She handed me the screwdriver, our fingers brushing for just a second longer than necessary. My throat suddenly felt dry, but I focused on the loose cabinet door in front of me. Just a small favor, I reminded myself, trying to ignore the way her presence seemed to fill the room.“Thanks for helping out,” she said, her voice soft, almost like a whisper. She leaned against the counter, watching me as I tightened the hinges. I could feel her eyes on me, and it made my hands unsteady for a moment. “No problem,” I replied, keeping my tone casual. It’s just a cabinet, I told myself. You’ve done this a million times.But it wasn’t just the cabinet. She was wearing those shorts again—the soft, cotton ones that hugged her thighs just right. Her shirt hung loosely, the fabric catching the sunlight filtering through the window. Every time she moved, I caught a glimpse of her bare legs, smooth and tan. I forced myself to look away, tightening the last screw with more force than necessary.“Done,” I announced, stepping back. My voice sounded louder than I intended, and she smiled at that—a small, knowing smile that made my heart skip.“Perfect,” she said, pouring me a glass of iced tea from the pitcher on the counter. “Here, take a break. You’ve earned it.”I took the glass, our fingers brushing again. This time, I didn’t pull away as quickly. She didn’t either. Her hand lingered for a moment before she turned and walked over to the couch, stretching out with a soft sigh.“My back’s killing me today,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at me. There was something in her tone—something that made my stomach tighten. I hesitated, unsure if I should say anything, but the words slipped out before I could stop them.“Want me to… try rubbing it?” Stupid, I thought immediately. Why did you say that?But she didn’t laugh or brush me off. Instead, she shifted slightly, pulling the collar of her shirt off her shoulder. “If you don’t mind,” she said quietly.I froze for a moment, then set the glass down and walked over to the couch. She was lying on her side, her body relaxed but her shirt slipping just enough to reveal the curve of her shoulder. I sat behind her, my hands hovering for a second before I placed them gently on her back.Her skin was warm beneath my palms, and I started with light pressure, working my way up from her shoulders. She let out a soft breath, sinking deeper into the couch. I could feel the tension in her muscles slowly melting away as my thumbs moved in small circles.“You’re good at this,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. It sent a shiver down my spine, and I had to remind myself to breathe. My hands moved lower, tracing the line of her spine until they reached the hem of her shirt. I paused, unsure if I should go any further, but then she leaned back into me, her body pressing gently against mine.Her head rested lightly against my chest, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing, slow and steady but undeniably in sync. My hand drifted to her waist, settling there as if it belonged. She didn’t pull away.Her fingers brushed against my thigh, the touch so light it was almost imperceptible. But it was enough to send a jolt through me. My heart was pounding now, every nerve in my body hyper-aware of her warmth, her nearness.Neither of us spoke. The silence between us was heavy with something unspoken, something building in the air like static before a storm. I wanted to lean in closer, to see what would happen if I pressed my lips to the curve of her shoulder, but I didn’t. Not yet.She sighed softly, closing her eyes as her fingers trailed up my arm. “You know,” she whispered,…

She handed me the screwdriver, our fingers brushing for just a second longer than necessary. My throat suddenly felt dry, but I focused on the loose cabinet door in front of me. *Just a small favor,* I reminded myself, trying to ignore the way her presence seemed to fill the room.

“Thanks for helping out,” she said, her voice soft, almost like a whisper. She leaned against the counter, watching me as I tightened the hinges. I could feel her eyes on me, and it made my hands unsteady for a moment. 

“No problem,” I replied, keeping my tone casual. *It’s just a cabinet,* I told myself. *You’ve done this a million times.*

But it wasn’t just the cabinet. She was wearing those shorts again—the soft, cotton ones that hugged her thighs just right. Her shirt hung loosely, the fabric catching the sunlight filtering through the window. Every time she moved, I caught a glimpse of her bare legs, smooth and tan. I forced myself to look away, tightening the last screw with more force than necessary.

“Done,” I announced, stepping back. My voice sounded louder than I intended, and she smiled at that—a small, knowing smile that made my heart skip.

“Perfect,” she said, pouring me a glass of iced tea from the pitcher on the counter. “Here, take a break. You’ve earned it.”

I took the glass, our fingers brushing again. This time, I didn’t pull away as quickly. She didn’t either. Her hand lingered for a moment before she turned and walked over to the couch, stretching out with a soft sigh.

“My back’s killing me today,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at me. There was something in her tone—something that made my stomach tighten. I hesitated, unsure if I should say anything, but the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Want me to… try rubbing it?” *Stupid,* I thought immediately. *Why did you say that?*

But she didn’t laugh or brush me off. Instead, she shifted slightly, pulling the collar of her shirt off her shoulder. “If you don’t mind,” she said quietly.

I froze for a moment, then set the glass down and walked over to the couch. She was lying on her side, her body relaxed but her shirt slipping just enough to reveal the curve of her shoulder. I sat behind her, my hands hovering for a second before I placed them gently on her back.

Her skin was warm beneath my palms, and I started with light pressure, working my way up from her shoulders. She let out a soft breath, sinking deeper into the couch. I could feel the tension in her muscles slowly melting away as my thumbs moved in small circles.

“You’re good at this,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. It sent a shiver down my spine, and I had to remind myself to breathe. My hands moved lower, tracing the line of her spine until they reached the hem of her shirt. I paused, unsure if I should go any further, but then she leaned back into me, her body pressing gently against mine.

Her head rested lightly against my chest, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing, slow and steady but undeniably in sync. My hand drifted to her waist, settling there as if it belonged. She didn’t pull away.

Her fingers brushed against my thigh, the touch so light it was almost imperceptible. But it was enough to send a jolt through me. My heart was pounding now, every nerve in my body hyper-aware of her warmth, her nearness.

Neither of us spoke. The silence between us was heavy with something unspoken, something building in the air like static before a storm. I wanted to lean in closer, to see what would happen if I pressed my lips to the curve of her shoulder, but I didn’t. Not yet.

She sighed softly, closing her eyes as her fingers trailed up my arm. “You know,” she whispered,…

A young man finds himself increasingly drawn to an older, single family friend as he helps her with a simple home repair. The innocent favor turns into a charged encounter as a back rub leads to a tense, unspoken sexual tension between them.

She Asked for a Backrub, But Didn't Want Me to Stop

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