Trapped

"What now?" I snap. If he'd bloody say something it would not be so bad, but he just watches.

I go to walk past him and he sticks a lean jean clad leg up on the chair
opposite, blocking my path. With a huff of irritation, I turn to go back the
other way but he brings that foot up too, planting his boot with a solid
finality that effectively traps me between his legs.


He says nothing, just watches me in that way that always leaves me off-kilter. And he knows it.

It is hot out here, even with the shade of the porch and I see the thin line of sweat running from under his arm , setting a trail to his jeans, as he lifts one arm to set his hat farther back on his head. I swallow hard, taken with a sudden desire to follow that salty droplet in its course.


So focussed on that thought am I that I'm startled when he snakes a long arm out and snares me by the waist band of my shorts, the play of muscles in his forearm evident under his high summer tan. Tugging slightly, he easily pulls me into the junction of his splayed legs until all I can feel is the heat of him and my pulse thrumming in my ears as he turns a long slow look my way and quirks the corner of his mouth. I let go a breath I did not know I'd been holdng. Not too unhappy with what he sees, then.

"Look what I caught", he purrs.