8. Dalton

CHAPTER 8

I lie in bed listening to the sounds of the house. I feel as if I'm on an adrenaline rush even though I should be passed out asleep right now. I have to be up in four hours, but no matter how long I lie here, I can't sleep.

I toss and turn, over and over until I can't do it anymore. I sit up and move to the edge of the bed, resting my elbows on my knees. The moonlight is shining in the window, and I grab the framed picture off the bedside table.

The picture was taken on the ranch and the boys were still babies. It's my wife, Ethan, Evan, and me. I stare at the woman who was my best friend for ten years and who I miss every day. As I stare at her smiling face, I wait for the guilt to set in.

I haven't looked at another woman these last three years, and with just one glance at Gianna, I feel as if my whole life has turned upside down. I wasn't lying when I told her I was an ass to her because she's beautiful. It sounds stupid as shit now, but it's the truth. I was all in my head and didn't know how to deal with the instant attraction, so I thought the best defense was a good offense. But that tactic is not going to work. I can't be an ass to her. She's so fuckin' sweet… to me and to the boys, and instead of pushing her away, I want to get to know her better.

I look at the smiles on the boys' faces and then back to my wife. We were all happy then. It was right before she was diagnosed with breast cancer. At the time, we had no idea what was about to happen, but our lives turned to shit shortly after this picture was taken. For two years, she suffered… and we watched her suffer.

I set the frame down and then lie back down on the bed. I put my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling. Everything from this afternoon replays in my head. The first time I laid eyes on Gianna. Watching her dance in my living room. Her laughing and making s'mores with the boys. That fuckin' hug in the kitchen. Just thinking about the way Gia fit against my body makes me feel alive again.

My cock starts to thicken, my pulse picks up, and there's a flutter in my belly. I wrap my hand around my girth and stroke from root to tip. The groan escapes me, and I push my head back into the pillow. There's an internal debate going on in my head, but my arousal wins out, and I thrust into my hand. Over and over, I stroke myself, thinking of Gianna with her big innocent eyes, puffy lips, and curvy body. I don't stand a chance of stopping now. Precum coats my hand, and I grip myself tighter. With a guttural groan, I come with a force that shakes my whole body.

I lie here and try to catch my breath, knowing that this won't be enough. If anything, it makes me want Gianna even more, but I want the real thing, and I know that that's not going to happen. It can't.