"Well if you going to hang around for it, make yourself useful, " Oliver said with a clipped tone.
Alice nodded her consent.
"Stand here and hand me my tools", he ordered her.
"Okay, but Oliver..." her voice was soft and gentle. It was the kind of tone he hated as it made him want to seal those soft lips with his own.
"I don't know anything about tools. How will I know which is which?"
"Fine, pay attention." He grumbled at her, then ran her through the names. Pointing them out.
"Now stand there and be quiet if you want to take these guns back to Fenrir."
She was too easy... Really!
To distract himself from having her so close, he threw himself into his work. Ten minutes later he finally managed to insert the little clip. Time to close up.
He held the little spring in place not daring to look away, then grumbled the tool he needed to Alice and held out his hand.
She didn't place it in his hand. Utterly useless, girls where.
So he tapped her urgently with the back of his hand to get her to move.
She gave a little gasp. The sound of it so foreign to him that he automatically looked up. The little spring shot out but he hardly noticed as he frowned at her. Puzzled.
There she was, face as red as a tomato, eyes on the floor, biting her bottom lip... and hoovering in mid air her hand holding exactly the tool he needed.
His frown deepened and he was about to make a snide comment when he noticed it. A smudge of grease - the type he used on Fenrir's guns - on her white blouse... right over her nipple.
Oliver was stunned. At a loss for words. Her gasp it was... It was... But then it had indeed sounded like she...
Dismissing his thoughts he half yanked the tool from her hand, only to regret being so rough straight away.
His voice was soft. So unlike him. Alice looked up, stunned. God she was beautiful. Oliver stood up, placed the tool on the table without taking his eyes of her and stepped closer.
He could feel his whole body tremble as he slowly brought his face to hers and gentle placed his lips on hers.