Brock pulled the scraps of his once skin-tight t-shirt over his head. It was like one of those scenes in a movie, everything in slow motion: his golden skin shining with sweat, the thick smell of his body washing over me, his blonde chest hairs glittering down toward his naval and disappearing into the waist of his Levis. I swear I saw a bead of perspiration roll down from his neck and into the soft fluff of hair on his chest and disappear. My mouth salivated at the thought of kissing his salty flesh. I noticed the shredded shirt falling to the ground and looked back up to his face. Had he seen me staring?
I turned away, blushing, I could feel it.
"It doesn't look like the alligator roughed you up too bad," I blurted out, desperate to mask my sudden fit of girlishness. "Yeah...I'm fine. Just a scrape."
"Still.." I turned back toward him, gauze in hand, and moved in closer. It felt strange to stand next to such a large man, and his aroma was stronger now, intense even. I felt nervous, afraid.
"I really can't thank you enough. That alligator has been terrorizing this town for nearly a century. The natives believed it was a god. We never thought we could be rid of it."
He winced suddenly as I dabbed alcohol on the deepest cut. "Oh! I'm sorry!" Our eyes met. His were tense at first, almost void, until he caught sight of something in mine and smirked. My heart was beating fast before, but it exploded now. His smirk curled into a smile; he wouldn't take his eyes off of me. I could feel my whole body tingle with fresh pearls of sweat.
"So I..I see you're a Zeppelin man..I'm uh-" Before I could finish, his large, rough hand closed around my wrist as I dabbed his wounds, and with his other arm he encircled my waist.
"Baby, I'm Icarus."
