Counterfeit Love

"Aftershocks," Finch explained, hands roaming lazily through my hair, down my back, across my hips. "You alright?" he added after a couple moments of me trying to slow my breathing, my pounding heart.

"No," I said, feeling his body stiffen for a second before I pulled backward, smile beaming. "No, alright is not the right word," I admitted. "I don't even know the right word," I added.

"And you know a fuckuva lot of words," he teased, reaching to tug on my hair playfully. "Alright," he said, patting my butt. "Hop up. I dunno about you, but I am starving."

I was sure I'd never been more ravenous than I was right then. So I hopped up. And while he went into the bathroom for a moment, I forced my lazy limbs to move, grabbed some panties and a t-shirt, and wriggled into them.

"No, no, don't get up!" he said, voice dry, holding up a hand to halt me despite the fact that I was making absolutely no attempt to get off the bed. I wasn't sure my body would comply if I tried again. "Alright. I smell Chinese. And sauce, so that's got to be some kind of Italian. What is that other smell?" he asked, taking a long sniff as he gathered the bags.

"Subs. Roast beef and turkey and then some normal Italian regular."

"You got it all covered."

"I remember being hungry," I told him, watching as he cleared the nightstand to start piling food on it. "I saw the slop on the stairs," I added, stomach turning because it reminded me a lot of something I'd been forced to eat many years ago.

"Luckily, I wasn't hungry for that long. But I think we are going to plow through this anyway. I have a feeling I am going to need my strength," he added, shooting me a devilish smirk.

I had a similar feeling.

Because if that was what sex was meant to feel like, well, I wasn't sure how people got anything done. We'd just finished, and I could already feel the stirrings in my core for more.

"So," I said after we'd both polished off about half of everything. "What now?"

"As in, do we maybe get soapy in the shower now? Or what do we do with the next ten years now?" he asked.

"Either. Both. Maybe the space in between those two things."

"Way I see it, things go back to how they were. We are starting something. On top of that, we are working together. And maybe we do some road trips every once in a while."

"I meant, you know, more specifically. Or beyond a couple weeks in the future, I guess."

"Ah, my girl with her lists and plans," he said, taking a long sip of his sweet tea. "I think a lot of this comes down to you, doll," he decided.

"That's a cop-out answer," I shot back.

"I think it's honest. We need to wait and see how shit goes for you, angel."

"I think shit is going to go well," I told him, rolling my eyes. "My biggest worry was the sex. We seemed to hop over that obstacle pretty well. Everything else, we've sort of figured out too. We've spent a lot of time together. We know each other's quirks. I don't mind your laid-back approach to everything. You don't seem to mind my ruthless ambition and tendency to nitpick. I think we are heading somewhere good. And, I don't know, serious? If it's not too soon to say serious."

"I don't use that word much," he admitted. "But I feel safe saying it's not not serious. I was doing a lot of thinking in that basement."

"About what?" I asked, feeling both hope and uncertainty mingle in my belly.

"Well, a lot was about what we just did," he admitted, eyes dancing. "But a lot was other shit."

"What other shit?"

"Maybe finding a good money launderer," he told me.

"You want to wash some of the money."

"Time to get serious about my savings. I was thinking of getting a house somewhere between Hailstorm and the beach. Ever think of having a house?"

Honestly, not often. I guess I only ever saw one route for my life to take. And it was similar to the one my mother took when she was young. Work. Building something. And if you were able to do so, it made sense for a workaholic to sleep where they worked.

Now, though? With a whole new world of opportunities open to me? I was starting to wonder if I could have those things that made up a so-called normal life.

A home.

A man who loved me.

A family.

My heart constricted at those possibilities, not realizing how much I had been suppressing, how many things I could have that I always saw as unattainable.

"I have been thinking about a house more and more lately," I admitted, not telling him how lately.