Handyman
She edged farther up the ladder, her toned arms stretched overhead, pulling the hem of her shirt up so that if he tilted his head ever so slightly he could see the indent of her navel and the soft curves of her abdomen.
Fine, soft hairs caught in the sunlight and he found himself wondering if it would tickle should he give into the temptation and blow on them.
She gave a soft grunt, drawing his eyes away from her skin. She shifted and the smoothness of her calf rubbed his cheek.
"Oops. Sorry, Cloud." She glanced down at him, flashed a quick smile. "I'm almost done." She twisted the light bulb between her long fingers.
The palms of his own hands itched fiercely.
She wobbled a bit as she started back down the rungs. "I never really thought about how high these ceilings were when I bought the place," she told him, her curvaceous backside coming closer and closer. "Thanks for the help."
"No problem." He stepped back from the ladder, wiped his hands on his pants. "Anything else need fixing?"
"Actually, yeah." She told him over her shoulder. "The pipes under the bar sink keep leaking. No matter how much I've tried I can't get it to stop." She opened the cupboard and squatted down. "See?"
Cloud bit his cheek and nodded. It was going to be a long afternoon, he thought, casually adjusting his pants. But as she hefted the wrench toward him and smiled up at him with eyes shining and her dimple showing, he decided a little discomfort was a small price to pay for being her handyman.