Falling Fast

Last night I was lying on the couch, when she came out to get some water before going to bed, she was wearing my T-shirt, the one I gave her the day she got here. I’m sure she had shorts on under it, but I couldn’t see them. All I could see was her tan legs and her thick thighs. Thighs I want to bury my face between.

“Fuck,” I growl, wrapping my hand around my cock when it throbs. Picturing her, her mouth, her eyes, her hair, the way she smells like vanilla and home, I stroke faster. She sets my blood on fire and makes me want more, more of whatever she will give me. “Gia,” I groan as I come. Opening my eyes, I blink against the water running down my face, knowing I can’t take much more of this.

I step out of the shower, turning off the tap, grab a towel, and wrap it around my waist. I go over to the railing that overlooks the living room and check to see if Gia’s gotten up yet. She hasn’t, and I know she hasn’t, because Loki is still lying in front of her bedroom door, where he’s been sleeping every night for the past week. My dog has fallen in love with her. It could be because I’ve seen her sneak him human food when she thinks I’m not looking, but I doubt that’s the reason. I doubt that’s the reason, because I would sleep outside her door if I could too. Actually, I’d prefer her sleeping upstairs with me in my bed. On that thought, I push back from the railing and head to the closet to get dressed.

Yesterday, the doctor admitted her grandmother into the nursing home, and today we’re meeting with the fire chief to see about her gaining access into the house. He called two days after the fire and told Gia they were still looking into the source of the fire and that his investigators would need more time. Yesterday, he called and asked if Gia could meet him at the house, and since I have the day off, I told her I would go along with her.

Pulling on my jeans, I grab a thermal from the basket of clean laundry in the corner of the closet—clean laundry Gia washed and folded when I was working late one night. She’s always doing stuff like that, cleaning, doing laundry, and cooking, no matter how many times I tell her she doesn’t need to. Once I’m dressed, I head downstairs to the living room. Loki looks up when he hears me, but he doesn’t move from his spot. He won’t get up until Gia opens her door, and then he’ll only get up to follow her all over the place.

“Loki, you big lug. One day, you’re going to kill me,” I hear Gia say, and turn just in time to watch her bend at the waist to pet Loki, who is now up on all fours with the side of his head pressed into her stomach.

“You should just let him sleep with you,” I tell her as she comes into the kitchen, with Loki following. Like I said, my dog loves her.

“I would, but the bed’s not exactly big,” she points out, grabbing a mug and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“True, but he could sleep on the floor. Just drag his bed in there.”

“You wouldn’t mind that?” she asks, and I frown, leaning back against the counter with my own cup.

“Why would I mind?”

“I don’t know; he’s your dog. He doesn’t sleep upstairs with you in your room?”

“He’s not in love with me, Dimples,” I insert, and her eyes drop to Loki, who’s sitting at her side and leaning into her.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll start doing that. I always feel bad when I go to bed and he gives me his sad puppy face as I shut the door,” she says, rubbing Loki’s head as she speaks.

“You sleep okay?” I question, taking a sip while studying her. She looks tired but still beautiful, with her hair tied back away from her clean face, a long-sleeved top, this one dark peach, that looks good against her complexion. The scooped neck shows off some cleavage, but just a hint. She also has on jeans, these black and tight.

“Yeah, like a baby, actually.” She leans back against the counter opposite me. “Are you sure you want to come with me today? I know that yesterday was a long day and—”

“I told you already I’m coming,” I cut her off. “And Tide is going to meet us there with his truck after they let us in, so we can load it up with anything you want to keep and put it in the garage.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you hungry?” she asks, pulling down a bowl that I know she will fill with Golden Grahams, something she eats all the time.