Really? Three years isn't long? Feels like forever when I'm trying not to think about you and that rail. And the front hallway.

And when we had to change in that tiny little bathroom on the Henderson job and I was turned away and pretending not to watch... and could see you in the reflection of the papertowel holder.

Bugger you? That was rather than goal. At least in my head. Your shirt kept riding up on one side when you bent over to look over the yard.

I kept wanting to bite that spot while jerking down your trousers.