Please Help with My Essay Sir

This was one of those rare days where I had to bring my workload home which got in the way of the family activities I had in mind.

I sighed and leaned on my seat. What a bummer! Right now, I'm revising several pieces of paperwork from scratch I made earlier in the day while Gramps and Grandmama spent two days in Miami, and I was left to be their house's miserable caretaker.

Truth is, this wasn't so bad. Except that I was left here alone with my undrafted research paper that was due three weeks from now.

Instead of celebrating this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to spend time with my grandparents, I, Willow Johnson, a twenty-three-year-old psychology student majoring in behavioral psychology, was sulking in my room. Fun fact: I'm in the process of writing a research paper about love and sex--and the behavioral patterns we exhibit because of them--despite being a complete virgin.

At first, I didn't think it would be a problem. But oh boy, was I wrong. Just writing the introduction had me gagging--begging the gods to let the words flow. But that's not how it works, especially when you have zero experience, no matter how much research you've done watching porn. I had no clue what an orgasm actually felt like, and I sure as hell had never experienced having a cock shoved into this dry, worthless, tiny hole below the pits of hell.

It was upsetting and somewhat self-deprecating to realize that someone didn't desire you the way you wanted to be desired. But after a while, you just learned to go with the flow, letting fate--or whoever the hell was in charge--decide where you ended up.

And honestly, it wasn't hard to see why I didn't exactly scream desirable. A short bob with thin bangs, oversized square glasses, and a baggy sweatshirt I wore like armor to hide my scrawny frame. I hated the way people stared, their eyes flickering with silent judgment as if trying to decide whether I was homeless or just battling some kind of eating disorder. Well, screw them! The truth is, I was only insecure about how skinny I was no matter how much I ate. The small titties were minus points to my already lacking assets. But that wasn't all that was missing. I was also lacking--like I've said before--experience--with men, in particular.

I sighed in frustration, shoving my laptop back into its sleeve before flopping onto my bed. My eyes drifted to the clock above me--6 o'clock in the evening, and I had nothing left to do but sulk.

I'd wasted most of my day obsessing over how to gather samples on climaxing and its supposed benefits for building, allegedly, stronger connections with a sexual partner. And yet, here I was, stuck at a dead end, unable to write a single word. I hadn't even gathered enough data, mostly because I lacked the motivation to start.

My eyes focused on the ceiling above. I've been doing this for the last year and a half, but still, no progress! I needed a solution, and fast. I couldn't spend another semester doing the same thing over and over again.

"What the hell do I even do? Masturbation? Penetrative sex? God, I should've chosen a different topic if it was going to make me lay in bed all day and watch porn for reference!"

I turned onto my side and let out a heavy sigh, completely giving up. If only there were some way to put an end to this frustrating drought.

My thoughts came to an abrupt halt.

Maybe I could find a man--someone willing to help me experience all these things firsthand--

Wait a minute. Hold your horses!

It wasn't like I could just walk up to a random guy and ask him to give me a crash course in pleasure. And let's be real--my "first time" wasn't going to come knocking at my doorstep anytime soon. If I wanted answers, I'd have to figure things out myself.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang, breaking my chain of thoughts. I grabbed my sweater and hurried downstairs. Are my grandparents here finally?

My eyes almost popped out of their sockets when I beheld the person standing before me. That's definitely not Gramps.

"Good evening, ma'am," a deep, husky voice greeted. "I'm assuming you're Mr. and Mrs. Johnson's granddaughter. The old man asked me to check out his refrigerator and see if I could do anything about it." He gestured toward the house before his gaze went back to me.

Sweatshirt plus sweater. Socks. Unruly bob-cut hair.

I probably was the latest definition of terrible he had ever seen. Besides that, I tried to open my mouth to respond, but no words came out.

The man standing before me was drop-dead gorgeous--towering at 6 feet, broad-shouldered, the very definition of an Alpha Male. His dark brown eyes locked onto mine, intense and unwavering, as if he could see right through me.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry as I took in the sharp angles of his jaw and that easy flannel I could grip and rip anytime soon. It felt like heaven when I noticed the way his fitted shirt clung to his muscular arms. There was something rugged yet effortlessly confident about him--like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, not standing on my grandparents' dirty front porch. Believe me when I say that his entire package had totally made my mouth water in the literal sense.

Heat crept up my neck at my absurd thoughts and a strange, tingling sensation I hadn't experienced before coursed through my body.

"Yes," I finally managed to squeak. "Yes, I am the, uh, granddaughter."

This man was huge. He had to be at least a foot taller than me, and if I stood beside him, I was sure he'd easily hit the six-foot mark. Broad shoulders, strong arms--it was impossible not to notice just how well-built he was.

And if he was that big everywhere else...

I swallowed hard as heat rushed to my cheeks. My mind had no business wandering there, but it did anyway.

Get a grip, Willow. Seriously? Are you really that thirsty? I scolded myself.

I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of it. But now that I thought about it, psychology did say the body sometimes reacted before the brain could catch up.

If that was true... yeah, my body was definitely ahead of me on this one.

Clearing my throat, I forced myself to focus. "Hold on a sec. I'll confirm this with Gramps."

Stranger danger. It's the number one rule when you're home alone. But what about if Stranger Danger was a hottie? Does that spice things up a little bit?

I shut the door--maybe a little too quickly--before he could even respond. I had already violated that man in my mind far too much, and at this point, repentance felt like my only option.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my phone, ready to call my grandfather and double-check this whole situation. But before I could even dial, his name lit up my screen.

"Hey, Gramps," I answered, trying to sound normal about everything that ran through my mind a while ago. "Is there something wrong with the fridge?"

What I meant is, when did you have such a hot repairman at your beck and call?!

"That's exactly why I called!" he replied too cheerfully. "Colt will be there in a few, honey."

I stiffened.

So, his name was Colt...

"Well, he's already here, I think."

"Why do you sound so unsure?" Gramps asked while I heard Grandmama's suspicious sigh.

"Hand me the phone over, Elmer--ah, Willow, honey? Is that repairman there?"

"Yes, Grandmama. That's what I told--"

"But you sounded unsure, honey. Now, tell me what he looks like!"

Hot. A walking god. He's everything.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, he's--he's tall. Has blonde hair."

I heard my Grandmama squeal while Gramps groaned. "That's him! The handsome lad!"

"Okay, that's enough squealing for the day!" Gramps' voice came through the phone, cutting off Grandmama's excited chatter in the background. I could practically hear her pouting.

"She's worried the fridge won't stop making those weird robotic noises whenever the temperature drops," he explained. "Keeps saying something might blow up while we're fast asleep."

I rolled my eyes with a small smile. Classic Grandmama--always jumping to the worst-case scenario.

"All right, don't worry. I'll make sure to have it checked thoroughly by... Colt." His name felt strange on my tongue, stirring something I wasn't ready to acknowledge. I shook it off. "Anyway, have fun on your vacation, okay? Take care of yourselves. I miss you guys already."

"We miss you too, baby girl," Gramps said warmly before handing the phone back to Grandmama.

"Talk to you soon!" she added cheerfully.

I smiled to myself. Grandmama and Gramps were my reasons for pushing forward and for not giving up on pursuing a science degree. No matter how tough things got, I knew they were proud of me. And really, that was all that mattered.

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I was going to see that man again--Colt, was it?

But first, I needed to figure out exactly who he was.

I opened the door slightly. "Your name?"

The man's--I meant, Colt's gaze lingered on me for awhile before he answered, "Anderson. Colt Anderson, the local repairman downtown. Used to work five to seven shifts in a day, rotating from one house to another."

I smiled. "Impressive, then. Come on in."

I breathed a sigh of relief, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside me. So, he really *was* the Colt Gramps had mentioned. I tried to compose myself, not wanting to act ridiculous in front of him.

"I'm Willow, by the way," I said, stepping aside and opening the door wider. "The fridge is right this way."

Colt gave me a small nod, his lips tilting into a faint smile that made my breath hitch. He stepped inside, locking the door behind him. His dark eyes lingered on me for a second longer than necessary, sending a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed hard and ignored the feeling.

I led him to the kitchen and gestured toward the fridge. He didn't waste time, pulling it open and checking the temperature. I watched as his hands moved inside the freezer, his fingers gliding over the frosted edges. The way he handled everything so effortlessly made my thoughts veer into places they definitely shouldn't.

God, I needed to get a grip.

Still, I couldn't help but stare. His flannel shifted as he moved, hinting at the strong muscles beneath. The white shirt underneath clung to his form in all the right ways. The warmth pooling in my stomach crept lower, and I bit the inside of my cheek, willing my mind to behave.

This was just a simple fridge repair. Nothing more.

Yeah, right.

What the hell are you even thinking, Willow? I scolded myself. He's probably older than you are, and it isn't appropriate that you're imagining yourself pulling that golden hair of his down to taste his lips.

"Ma'am, could you please hold the flashlight for me?" His voice, low and deep, interrupted my thoughts.

"Oh, sorry. The light?" I repeated, panicking as I grabbed the flashlight, my fingers brushing his skin and sending sparks of electricity through my veins. I tried to keep it steady as he bent further into the depths of the freezer, showing me those round ass cheeks that were so firm and so tight against his trousers no one would dare resist it.

"Can you shine it closer?"

I nodded and stepped forward, bending over slightly to aim the light where he was working. The moment I leaned in, I realized how close I was--close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, close enough to catch the faint scent of soap and something distinctly...him.

I swallowed hard and took a step back, my face heating up, my pulse hammering. And worse--my body was reacting in ways I really didn't need it to.

Oh, God. This has to stop.

"You hear any noises here at night?" His voice pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. This time, he stood up straight, towering over me.

I blinked up at him, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. "Not really. To be fair, I'm usually busy in my room, so I never thought to check." I hesitated, then added, "Is there something wrong, Mr. Anderson?"

He blinked at me, looking mildly amused.

"Just call me Colt," he said, his tone casual, but there was something about the way he said it that sent a jolt through me.

I bit my lip. "Okay... Colt."

His gaze flickered over me for a brief second before he continued, "I'll need to have a look at the main breaker. I'm assuming you haven't checked it out?"

I flushed, suddenly feeling very unqualified to be left in charge of household maintenance. "I'm sorry," I admitted. "I had no clue that was supposed to be done, too."

He smirked, shaking his head slightly. "Don't worry, sweetheart. That's what I'm here for."

Oh.

Sweetheart?

I swallowed again, my pulse kicking up another notch.

This was definitely going to be a long night.

"That's okay," he nodded, making me squirm. For a split second, his eyes were on me, his gaze piercing my skin.

"Do you want to wait here, or would you like to see it with me?"

"I'll wait in my room," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

His face contorted in surprise, then he smiled. "That would work."

Disappointed that he didn't try to coax me into that dirty, cramped attic, I found myself rushing to the bottom of the stairs, unable to contain myself. My heart pounded in my chest, every nerve in my body buzzing with an energy I didn't quite understand.

Calm down, Willow. Like I said for the nth time, Get a grip.

I took a slow, steady breath, willing myself to relax. The last thing I needed was to let him see how much he was affecting me. I couldn't afford to show him how nervous he made me feel.

This man, though...I'd have to admit--he was perfect, if not in everyone's eyes, but for me. And yes, I could see that just by looking at him. He had the face, the body, and the right skills to make a girl's knees go weak.

But that wasn't all.

Something tells me he knows how to do his job properly. And the fact that I'm getting a bit wet just by watching him work...

"Oh, crap. One more thing," I heard Colt say. "Are the breakers down at the attic?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah?"

Colt gazed at me suspiciously. "Not sure?"

I looked away, embarrassed. I didn't own the house, so I had no clue where the breakers were.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the dusty box. My brain was clearly running wild at this point. But I couldn't deny the thought that had crept in--what if Colt was the answer to my research?

Sex. Orgasm. Love.

I swallowed hard, stealing a glance at him. He was focused, scanning the attic with ease, moving boxes aside like they weighed nothing. His flannel sleeves were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms, veins subtly lining the skin.

God help me, then.

Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus. "So, uh, what exactly am I looking for?" I asked, trying to sound normal.

Colt looked over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. "A breaker panel. Not buried treasure, Willow."

I rolled my eyes, thankful for the momentary distraction from my completely inappropriate thoughts. "Got it. No ancient relics just switches and wires."

"Exactly."

I turned back to the mess in front of me, determined to find the damn breaker and not get lost in fantasies about the man standing a few feet away.

"I found it!" Colt's deep, husky voice rang throughout the room, and my knees buckled. "Here." He pointed at the switch box that was attached to the wall.

"Great. The breakers," I finally said.

"Let me just reset it and see if it works," Colt muttered, flicking the switches and turning the knobs.

"How do you know which one to flip?"

Colt's eyes were on me for a second.

Colt ran a hand over the breaker panel, his fingers tracing the switches with ease. "A lot of years doing this kind of work taught me the difference," he said, his voice low and steady. "Sometimes, when things stop working, it's not about whether they're plugged in. It's about knowing which switch to flip... which button to press."

My breath hitched. Jesus.

He was standing so close that I could smell his cologne, something rich and masculine, mixed with the faint scent of sweat and wood. His body radiated heat, his broad chest and shoulders casting a shadow over me.

He glanced at me then, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable--except my brain definitely was reading into it. "You just have to find the right one," he murmured, flipping a switch with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers down my spine. "Apply just enough pressure... and suddenly, everything comes alive again."

My thighs clenched.

Did he--was he saying that on purpose?

Colt straightened, his gaze flicking over my face like he could hear my thoughts, and I swore his lips curved just slightly like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

I backed away. Ain't no way am I going to fall for that! Never.

But I was about to.

It was a goddamn miracle he wasn't close enough to see the blush creeping up my neck, burning my cheeks--a dead giveaway of my virgin self.

I forced myself to look away, to focus on anything other than the way his voice had dipped, the way his hands moved so confidently over the panel. But the damage was done. My mind was already spiraling into places it had no business going.

"This was not going to work," I muttered unintentionally.

Cole heard what I said, his back attention on me. "Not going to work? What do you mean by that?"

Damn it! This guy had supersonic hearing!

"Oh, I mean, the b--breaker!" I stammered. "It's not going to work or something. Oh god, I'm embarrassed. I need to go now!"

Colt's eyes widened as he attempted to reach out to me. "Wait, Willow, there's a box behind--"

It was too late. My foot caught on the edge of something, and before I could even process what was happening, I stumbled forward. A startled yelp escaped my lips as gravity betrayed me.

Colt moved fast--faster than I thought possible. His strong hand gripped mine just in time, yanking me toward him. But instead of steadying us, the momentum sent him tumbling backward. He let out a grunt as his back hit the floor, boxes crashing around us in a chaotic heap.

I barely noticed the mess. My hands were braced against his chest, my legs tangled with his, and worst of all--I was straddling him.

The world seemed to freeze.

Colt's face was mere inches from mine, his deep brown eyes locked onto me, filled with what looked to be concern. The warmth of his body seeped through my clothes, his chest rising and falling beneath my palms.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle.

I swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of everything--the way his hands had settled on my waist, the solidness of his frame beneath me, and the maddening scent of his cologne that was making me go nuts.

I should have answered. I should have moved.

But God help me, I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

"Willow? Are you hurt or something?"

"I'm fine--" I started to say, attempting to move, but the words died in my throat the moment I felt Colt's knee press against me.

The contact was subtle, just a graze against my soaked panties beneath my shorts, but it was enough to make my breath hitch.

Colt froze. His knee remained still, his hands gripping my waist as if he wasn't sure whether to pull me closer or push me away.

A slow, warm sensation pooled deep in my belly, unfamiliar yet intoxicating. My core clenched involuntarily at the new, overwhelming feeling.

I should have moved. I should have said something.

But I didn't.

"You're..." Colt remarked, his breath ragged, his voice laced with lust.

If I could die right now, I would accept my fate.

I looked at him sharply, our faces were close. Close enough for me to catch a glimpse of his stubble being illuminated by the only light we have--the flashlight next to him.

"Colt, this--I'm sorry, I--I just..." I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart slamming against my ribs.