The knock was unexpected. I froze mid-stretch, my phone slipping from my fingers onto the couch. The silk robe I wore—a lazy indulgence for a quiet afternoon—shifted with the movement, the fabric sliding down my shoulder, the tie at my waist loosening further. Shit. I glanced down, catching the glimpse of bare skin exposed just above my inner thigh, the robe’s slit parting far higher than I’d intended. A fresh shave—silken, smooth—and now, apparently, on display.I hesitated. I could ignore it. But curiosity got the better of me. Besides, who even stopped by unannounced at this hour? The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue over the room, and I stood, the robe swishing around my legs as I made my way to the door. The tie of the robe hung precariously, barely keeping the fabric together. Doesn’t matter, I thought, brushing it off. It was probably just a delivery person. Knock. Knock. I pulled the door open, and there he stood—older, tall, with a sharp jawline and eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. His gaze dropped instantly, and I watched as his expression shifted. His lips parted slightly, his breath hitching, and his eyes widened in a way that made my stomach flutter. For a moment, neither of us moved. The air between us thickened, charged with something unspoken. His eyes traced the line of my thigh, the smooth skin peeking through the careless folds of the robe, before flicking back up to mine. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver down my spine, heat pooling low in my belly. I should’ve closed the robe. I should’ve laughed it off, made some joke to diffuse the tension. But instead, I lingered there, letting the silence stretch, enjoying the way his composure seemed to fracture. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and I felt a strange, thrilling sense of power—the kind that comes from knowing you’ve caught someone off guard, knowing they’re seeing something they shouldn’t. “Uh—” He cleared his throat, his voice rough, and I could see the struggle in his eyes as he tried to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “I’m here to—uh—fix the sink. The landlord said you had a leak?” “Oh.” I tilted my head, letting the robe slip just a fraction lower on my shoulder. “Right. The sink.” I stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. “It’s in the kitchen.” He hesitated, his gaze darting to the robe again before he stepped inside, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. I closed the door behind him, the click of the latch sounding loud in the quiet apartment. “I wasn’t expecting you,” I said, my voice soft, almost teasing. “I would’ve dressed… differently.” He glanced at me, his expression unreadable, but I caught the way his jaw tightened. “I tried calling,” he said, his voice strained. “No answer.” “Hmm.” I bit my lip, feigning innocence. “Must’ve missed it.” He nodded, but his eyes were still on me, like he couldn’t help it. And I didn’t stop him. Instead, I let the robe shift as I walked past him toward the kitchen, the fabric swaying with each step, exposing just a little more with every movement. I could feel his gaze burning into me, and it made my heart race, a thrill coursing through me. The kitchen was small, the sink tucked into the corner. He followed me in, his presence filling the space, and I leaned casually against the counter, watching him as he set his toolbox down. He knelt in front of the sink, his back to me, and I couldn’t help but admire the way his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders. “So,” I said, my voice light, “do you do this often?” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Do what?” “Show up at women’s apartments unannounced.” I gave him a small smile, letting my robe slip just a little more, the fabric now barely covering my chest. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes darkening, before he turned back to the sink. “Only when there’s a leak,” he said, his voice low. “Lucky me,” I murmured, leaning forward just enough to give him a glimpse of cleavage. He froze, his hands stilling on the pipes, and I could see the tension in his shoulders. “You should—” He cleared his throat again. “You should probably put something on. This might take a while.” “Why?” I asked, feigning confusion. “It’s hot in here, don’t you think?” He didn’t answer, but I could see the way his knuckles whitened as he gripped the wrench. I stepped closer, the robe swaying with my movements, and knelt beside him, my arm brushing against his. “Need any help?” I asked, my voice dripping with innocence. He turned his head slowly, his eyes meeting mine, and I could see the war raging in them—the struggle between professionalism and desire. “You’re making this… difficult,” he said finally, his voice rough. I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “Maybe that’s the point.” He exhaled sharply, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body tensed at my proximity. His eyes flicked down to my lips, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. But instead, he stood abruptly, stepping back, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. “You shouldn’t—” He stopped, his voice faltering. “This isn’t—” I stood, letting the robe part further, exposing the curve of my hip, the smooth line of my thigh. “Isn’t what?” I asked, my voice soft, almost teasing. He stared at me, his jaw clenched, and I could see the conflict in his eyes—the way he was fighting to maintain control. “You know what,” he said finally, his voice strained. I stepped closer, my hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm. “Do I?” He didn’t move, but I could see the way his breath hitched, the way his eyes darkened with desire. And then, finally, he reached for me—

An unexpected knock at the door interrupts my lazy afternoon; a man, sent to fix the sink, arrives unannounced. I answer the door in a silk robe, exposing more skin than intended, and he struggles to maintain his composure. I tease him, letting the robe slip further as I offer help, and he eventually reaches for me.

The knock was unexpected. I froze mid-stretch, my phone slipping from my fingers onto the couch. The silk robe I wore—a lazy indulgence for a quiet afternoon—shifted with the movement, the fabric sliding down my shoulder, the tie at my waist loosening further. _Shit._ I glanced down, catching the glimpse of bare skin exposed just above my inner thigh, the robe’s slit parting far higher than I’d intended. A fresh shave—silken, smooth—and now, apparently, on display.

I hesitated. _I could ignore it._ But curiosity got the better of me. Besides, who even stopped by unannounced at this hour? The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue over the room, and I stood, the robe swishing around my legs as I made my way to the door. 

The tie of the robe hung precariously, barely keeping the fabric together. _Doesn’t matter,_ I thought, brushing it off. It was probably just a delivery person. 

*Knock. Knock.* 

I pulled the door open, and there he stood—older, tall, with a sharp jawline and eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. His gaze dropped instantly, and I watched as his expression shifted. His lips parted slightly, his breath hitching, and his eyes widened in a way that made my stomach flutter. 

For a moment, neither of us moved. The air between us thickened, charged with something unspoken. His eyes traced the line of my thigh, the smooth skin peeking through the careless folds of the robe, before flicking back up to mine. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver down my spine, heat pooling low in my belly. 

I should’ve closed the robe. I should’ve laughed it off, made some joke to diffuse the tension. But instead, I lingered there, letting the silence stretch, enjoying the way his composure seemed to fracture. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and I felt a strange, thrilling sense of power—the kind that comes from knowing you’ve caught someone off guard, knowing they’re seeing something they shouldn’t. 

“Uh—” He cleared his throat, his voice rough, and I could see the struggle in his eyes as he tried to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “I’m here to—uh—fix the sink. The landlord said you had a leak?” 

“Oh.” I tilted my head, letting the robe slip just a fraction lower on my shoulder. “Right. The sink.” I stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. “It’s in the kitchen.” 

He hesitated, his gaze darting to the robe again before he stepped inside, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. I closed the door behind him, the click of the latch sounding loud in the quiet apartment. 

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said, my voice soft, almost teasing. “I would’ve dressed… differently.” 

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable, but I caught the way his jaw tightened. “I tried calling,” he said, his voice strained. “No answer.” 

“Hmm.” I bit my lip, feigning innocence. “Must’ve missed it.” 

He nodded, but his eyes were still on me, like he couldn’t help it. And I didn’t stop him. Instead, I let the robe shift as I walked past him toward the kitchen, the fabric swaying with each step, exposing just a little more with every movement. I could feel his gaze burning into me, and it made my heart race, a thrill coursing through me. 

The kitchen was small, the sink tucked into the corner. He followed me in, his presence filling the space, and I leaned casually against the counter, watching him as he set his toolbox down. He knelt in front of the sink, his back to me, and I couldn’t help but admire the way his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders. 

“So,” I said, my voice light, “do you do this often?” 

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Do what?” 

“Show up at women’s apartments unannounced.” I gave him a small smile, letting my robe slip just a little more, the fabric now barely covering my chest. 

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes darkening, before he turned back to the sink. “Only when there’s a leak,” he said, his voice low. 

“Lucky me,” I murmured, leaning forward just enough to give him a glimpse of cleavage. 

He froze, his hands stilling on the pipes, and I could see the tension in his shoulders. “You should—” He cleared his throat again. “You should probably put something on. This might take a while.” 

“Why?” I asked, feigning confusion. “It’s hot in here, don’t you think?” 

He didn’t answer, but I could see the way his knuckles whitened as he gripped the wrench. I stepped closer, the robe swaying with my movements, and knelt beside him, my arm brushing against his. 

“Need any help?” I asked, my voice dripping with innocence. 

He turned his head slowly, his eyes meeting mine, and I could see the war raging in them—the struggle between professionalism and desire. “You’re making this… difficult,” he said finally, his voice rough. 

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “Maybe that’s the point.” 

He exhaled sharply, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body tensed at my proximity. His eyes flicked down to my lips, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. But instead, he stood abruptly, stepping back, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. 

“You shouldn’t—” He stopped, his voice faltering. “This isn’t—” 

I stood, letting the robe part further, exposing the curve of my hip, the smooth line of my thigh. “Isn’t what?” I asked, my voice soft, almost teasing. 

He stared at me, his jaw clenched, and I could see the conflict in his eyes—the way he was fighting to maintain control. “You know what,” he said finally, his voice strained. 

I stepped closer, my hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm. “Do I?” 

He didn’t move, but I could see the way his breath hitched, the way his eyes darkened with desire. And then, finally, he reached for me—

A woman, comfortable and uninhibited in her own space, finds herself unexpectedly exposed to a stranger who arrives to fix a leak. The encounter quickly escalates into a tense, charged dynamic, with the woman deliberately using her allure to unsettle the older man and explore her own exhibitionist desires. A power struggle ensues, as the man grapples with professionalism and desire, while the woman revels in her control and the thrill of the forbidden.

I Didn’t Mean to Show Him, But I Loved How He Looked

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