Author's Note: Just so you know, I am at work right now, eyeballing the sexy maintenance man who may or may not resemble a certain Norse Viking, while my Muse whispers dirty Askars related nothings in my ear. Suffice to say, nothing is getting accomplished at work. Hopefully no one notices.
A rich laugh echoed through the dim, open area as I remained caught in his gaze like a tiny fish, hypnotized in the glow of an Angler's light.
"I'd at least like to know your name before we get to that."
Good lord. What?
I must have been slack-jawed or maybe had a vacant expression that he misinterpreted for a concussion because he sobered as he studied me before speaking.
"Are you alright?" Heat flamed my face as I blushed, looking down. I realized that I was still just standing there, mouth agape after nearly plowing him over.
Suck it up, Stackhouse.
Oh, lord. He's still touching me.
I could feel the head from his body lapping against me in waves. Between that and the scent of freshly cut wood and soap, I was barely in control of my senses. I'm sure my eyes were glazing over. Greedily, I inhaled deeply, which had the opposite reaction and actually steadied me a bit.
"Yes," I murmured. "I'm alright and sorry for running you over. I didn't think anyone else was still here." I managed to get it out without stumbling over myself. A step in the right direction. I looked up and could see the amusement in his eyes. His mouth was quirked in a half smile. Wow, his lips were full and looked so soft, standing out in comparison to the scruff on his face. I stopped myself from raising my fingers to his mouth.
Don't look at his lips!
Fuck.
And he was laughing at me.
Unbelievable!
I stepped back, allowing myself some breathing room before arranging my face in the most dignified look I could manage before speaking.
"Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to get through if I want to make it home tonight." I tucked a few loose strands of hair that had managed to escape my ponytail behind my ear as I bent down to pick up my boxes.
"Of course, Miss…" He trailed off leaning against the edge of one of the cages, effectively blocking my way down the narrow walkway, waiting for me to fill in the blank.
"Stackhouse. Sookie Stackhouse." I supplied as I brushed past him. Amusement radiated off him as I squeezed past him, my arms feeling an electric current as they brushed his. I barely heard him fall in step beside me before lifting the boxes from my hands, though I did not acknowledge that he had taken them.
"My name is Eric." He informed me.
Good. Now I had a name to moan while I took care of myself later.
Ugh! Focus! He's still talking!
"I figured you might want to know since we've never introduced ourselves in all this time that we've worked together." And with knowledge of my unintentional snub out in the open, my manners kicked into overdrive.
"Oh my goodness, you're right, Eric! I'm so sorry. I hadn't realized. How rude of me?" I was genuinely abashed at my behavior considering the offhanded flirting and eye-groping I had been enjoying. "Well, I certainly appreciate you carrying those boxes and it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister…." I trailed off in the same fashion he did, smiling at the intentional parallel.
"Northman. Eric Northman." He replied smiling.
"Well, Mr. Northman, I do apologize for my rudeness. Now that I know your name, I will be sure not to forget it." He had propped the boxes up against the side of the cage as I spoke.
"Good. Thank you, Ms. Stackhouse." He cracked a small, lopsided grin with just a hint of an eyebrow raise. "I'll let you get back to work now." He took another step towards me. I tilted my head back, unconsciously taking a step backwards. I felt the chain link door of the cage flatten against my back. His smile widened as he continued. "If you need anything, any help, I'll be in the office finishing some paperwork."
I nodded mutely, watching as he strode confidently across the room to his office.
Man, what a view.
He HAD to know what he was doing to me.
I shifted uncomfortably as my panties had become slightly damp. I heard the chair in the office squeak as he sat and shortly thereafter, the tell-tale sound of him typing. I glanced down at my list. I still had a long way to go. I groaned aloud, before reaching for the next 2008 box. I quickly managed a rhythm in pulling files, checking them off my list, tossing them on the growing stack before closing the box and moving on to the next. I stopped again forty five minutes later. I was sweating and covered in dust. Quite nasty. I quickly trotted to the door to the stairs, glancing in at Eric still on his computer. He was rolling his head back, stretching his neck. I quickly scooted out the door before he could catch me ogling again.
Get a grip, girl.
That man is all sorts of distracting.
I chuckled at my inner griping as I descended the stairs. I hurried to the kitchen to grab a cold bottle of water. Opening it, I took a sip before heading back upstairs. I was about three quarters of the way finished with my project. If I hustled, it would take maybe another 10 minutes to finish gathering files.
As I crested the stairs, I took another swig of water, while pushing open the door. The sight before me stopped me dead in my tracks.
Eric stood beneath one of the bulbs nearest to his office, casting him into high contrast and shadow. He was in the process of taking his shirt off, leaving me the perfect view of his abdominal and pectoral muscles moving with fluidity as he pulled the polo over his head. My breath hitched, as the bottle stilled at my mouth. I felt water miss my mouth, sluicing over my jaw and down my throat to drip past my blouse's neckline.
"Ms. Stackhouse." He murmured.
Was that an accent I heard?
Why hadn't I noticed that before?
"Sookie." His voice was heady and thick. He had to be feeling it. "I believe you're all wet."
My knees nearly buckled right there.
"Pardon?" I managed to get out.
He leaned his head closer to mine; his scent overwhelming me as he inhaled silently near the nape of my neck. A quiet rumble reverberated deep in his throat, barely audible as he brought up his shirt, patting it first against my jaw, before dragging it gently along the curve of my throat before dipping down to breasts.
My head was spinning and I was overly warm. His chest was eye level and all I wanted to do was nip along his collar bone. His head was still hovering above the curve of my neck so I did something that I never did.
I acted on impulse.