Cold

TWO

Two

Something about the baritone voice shook her in a way that she could not pinpoint. For the first time in her life her heart thumped so hard against her chest just as chills trickled down her spine down to her toes. The feeling was very foreign and completely unexpected.

And in that moment she found herself thinking that being caught red-handed was not such a great feeling after all. And her first time just had to be while she was perched up on a chair with her uniform bunched up.

Like a deer caught in headlights, she turned ever so slowly towards the owner of the voice that held her captive. Her brown orbs connected with the ash black orbs of a man whose height alone was something to be reckoned with.

His hair, a slick messy dirty blond, looked like he had just stepped out of bed. A jaw so cut out, it was almost surreal. She saw how his complexion was not pale like her own, instead it was a tan, almost gold colour; something which she found almost amazing as it immediately gave away his foreign ethnicity.

She decided then that this man was indeed beautiful. She had never encountered a sight so enthralling. And no, this conclusion was not coming down from the fact that she did not have that much interactions with men to just label the next man as good looking. There was no question about it, she was not blind and was simply stating a fact.

His pristine shirt was folded at the cuffs, allowing her a glimpse of the trickle of curls that disappeared under the unfolded parts of his sleeves. The top two buttons were undone and she could see the broad expanse of his bronze chest, something which incited her stomach to release a swarm of butterflies.

It was only as her eyes once again settled on his face and saw how his jaw was so set out, that she realised the man was biting down his teeth in anger. She suddenly felt like a huge bucket of water had been poured over her. Instantly, her senses were at their sharpest degree as she came crushing to reality.

She was suddenly all too aware of the weight of the situation and how bad she probably looked. There she was high up on the expensive looking chair, her uniform bunched up under both of her hips managing to put her thighs on display; clutching the duster for dear life.

Her gaze lowered in shame. In that moment, she hoped for nothing more than the ground to swallow her whole. It seemed she could not muster the courage to speak. Or was it that she had lost the ability to speak as it was.

"I am not fond of repeating myself," His voice once again made her want to crawl somewhere and hide for the rest of her life. What about Natie? She thought to herself, amidst her feelings.

"Uh...please."

Please? That's all she could say? And more precisely, what exactly was she pleading for? She took a deep breath as subtly as she could, all too aware of the scorching gaze the man held on her.

'You're not making this any easy!' She wanted to shout at the man. But she couldn't be that stupid.

"Sir, it's not what it looks like." Great! The perfect thing to say when it is exactly what it looks like. And what was it if it was not what it looked like? She gulped once she saw how his gaze never faltered.

"I mean I just wanted to clean the cabinet but could not reach so..." she trailed off and lowered her eyes to the floor. She hoped that the man would at least understand her vague explanation.

At the long torturous silence that followed, she raised her head timidly only to find him standing directly in front of her. Nothing could have prepared her for this close proximity. She could now see how flawless his skin was, something she inwardly scolded herself for. This was not the time to be getting mesmerised by the man's looks.