Chapter 7 #2
“I need to take your measurements, Sheriff. Can’t do that through layers of polyester blend.” He gestured impatiently. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”
“You can measure over my undershirt,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.
Xavier rolled his eyes. “Fine. But the pants need to come off too. I need accurate inseam measurements.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh for god’s sake.” He crossed his arms, the measuring tape dangling from one hand. “I’ve measured hundreds of men, Marcus. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”
That wasn’t the point, and we both knew it. The point was that I was already struggling to keep my body under control around him, and the last thing I needed was to be standing in my underwear while his hands were all over me with that measuring tape.
“Boxer briefs or boxers?” he asked casually, like he was asking about the weather.
“That’s none of your business.”
“I need to know for the fit. Boxer briefs, right? You seem like a boxer briefs kind of guy.” His eyes traveled down my body in a way that made my skin feel too hot. “Probably gray or black. Nothing too adventurous.”
He was right, of course. I owned exactly three colors of underwear: black, gray, and navy blue. But I wasn’t about to admit that to him.
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, but my hands were already moving to unbutton my shirt. “And if you tell anyone about this—”
“Who would I tell? Lucas? He already knows I’m fitting you.” Xavier moved closer, watching as I shrugged out of my uniform shirt. “Besides, I’m a professional. This is just work.”
Just work. Right. Except the way his eyes widened slightly when I revealed my thick, dark chest hair suggested it might not be entirely just work for him either. I pulled the undershirt over my head, acutely aware of how his gaze tracked the movement, lingering on my chest and abs.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You really are in good shape.”
I tried not to react to his comment, keeping my expression neutral even though my pulse kicked up a notch. “I work out,” I said simply, which was the understatement of the century. Working out was the only thing that kept me sane most days.
“Clearly.” Xavier stepped closer, bringing that citrus scent with him, and lifted the measuring tape. “Arms up.”
I raised my arms, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
His fingers brushed against my skin as he wrapped the tape around my chest, and I had to concentrate on keeping my breathing steady.
He was so close I could see the individual lashes framing those light brown eyes, could count the faint freckles scattered across his nose that his tan almost hid.
“Breathe normally,” he murmured, his breath warm against my collarbone. “You’re holding it in.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and his hands moved with practiced efficiency, calling out numbers that I assumed he was memorizing. He measured my shoulders, my arms, my waist, each touch professional but somehow intimate in the quiet of the room.
“Now the pants,” he said, stepping back.
I hesitated, my hands going to my belt buckle. This was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake. But I was already here, already half-naked, and backing out now would just make it more obvious that he was getting to me.
I unbuckled my belt and shucked off my uniform pants, folding them carefully and setting them on the chair. Standing there in my gray boxer briefs I felt more naked than if I’d actually been naked.
“Told you,” Xavier said with a smirk, gesturing at my underwear. “Gray boxer briefs.”
“Just get this over with,” I muttered.
He knelt down in front of me, and that was somehow worse.
His face was level with my dick, and I had to think about crime statistics and Mrs. Henderson’s yappy dog and literally anything else to keep my distracted.
It didn’t work though because I felt the fabric of my boxer briefs growing tighter.
It was only then that I started to truly panic.
“Step out a bit,” he instructed, tapping my ankle. “I need to get the inseam.”
I widened my stance, and he ran the tape up the inside of my leg with agonizing slowness. His knuckles brushed against my inner thigh, and I felt my cock twitch in response. No. Absolutely not. I could not get hard while Xavier Hart measured me for a suit.
“You okay up there, Sheriff?” he asked, and I could hear the amusement in his voice. “You’re very tense.”
“I’m fine,” I ground out through clenched teeth.
“Mm-hmm.” He switched to my other leg, repeating the process. “You know, most people relax when they’re getting fitted. This isn’t a medical exam.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered.
And then, to my absolute horror, he looked up and the tip of my mostly hard dick booped him right on the fucking nose.
I could’ve died on the spot.
Xavier’s eyes went wide, and for once in his life, he seemed completely speechless. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again like a fish gasping for air. The measuring tape slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud.
I wanted to spontaneously combust. Or maybe run out of the room and never come back. Instead, I just stood there frozen, my half-hard dick still pointing directly at his face while my brain screamed at me to do literally anything other than stand there like a statue.
“I—” I started, but no other words would come out. What was I supposed to say? Sorry my dick just assaulted your nose? My bad, didn’t mean to basically teabag you while you were trying to do your job?
Xavier sat back on his heels, blinking up at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
Shock? Amusement? Horror? Maybe all three at once.
A flush had crept up his neck and into his cheeks, and I realized with a jolt that he was blushing.
Xavier Hart, the man who wore crop tops that said “Slut” in glitter, was actually blushing.
“Well,” he said finally, his voice coming out slightly higher than normal. He cleared his throat. “That’s... that’s a first.”
“I’m sorry,” I managed to choke out, my face burning so hot I was surprised my skin wasn’t literally melting off my skull. I turned around, grabbing my pants and forcing them on. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t trying to—”
“It’s fine,” he said quickly, scrambling to his feet and putting some distance between us. “It’s totally fine. These things happen. Bodies react. It’s natural. Completely natural.”
But it definitely wasn’t fine. I didn’t want him to know that he had an effect on me. And now… there was no way to hide it.
I buttoned my pants, slipped on my boots, and grabbed my shirt before heading to the door.
“Wait, I still need to—” Xavier started.
But I was already out the door and practically running out of the house. Even when I realized I’d have to walk all the way back to Sagebrush, I didn’t stop. I was too embarrassed, too mortified, and far too turned on to go back.
If I spent another moment with Xavier, I wouldn’t be able to resist him any longer. And that was unacceptable.