"Do you need a hand?"
He turns his head slightly, balancing a shelf against the wall with one hand while he holds a bracket in place underneath it. "That would be great, thanks," he replies. "Just put your hand here."
I step up and replace his hand with mine on the shelf, and then realize I'll need both hands to keep it from tilting sideways. I shuffle forward and brace myself slightly on the wall as I support both ends of the wood. Thankfully it isn't heavy.
He's already bending down toward his toolbox, and I get a good eyeful of his firm ass in his tight-fitting blue jeans. I sigh quietly, shifting my eyes away before he straightens up again.
"Just a second while I mark where these brackets need to go," he explains, touching my hand briefly as he holds up one of the dark metal brackets that go under each end of the shelf. The scratching of the pencil while he marks the drill holes gives me goose bumps.
"Stay right there," he says. He reaches the hand holding the bracket under my arm and then breathes out a laugh as our shoulders bump. "Whoops, let me try it this way." He steps around me, almost crowding me from behind rather than stepping up next to me. It makes sense; there isn't quite enough room on that side with the dining table right next to us.
His eyes are fixed on the bracket and pencil in his hands, while I'm distracted by the brush of his hip against my side. There's a moment of firmer contact, like he's leaning into me, and then he's gone again.
I glance down as he rummages in his toolbox. "Should I stay here?"
"Please." His eyes flick up to mine. "We're almost done."
I look away, tossing my hair behind my shoulder and shrugging slightly to brush it out of my face. Suddenly the presence behind me is back, and he's unmistakably touching me. I can feel his entire torso leaning up against my back, his hips aligned with my ass and his hands sliding down my arms. He stops with his hands covering mine, his lips grazing my ear.
