Mounting Danger

Chapter 5- I Have No Problem With Manual Labor

My heart pounded in a frantic rhythm against my ribcage. Could he really be outside?

I dashed to my window and looked out. Sure enough, a 6-foot man with striking blonde hair stood outside my front door. His back was turned but I knew unmistakably that it was Kayle. My throat constricted as I swallowed the lump of building anxiety in it. Was he insane?

I sprinted back to my phone and messaged Kayle back. I'll tell you the measurements.

His message back was immediate. :) Too late 

The sound of my lock being unbolted startled me. Seconds later, Kayle strolled into my living room holding a measuring tape as if invited in. He gave me a quick once over his brows arching mischievously. I glanced down and quickly realized it was my T-shirt that caught his attention.  The thin fabric did little to conceal the effects of the cold in my apartment. 

Kayle took a step toward me and I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest. "What the hell are you doing."

Kayle didn't give me an answer. Instead, he backed me into the wall slowly. His lips curled into a boyish grin. "I'm getting your measurements since you insist on making it hard. But you should know I have no problem with manual labor." He stretched the small tape out in his palms.

It felt like a spotlight had closed in on me. "Kayle if you touch me--

"Relax," he interrupted, his voice low. "I'm only here for the measurements. Take your panties out of the bunch they're in."

Normally, I'd find his comment comical but I wasn't wearing any underwear so it served as a reminder.

 I gripped the bottom of my oversized T-shirt with one hand and reached out to swipe the tape with the other. Kayle pulled back instantly with a small wave of his finger. 

I glared up at him. "I'll do it."

Kayle's smirk widened. "I don't doubt you can. But I really want to."

"Well, you can't." I retorted my voice firmer.

He laughed and slicked back his hair. "Fine. I'm all about consent anyway."

"You broke into my house." I pointed out his flawed logic.

His lips curved upwards slightly, a sly smirk dancing on his face. "If you really wanted me gone," he mused, his voice dripping with amusement, "you'd have said it."

"Get out," I demanded. Now he was full-on laughing. Suddenly I was more aware of the muscles and abs he concealed under his sirt. They flexed and bulged the harder he laughed, making it difficult to keep my eyes away.

"I'll leave right after I get your measurements," he replied, his tone teasing.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation and stretched my hand out, palm open. He reluctantly placed the tape in my hand, and I wasted no time. I started measuring my waist, the tape winding around it like a serpent. "25 inches," I announced.

Moving on to my hips, I held my breath for a moment before declaring, "35 inches."

Lastly, I measured my bust. "33 inches," I muttered.

I returned the tape to Kayle, whose face had now darkened. With an emotionless expression he slinked the tape around my neck and drew me in close to him. My skin brushed against his gently until the modest vanilla scent on his skin penetrated my nostrils. The small gesture set my body on fire instantly. Before I could look away, Kayle ran his hand through my hair, allowing his finger to stop just below the nape of my neck.