Back2Skool UNFmett Contest

Title: The Cable Guy

Author: Achelle131/AchelleCandy

Category: AU/AH

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and its characters, or plot.
The characters, books, and plot are property of Stephenie Meyer.
The hot cable guy that looks like Kellan Lutz and the horny college girl that looks like a Nikki Reed, however, are mine.
I make no money from writing this. I just love Twilight.

To view other entries for this contest please visit:
http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/Back2Skool_UNFmett_Contest/73925/

Warning: Rated M for a reason. Violence, adult language, and sexual content. You've been warned.

To adhere better to the Terms of Service at FanFiction(dot)net, I am doing a revisions on my chapters here, and keeping them less explicit. They will now be rightfully fitting into the M-rated category (rather than MA). Please go to my profile and read my story on Twilighted or LiveJournal for the full explicit version.

Author's Note:

This is also an installment in the Twilight After Dark Series on Twilighted(dot)com. To read other smutty stories by KariAnn, cfmom, and myself, visit the series in twilghted. The link can be found on my profile

Super thanks to KariAnn for being an awesome, honest beta! This wouldn't be anything good without your help!

To my own personal cable guy, Mikey, for inspiring this one-shot: I love you always.

Alternate Universe/All Human, third person.

Playlist:

Janet Jackson – Any Time, Any Place

Jodeci – Feenin'

Lloyd – Get It Shawty

R Kelly – Bump N Grind

112-Anywhere


The Cable Guy

Rosalie Hale lay on her bed, cocooned in the luxury of her down comforter and Egyptian cotton sheets as she slept soundly in her room. She was happy that school was over, having completed her first year of college last week at Syracuse University. It provided many lazy days such as this one, where she was able to sleep in late.

She was always concerned about catching her beauty sleep, but this morning was important. She dreamed that she was in a hot red BMW M3, driving along the cost of California with the wind in her long, golden tresses. She never wanted to wake up.

A light rapping at a door pulled her out of her slumber and interrupted her dream. Frustrated and assuming that it was for a neighbor on her apartment floor, she flipped over on her stomach, covering her head with an extra pillow. Eagerly, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force herself back into the sleep that she needed, hoping she could slip back into her previous dream.

A long moment passed, and she felt herself begin to surrender to her sleep once again. Suddenly a decidedly larger sound pounded on a door, and her head flew up from her pillow as she realized that the door belonged to her. She turned to sit up on her bed, feeling groggy and annoyed. Rubbing her eyes, she refocused them as she scanned her room. All over her furniture she had boxes upon boxes stacked on top of each other, some open, and some not. She had just moved in days before from the campus Freshmen dorms, having found a great deal on a brand new garden-style mid-rise apartment complex not too far from school.

Her eyes stopped at the clock, and squinting to focus them further, she saw that it read 8:42AM. Who could that be, she wondered. Who on earth could bother me at such an ungodly hour? She peeked out of her window into the parking lot of the building, noticing that the TelCom Communications van was parked near the entrance of her complex.

A loud knock came from her door once again. Immediately she was up, realizing she had neglected to remember her appointment for cable installation.

"Coming!" she said as she opened a drawer from her dresser, fumbling around to find a rubber band to throw her hair into a ponytail. Shoving on her slippers and a robe over her pajama pants and tank top, she hurried to the door.

"I'm so sorry," she said, pulling the door open quickly. She swung the door open to find him standing with his large fist poised in mid-knock.

He was tall and quite burly, clad in a uniform of head-to-toe navy blue and a white TelCom logo on his shirt. His baseball cap set low on his forehead prevented her from getting a look of his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, his deep voice thick with a southern accent. His eyes moved as quickly has his hand had, returning to his clipboard as he scribbled on it with a pen. His sight barely left his work order slip as he held his hand out to Rosalie mechanically. "Hello, I'm Emmett. I'm supposed to install video, Internet, and phone in your house. Correct?"

"Yes, that's right." She took his large hands into her French-manicured fingers. "I totally forgot about this. I'm terribly sorry." She stepped to the side, motioning him to step in further.

"Yeah, well, I was about to leave after this last knock," he said with a slight chuckle, stepping into the house. His tall, Herculean form stepped through her living room, his eyes sweeping the room as he stepped inside. "How are you doing this morning Miss…"— he glanced down quickly at his clipboard—"Hale."

"I'm doing okay, thanks." She felt a little bad, and the sound of his chuckle sounded strangely attractive to her. "Have you been waiting long?" she asked.

"About ten minutes," he answered again, still checking over his paper. "Okay, so we're here for two TV outlets, one internet, and one phone, correct?"

He looked up a bit to meet her gaze, but she still wasn't able to get a good view of his face because the lid of his cap was casting a shadow across his features. However, she could make out that his eyes had widened as he finally took a good look at her. They traveled up and down her body in an appreciative manner.

Suddenly growing aware of his observation, she rolled her eyes and quickly pulled her robe closed. Noting her reaction, he averted his eyes to her television in the living room. She was used to being gawked at by many men, her unusually striking beauty being unmatched by most girls.

"Yes, that's correct," she said, recoiling from her earlier stance. "I believe there is an outlet here in the living room, and one in my bedroom," she said quickly, rushing her words as she referred to her room. She felt her cheeks burn.

He nodded to show he heard her, but he seemed to pause in his nod at her mention of her bedroom as well. "That's… good then," he barely coughed. "I'd be out of your hair faster that way." He turned to her suddenly, the angle of his face catching the sunlight.

She froze, her eyes feasting on his face for the first time. His jaw-line was virile and well defined, and his features were almost perfect. He couldn't be younger than nineteen, but he was no older than twenty-one. He was tan on his face and neck, perhaps from working out in the sun in his profession. His smile was warm with plump lips stretched across his face, pearly white teeth, and his large hazel eyes sparkled in the sun that filtered through her windows. However, none of his features were a match for the dimples that set deep into the cheeks of this grown man's face, seemingly out of place. It was like running into Zeus with Cupid's smile.

She was caught in a dumbfounded stupor. It wasn't anything she could explain, but suddenly she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"You don't mind if I go to check your TV now, do you?" he asked, walking over to the television stand.

She realized, embarrassingly enough, that she stood with her mouth open, gaping at him for a moment. She shook herself out of the stupor. "No, not at all. Go right ahead," she insisted.

He inspected it quickly, making notes on his clipboard before looking back up at her. "And the… other room?" he asked, his face keeping his expression as blank as possible.

She nodded silently as she walked him over to her room, suddenly embarrassed by its condition. "Please excuse the mess. I was still in bed when you came over, and I'm still in the process of moving."

He flashed his adorable smile at her once again, lifting his hat off of his head. "It's fine."

She excused herself to go change. She realized her slumber get-up wouldn't exactly help. She picked out a fresh baby tee and a pair of jean shorts before changing into them in the bathroom. She opened the door to peak out to see that he was still checking things over in her room before she tip-toed back to her bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.

She pulled her long blonde hair out of its ponytail, running her fingers and a brush through her tresses to make sense of it. It fell in soft waves to the middle of her back, but it didn't work for her. She frowned, displeased at how it fell less than perfect, but it wasn't so bad considering she had slept on it after a shower at midnight last night. She yelped, startled, at the sudden tap on her bathroom door.

"I'm sorry," Emmett apologized, lowering his hand from knocking on the door. "Thought I'd knock first. Didn't mean to scare ya. I'm going to go fix your connection outside now."

"Okay," she replied quickly, giving him a small grin. She didn't miss his glance up and down her body once again.

He gave her a grin in response, flashing his adorable dimples before disappearing and stepping out of her apartment door. Her insides melted at his smile, and she gave herself a moment before continuing to pretty herself up. He was gone for quite a while, giving her time to accurately fix her makeup and hair. She was mortified that he had seen her with less careful primping.

Once done, she was able to relax, but her relaxation was short lived as she realized she was impatient to see him again. Rosalie needed a distraction, and she had to find one quickly. She sidestepped her Casio Keyboard and sat at her desk in the nook of the living room. She turned on her Mac Book Pro, trying not to drum her fingers in anticipation for him once more.

She decided to do some online shopping, stealing a faint signal from a neighbor's unprotected wireless network. She hopped onto the BCBG website to look at the season's latest party wear. Startled once again by his knock on her door, she jumped, twirling around in her seat.

He stood with his head poking into her apartment from the door. "Do you happen know where your cable drop is?" he asked, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his wrist. "The closet doesn't seem to have it over in the left. Your building manager seems to not be around today to help."

"Oh, there are actually four for this building," she offered. She stepped out with him, remembering that her neighbor had shown her the cable closet, which correlated to her unit. He followed her as she showed him to it. She hadn't noticed the sweltering heat until she stepped out the door, and the humidity was thick enough to cut with a knife. It felt more like the middle of July at noon rather than an early June morning.

"I apologize," Emmett mumbled, wincing as he caught her wave her hands through the muggy air. They descended the staircase together. "I didn't want to bother you and make you leave the AC. I know most of the buildings in this area. This one is brand new to me."

She nodded, knowing well that the building was only a few months old. "It's not a problem." However, as he followed her, she couldn't get past a sneaky suspicion that his eyes watched her ass. In an effort to test her theory, she turned to him to smile, and his eyes caught her quickly, averting them quickly from staring at her behind. I knew it, she thought. She was smug; he wanted her, too.

Showing him to the door, she opened it, realizing the cable closet wasn't climate controlled. In fact, the room felt like an oven.

She turned to him with concern. His shirt was drenched with sweat, and she felt pity for him immediately. "I'll be right back, okay?" she said, earning a nod from him as he used some tool to try to figure out which wire connected to her unit's cable.

She ran into her apartment and dashed into the kitchen, opening the fridge for a coke. She ran it back to him swiftly. "Here," Rosalie offered him.

"Oh, no, I can't," he said, holding his hands up. However, she noted how he looked longingly at the cold can of soda.

"Please take it," she insisted. "I have a ton of these."

He reached his hand for it reluctantly. However, the moment that his fingers touched her hand, a spark of electricity shocked them both. The spark caused them to jerk back for a split second before finishing the hand off.

"Thanks," he croaked. He set the can down on the floor, reaching for some of his tools.

"You're welcome," she breathed in a rush. She stood awkwardly for a moment as she watched him pull out a few different tools before realizing she should leave. "Well, I'll be in my unit. Let me know if you need me." Earning a nod from him, she was out the door and up the stairs.

She walked back into her apartment, relaxing in the cool temperature from the air conditioner on full blast. She strolled back over to her computer, taking a seat. She continued to shop, perusing through the Anthropologie site for something that caught her interest.

The door swung open after a good twenty minutes. She turned around, her eyes widening as Emmett carried in a few boxes. The boxes didn't surprise her. However, something else about him did.

She quickly noted that he wore a cotton white wife-beater that clung to his muscular chest, putting his broad, defined shoulders and arms on full display. It showcased his prominent pectoral muscles, the tiny bumps of his nipples poking through the ribbed, thin cotton. Her eyes followed a downward trail of his torso to the slight hint of waves of his abdomen. She bit her lip as she realized he was fit and sporting a six-pack.

He turned away after only a few seconds of allowing her eyes to peruse his body from the front. It would have frustrated her if she hadn't realized she had more of a canvas to explore visually. She drank in all of his glory—his large frame from his neck, his broad shoulders, and to the musculature that flexed effortlessly over his shoulder blades. Her sight followed the incline of the small of his back, leading her eye right down to his sleek, shapely ass. All of this was clearly denoted through his paper-thin fabric of his wife-beater. She had the sudden urge to lick him up and down the trail that her eyes had just traveled.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, grinning sheepishly. "It was just way too hot out there, so I had to keep my shirt off. You don't mind, do you? I could put it back on if you do."

She felt the heat of her blood coloring of her cheeks again. Mind, she asked herself. Why didn't he take his shirt off sooner? If it were any other technician, she knew she would immediately report this back to the company. However, she couldn't lie that the visual of his thick arms wasn't eye-candy. "Uh—you—do whatever you think is best to get the job done," I said quickly.

He stretched and flexed his arms as he sifted through the different cable lines. Those arms. Rosalie's eyes enjoyed the thick band of muscle around his upper arm, the arch of his bicep, and the round crescent-shaped outline of his triceps. Beads of sweat raced down his neck and onto his back and chest, creating lines of moisture for her eyes to follow.

He smiled at her as he pulled a cable box out of its package. "Finally gettin' your channels. You excited?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, trying desperately to keep her composure. "I've missed a few True Blood episodes. I can't wait to catch up."

"Good show," he nodded, stepping around the television. "So your favorite character, who would it be?"

"Oh. Bill, of course. You watch it?"

"Of course I do," he responded, matter-of-factly.

"And your favorite would be…."

"Sookie, of course."

"Of course," she nodded. Typical, she thought. Surely he favored the frequently naked blond girl.

"But really, great show. I like it, too."

"I'm sure you do," she muttered with a smirk, "what with all the skin and stuff." Her words came out faster than she could stop to think. She was flirting with him—something she'd never had to do in her life to get attention from a man, but rather to get what she wanted. Men usually fell all over themselves for her without having to do anything extra.

He smiled mischievously, his eyes switching quickly to her chest and back. "I plead the fifth." He cleared his throat.

Her heart sped up, and another flush reached her burning cheeks and ears. What has gotten into me? She figured it must've been the lack of shirt that had her head spinning. He was still clad in a wife-beater, and she was far from complaining.

As he worked to install the cable box in the living room, they made small talk. She found out that he was, in fact, a rising senior at Syracuse as well, but as an Electrical Engineering Major. However, he was on a football scholarship, working for TelCom on his summers, and Fridays during the school year. He was recruited from a small town called Gatlinburg in Tennessee. This intrigued her even more. She found that getting to know him helped distract her from his bare, muscular arms and the pebbled nipples of his that had stood at full attention due to the AC in her apartment.

As she told him she majored in Music with a minor in Design, he looked at her curiously as well, a sure indication that he'd never seen her before. She admitted that aside from her required courses, she didn't participate in many extra curricular activities. She spent more time in the dorms or out with her friends than on campus.

"So… a music major, huh?" he asked, his wide, hazel eyes seeming sincerely interested. "What instrument?"

"Piano," she answered bashfully.

"Oh, nice," he beamed, nodding his head. He chuckled, hitting his forehead with his palm. "Ah, well, duh. That explains the keyboard in the living room."

"Yes, if that's not a clue, I don't know what is," she laughed slightly.

There was a small moment of awkward silence between them as he tightened the last cable. "So you must be good and fast with your hands, then?" he asked, a slight husky tone to his deep voice. He seemed to regret his question just as soon as it came out.

"Uh." She gulped. "You can… say that," she breathed. The chemistry between them was definitely sizzling, and the air was thick with tension.

After testing the reception and confirming the channel line-up of her choice on the order, he excused himself as he headed for her bedroom. Rosalie followed, her heart beating a mile a minute.

She sat on her bed to supervise. She enjoyed the show as she watched him prepare the cables. He leaned over her small television, connecting them to the wall, through her DVD player, and back to the TV. He bent over, trying to get most of it done, and she couldn't help but admire the round, firm buttocks mere feet from her. She unconsciously began to run her hands up and down her thighs, imagining they were his strong hands touching her—caressing her skin.

He turned his head momentarily to smile at her, but the motion of her hands caught his attention, and his eyes followed the trail of her long, creamy legs.

She blushed again as she caught that trail of his sight, and he averted his sight, clearing his throat after gulping to himself.

He was done quickly. He turned on the TV to do another test and confirmation before going back into the living room. He hooked up her telephone line, followed by her modem for the Internet. "All right," he said cheerfully, clapping his large hands together. "Let's get you online."

She walked him back over to the laptop, pulling out the chair of her desk to give him the driver's seat.

He frowned. "A Mac?" he said, teasingly.

"Yeah. What's wrong with a Mac?"

He smiled, chuckling lightly. "Nothing. It's just… different. Not as common."

"Oh," she said, perplexed.

He pointed to himself. "PC guy, you see, just like everyone else."

"Ah." She smirked back at him, knowing the rivalry of both platforms. "So you're upset because I'm not like you?"

"No, not at all," he chuckled again. "I mean, much like its owner… this Mac? It's kind of… extraordinary."

A wave of butterflies crashed through her chest and rolled around in her stomach, causing her heart to start racing once again. He was flirtatiously giving her a compliment. Feeling her cheeks turn red for the fifteenth time, she decided to change the subject. She told him in that it should be quick since her wireless router was already set up from her dorm.

He brought up Safari, typing in the URL for ESPN. "Well, looks like you're live and kicking," he said as the browser went blank and then pulled up the site.

"Really?" she asked, excited, leaning over him to look at the screen. "You don't mind if I check my e-mail while you're here, do you? I want to check that it works fine."

"Go right ahead," Emmett offered, moving aside as Rosalie leaned around him to type in her gmail account.

As she did, though, she caught his scent—a mix of musk and laundry detergent. Even drenched in sweat, he smelled appetizing. She felt his eyes on him, so she turned to look at him.

Their gazes locked together for one small moment, the electricity sizzling in the air. The mere inches separating them was thick with sexual tension. Emmett rose from the seat suddenly, clearing his throat.

"Well, my job is done," he croaked out. He walked to collect his supplies and gather his trash.

She bit her lip, staring at the screen to regain her composure before turning back to him. She forced a smile before standing up straight. "Okay. Thank you so much."

After gathering all of his things, he turned to her, holding his clipboard and a pen up to her. "I just need your autograph right here and here," he instructed.

She nodded and signed her name, handing it to him silently.

He extended his hand out to her. "It was… my pleasure, Miss Hale," he uttered.

She took his hand, shaking it gently. She felt the warm grip of his calloused fingers around hers and felt a jolt of electricity. "Rosalie," she corrected him. "You can call me Rosalie." She couldn't help but wonder about the strange spark at the feel of his hand as she corrected him.

"All right then," Emmett said, his hand still holding hers as the shaking slowed to a complete stop. "Rosalie."

The way his voice sounded when he uttered her name did strange things to her body. Her name rolled off his tongue like velvety dark chocolate. Combined with the fact that his strong grip was still on her hand, she felt a flood of warmth in her panties.

He let go of her hand, embarrassment coloring his face this time. He headed out the door, bidding her farewell. "Thanks for the Coke, by the way," he called as he stepped out of the door.

With a heavy heart and an aching between her thighs, she watched him leave. She couldn't believe how she felt; her emotions and lust for a cable man were tangible and heavy. She shook it off, realizing she needed to take a cold shower.

*****

The next few days were a blur of clubbing, luncheons with friends, and working the KinderCare. Rosalie spent the last four days unable to shake the picture of that technician from her mind: her tall, handsome, football player with dimples for miles. She found herself so intoxicated by him that his face and body flooded her mind constantly. She couldn't shake the attraction, or the chemistry they had within their conversation. Aside from the physical, she was sure there was more between them.

She went to her laptop to download some songs off of iTunes when she realized she couldn't access the iTunes Store. Rosalie wondered if, possibly, her subconscious was looking for a way to see him again. She had to make sure. Figuring it was a glitch in their program, she tested out her email and her Internet browser.

Still no connection.

She walked over to her modem sitting on the stand next to her TV, looking at the row of lights. She noticed some were blinking slowly, while others weren't blinking at all. She knew that they shouldn't be solid lights, so she decided to reset it by unplugging and plugging it back in. Turning back to her laptop, she realized it was a lost cause.

She phoned into TeleCom, forcing herself through the automated voice system before speaking to a live voice; a female operator. After the operator walked her through the steps to ensure that it was, in fact, a bad modem, she then set up an appointment to have her modem replaced the next day for a 10am to 12pm timeslot.

Suddenly Rosalie was full of hope. Could she see her hunky piece of man meat cable guy again? She sighed. She knew with her luck, she wouldn't get the same technician. She frowned as she pictured who would end up showing at her door—some middle aged man with a receding hairline and a beer belly, perhaps.

The next day, she quickly showered and pulled on a pair of khaki Capri pants and a teal colored camisole with a lace neckline. She was thankful for having the time to blow-dry her hair and apply her make-up before anyone showed up in her place. She wanted to be presentable, no matter who it was; though secretly she prayed it was Emmett. She knew how to look her best, yet not seem like she put too much effort into it.

She happened to look out her window at 9:35 while chewing on a strawberry Toaster Strudel and watching The Style Network. Rosalie saw a TelCom van parked out front, but there was no man in sight. She heard a knock on the door. Shit, he's early, she thought. Full of anxiety, she checked herself in the mirror before scurrying over to the door, slowing down as she approached in an effort to try to hide her eagerness. She prepared herself for a let-down, which was more than likely, considering the fact that TelCom has more than just Emmett on their staff. However, butterflies continued to multiply in her stomach as she reached for the handle.

Her heart leaped out of her chest when she met the man behind the door, with his delightful smile framed by his dimples on either side. Her scant memory didn't do him justice, and she allowed her eyes to drink in all of his masculine glory.

His large, laughing eyes stared back at her for a moment before he spoke. "Mornin'," he greeted her, a half smile curling up on one side of his lip. He didn't wear a cap today, and his close cropped, dark brown hair was brushed forward. She couldn't get over just how distinctively handsome he was without anything disrupting the view of his face. "It's me again, Emmett. Here about your internet."

"Hi," was all she could say, gesturing him to enter her apartment. She frowned to herself behind his back as he stepped inside, annoyed that the lame "Hi" was all she had come up with.

He held a brown box – which she assumed contained her new modem – on top of his clipboard. He separated the box from the clipboard from each other, checking out his work order. "So, Miss Hale… looks like I gave you a busted modem last time. I'm sorry about that."

"Oh, no, it's fine," she said with a wave of her hand. "I was able to use it until just yesterday. I went to download some new songs, and it just wouldn't work." She bit her lip as he looked up at her.

He grinned at her slightly before continuing his work. He inspected the current modem closely. "Yeah, it's totally shot," he observed out loud, before disconnecting it. He tore the packaging of the box he carried in with him, pulling out a fresh modem for her.

She watched him test her modem from her couch as she played it off by pretending to watch TV. She knew one of those make-over shows was on, but she couldn't have told you which one.

"This should do it," he said. He turned to her. "Wanna go check?"

"Sure," she said, her voice sounding lonelier than she intended. She felt a sudden pang of insecurity, knowing he was going to leave soon. She got up and tried not to exhibit such a strange emotion to have for a stranger, walking to sit at her desk.

He walked over quickly, leaning to look over her shoulder as she went to Google the word "puppies". She was assaulted again by his wonderful scent.

"Lookin' for a dog?" he kidded, lightly.

She blushed but said nothing in response, keeping her eyes on the computer. It was the first generic search term she could think of.

"Great, looks like we're up and running," he said, as she clicked 'search,' and the browser went to populate the search results for nearby dog breeders.

"Looks like it," she said, nodding her head.

She turned to look at him, but as she did, she realized he was turning to look at her at the same time. "Thanks," she whispered, her voice trembling. His face was a mere two inches from hers.

She looked at his face as his eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips and back. It was obvious to her that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. She gulped, holding herself there as she noticed that he was beginning to inch forward.

She made the smallest movement towards him, when suddenly he cleared his throat noisily, straightening his posture.

"Yeah… uh… I should… go," he choked, turning away from her and gathering his trash from the modem's packaging.

Her stomach fell, the sour feeling of rejection seeping into her gut. "Right," she could barely agree, her voice flat. She stood up, walking him to the door. He handed her his clipboard and a pen, asking her to sign off on the job. Just as she finished scribbling her signature, he was one foot out the door, thanking her quickly.

"Have a great day," he called after himself as he headed down the stairs.

She stood, dumbfounded, as she shut the door after him.

Stupid, she thought to herself. That was so stupid. Why do I have to be such an idiot? Had she imagined it all? Was her attraction to him a one-way street? She collapsed onto her couch, burying her face in her hands as she tried to shake off the humiliation—the rejection. She was frustrated and embarrassed. There was no other explanation for it.

But suddenly she heard a tap at her door, startling her and making her shaky.

Slowly, she walked to the door, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Her heart raced so loud and so fast that she could literally hear it. She didn't know what to expect, but she hoped with all of her might that it was him.

As she swung the door open, her stomach twisted and flipped upside down. She gulped.

Emmett stood before her, his eyes heavy lidded, with nothing in his hands.

"I forgot something," he said to her, his voice sounding husky.

"You did?" she asked. She quickly stepped aside, motioning him in. "What was it that you—"

But abruptly, Rosalie was cut off as he quickly stepped in, shutting the door behind him. Throwing her against the wall, he crashed his lips into hers. Momentary shock passed her before she could respond by returning his kiss, his lips searing and moving against her.

He pulled back to study her expression, intent on finding her consent to move forward in his inappropriate pass at her. He knew he was pushing it; that he could lose his job for this, but he didn't care. He wanted her that much. He was relieved to find that she smiled back at him with her unique, violet-blue irises in a needy gaze, curtained with the drape of her long, dark lashes.

Her heart pounded in her chest so strongly that she was sure he could hear it now. She bit her lip as she folded her arms around him tightly, and his mouth found her lips again. She trembled with apprehension as she kissed him back. Rosalie had never done this before in her life. She was never spontaneous, always rather reserved and poised. Suddenly her desire for this man was the end all of her resolve. She had no willpower to resist him or the offer to have his delicious body. His tongue delved into her mouth, probing, searching—wanting more. She happily obliged.

He pressed his impossibly firm yet soft chest against her body. His kiss was deliciously sweet. He pulled back, and she whimpered at the loss of contact. As he hiked her up, her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and then he turned to throw her against her front door.

*****

Several hot moments later, the tremors of his pleasure ceased. He brought her chin up with his hand suddenly, leaning over to give her a searing kiss for a long moment before pulling away slowly. He hissed through his teeth as he pulled himself away, as it was sensitive from the aftermath of his climax. Suddenly, he ran into the kitchen. "Wait there," he instructed, his voice barely audible.

She bit her lip nervously. He had brought her immense pleasure, bringing her to her own climax several times, but after momentary euphoria of such an action, the weight of its cosequences came crashing down on her. In seconds, reality hit her like a freight train before settling in her gut, weighing her down. She realized that she could've just been used, and he could walk out of the door, and she might never hear from him again.

She slowly rose to her feet, grabbing for her panties and pulled them up over her hips, her legs weakened at the joints. Quick thoughts raced into her mind. She imagined that he'd go to his cable buddies, or his football team, or both, and brag immaturely about his conquest. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

He was in front of her again, taking a couple of paper towels to wipe himself off of her chest.

She guided his hands, helping him cover any area she felt the cool moisture of his fluid.

"There you go," he said.

"Thanks," she replied, her voice small. She avoided eye contact with him, walking on her shaky limbs and trying not to wobble on them as they felt like Jell-O.

He walked away from her to throw the paper towels away, and then he walked back to grab his clothes.

She unwillingly got dressed, feeling a pang of regret and an awkward stupor in his company. Her skin felt like it was poked and prodded with remorse and the icy feeling of uncertainty. As she pulled her pants over her hips she realized he had walked to close the distance between them.

His mouth was on hers immediately, his hands coming up to encase her on either side of her face gently with the light touch of his fingers. Her eyelids closed automatically, but she was scared to enjoy it. The kiss was oddly sweet and gentle as well, sending shivers down her spine, but her lips moved against him unsurely this time. "I've got to get to my next job," he explained in a soft voice, pulling an inch from her. His head rested on hers as he did so.

She kept her eyes shut. She didn't want to see him walk away. She was almost sure that this was the last time she'd ever hear from him. Regret pricked at the skin all over her body as she realized the connection she felt with him might be a one way street. Wordlessly, she nodded, insecurity inflating her chest and rising like a bubble in her throat.

He pulled away, and she felt the pain at the loss of contact from him. What did I just do, she thought, chastising herself. She opened her eyes and stared at the floor, watching his feet walk towards the door.

As he did so, his eyes studied her over his shoulder, and suddenly he stopped at the door. "I'm done around six thirty tonight," he volunteered.

Her head whipped up at his words, her eyes reluctantly meeting his gaze.

"I was wondering if maybe you'd like to have dinner with me," he said, his voice sounding a bit apprehensive. "I'd hate to have to leave you like this, you know."

As she looked at his expression, she realized the vulnerability that resigned there just then. The details of his face gave away the nervousness he felt within the arch of his brow and the way his lips curled down on the sides. His eyes held sincerity; his irises were soft pools of hazel liquid.

"Are… are you sure?" she asked timidly, her voice cracking. She was mortified that her insecurity was audibly evident.

He furrowed his brows, walking over to her again before cupping her face in his warm, calloused palms. "I want to see you again," he uttered, slowly. "Please go out with me tonight."

She shut her eyes in relief; the honesty was palpable in his voice. "Yes," she sighed.

Suddenly, he pulled a pen and piece of paper out of his pocket and scribbled something, using his large left hand as his tablet. Handing it over to her, he then said, "That's my personal cell phone. I can call you using the number on the order form, correct?"

"Yeah, that's my cell number," she breathed, her voice shaky.

"Great," he breathed, a smile cracking on his face. A beep from his phone happened, a sound she recognized as a Nextel walky-talky. "Damn, that's work," he groaned. He walked for the door as she followed close behind him.

He turned to her slowly, placing a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. "I'll see you later," he whispered.

She nodded, and with that she watched his figure walk away and down the stairs to his car.

Relief washed over her as she collapsed on her couch, his scent still lingering on her skin and clothes in his wake. However, neither his reassurance, nor his number was a complete cure to her insecurity.

He called her at 6:20, right when he was leaving his last job, arranging to meet her at 7:30. Her insecurity was blown away as the night that followed turned out to be the greatest first date of her life.

The connection between them was proven to be reciprocal, forging a strong relationship between these two strangers. That undeniable chemistry took them all the way through to her graduation day, and they committed to live together afterwards. The chain of events brought them to their fate. On the anniversary of the big move-in, she stood in front of him with teary eyes as he got on one knee with a sparkling diamond ring in his hand.

She said yes.


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