.
It would be best if I were in another room when he came back in, I told myself, willing my feet to run somewhere else.
Anywhere else.
Out on the yard, Dominick used his forearm to wipe away the streams of sweat running down his face.
And my feet stayed exactly where they were.
By the time he reached the door, it was too late to run away. I did my best to act natural as he came back in, desperately hoping that he wouldn't comment on my absence.
"Welcome back," I said, a little too hastily. "You did a great job! Sorry I couldn't come out, I was just, er—reading a paper for work."
Right, because that was going to work. I sounded like Ali when she was younger and had eaten all the cookies, beginning the conversation with I didn't do it! as soon as I walked into the kitchen.
"You did a great job out there," I added.
"Thanks," Dominick said with a smile.
"No need to thank me! I should be thanking you, profusely," I said, trying to ignore the tawdry images of how I could thank him. "That was incredibly nice of you, and it looks fantastic. Thank you so much."
"Well, I don't know about fantastic, but it's definitely a good start," Dominick answered.
"Really?" I asked, tilting to the side to get a clear view around Dominick's large frame. "It looks good to me."
"There's a lot that needs to be done, still."
"Just tell me what to do," I said automatically, realizing too late how suggestive it sounded. I hoped that it was just me, that Dominick wouldn't notice, but the short silence that followed told me he had.
That, and the way his smile got just a little bigger and…hungrier.
Also the fact that his eyes scanned down my body, setting it on fire in the process.
As if I wasn't hot enough already.
"I mean," I said after a moment, "just tell me what you need."
Not.
Helping.
"Outside," I finally added. "You've done so much already, just tell me what you need me to do, and I can do the rest myself."
"Well, I was thinking about how that patio furniture could be salvaged. A little work with a sander would probably take the rust right off," Dominick said.
"You mean like, using power tools?" I asked, trying to hide my horror. "I've always been convinced I'd lose a finger within seconds if I tried to use any of those."
"I don't think a sander can do that," Dominick answered reassuringly.
"I would find a way," I stated flatly. Realizing a moment too late how unreasonable I was being, I quickly backpedaled. "But, you've done so much, maybe it's time for me to get over that phobia. It's the least I can do. Besides, my father and even Ali are both very mechanically minded. I'm sure that I really put my mind to it, I could find it in myself—"
"Or I could just keep coming back here to help," Dominick suggested, interrupting my babbling.
"Yespleasethankyougod," I said in a rush. "But wait, won't that really eat into your time with Ali? I don't want to do that to you, or her."
"It wouldn't be a problem if I keep showing up early like this," Dominick offered. My heart started pumping just a little harder, my mood lifting to be a little brighter. Part of me loved the idea of Dominick coming by for regular alone time, even as the rest of me felt guilty for imposing.
"Would you really be okay with that?" I asked. "It doesn't seem right, treating you like you were a handyman I hired off Craigslist or something. I'd feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
"You taking advantage of me?" Dominick said, emphasizing the words you and me so subtly that I thought I was imagining it. At least until a second later, when his eyes trailed down to my dress once more.
Again I felt the same hyper-awareness of my body that I'd experienced earlier, almost as if he were touching me instead of looking at me. When his gaze finally reached my breasts, they lingered there for a moment. It filled me with a mass of contradictory emotions, pushing me in every direction at once.
Part of me wanted to respond to it the way I usually responded to men treating me that way, by crossing my arms or even telling him my eyes are up here.
Part of me enjoyed in the sensation, feeling unabashedly sexual for the first time in years. Despite all his gentlemanly efforts, he wanted me.
Dominick.
A man who could have practically any woman he chose.
He wanted me.
The feeling was an incredible thrill. It was enough that one more part of me—an insane part—wanted to stop talking entirely. I wanted to lunge for him and wrap my arms around his body, to pull myself up and give him an unexpected kiss. It would've been completely inappropriate, of course, but deep down I couldn't help but revel in the forbidden feeling.
Dominick's eyes went back up to mine, and the desire in his face was plain even to me. He knew that I knew, had seen that I caught him staring. I gave him a soft smile—even as the normal parts of my brain yelled what the hell are you doing—and we continued on as if nothing had happened.
"I don't see it that way," Dominick said finally. "You're not taking advantage of me at all. Handymen aren't the only people who do chores like that."
"No?" I asked, wondering where he was heading with this. "Who else would spend hours working on my derelict back yard?"
"Well, the way I see it," Dominick began, his voice soft as he spoke. "It's exactly the kind of thing a man does for his family."
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
There were no words.