Street Where You Live
For years her home consisted of a big duffle back, much too large for a girl her size to manage without her superior strength. In it she carried clothes, a blanket, a couple of books, and nothing else. There was little point in carrying anything else. Possessions only attracted attention.
When she moved into the cabin with Jacob, she brought with her only that duffle. She’d added one thing to it-a vase she purchased for her tiny room in Boston. Tucked tightly in among the clothes for protection, the vase went straight into a cupboard when they arrived. There was no need for her puny trinket in the comfortable space.
Then she left him again, leaving the glass behind. When they were reunited, he packed even less than she did for their train ride across Europe. What did they really need when they were living in a space too small for him to even stand fully in his giant form? Looking at him shift and twist in the narrow bed, too tall even as a man to get truly comfortable, her heart caught with emotion.
Blond hair gotten a little shaggy, blue eyes narrowed with frustration, long fingers idly scratching his balls through thin cotton boxers, that man was her home. The walls could be a forest, the heavy wood of the cabin or the metal of a train car. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that he was in arm’s reach. Without realizing, she extended her arm, brushing back his hair with her fingertips. “Ye need a haircut, ye great, shaggy bully.”
She started laughing when he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the berth. She didn’t stop laughing until they’d exhausted themselves with loving an hour later.
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When she moved into the cabin with Jacob, she brought with her only that duffle. She’d added one thing to it-a vase she purchased for her tiny room in Boston. Tucked tightly in among the clothes for protection, the vase went straight into a cupboard when they arrived. There was no need for her puny trinket in the comfortable space.
Then she left him again, leaving the glass behind. When they were reunited, he packed even less than she did for their train ride across Europe. What did they really need when they were living in a space too small for him to even stand fully in his giant form? Looking at him shift and twist in the narrow bed, too tall even as a man to get truly comfortable, her heart caught with emotion.
Blond hair gotten a little shaggy, blue eyes narrowed with frustration, long fingers idly scratching his balls through thin cotton boxers, that man was her home. The walls could be a forest, the heavy wood of the cabin or the metal of a train car. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that he was in arm’s reach. Without realizing, she extended her arm, brushing back his hair with her fingertips. “Ye need a haircut, ye great, shaggy bully.”
She started laughing when he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the berth. She didn’t stop laughing until they’d exhausted themselves with loving an hour later.
292