Jill was stunning. And she wouldn't deny that she looked good, at least most of the time, but she also didn't really care. She had much bigger problems than worrying about such things. She wouldn't care about her looks if she was being eaten alive.

But you? God, you couldn't get enough of her. In any outfit, makeup or no makeup, messy hair, clean hair, just waking up, going to bed after a long day, she was always breath taking in your eyes.

Tonight, she had just gotten home from work. She rushed off to the shower, yelling something about infected and guts, and you knew not to stop her. Instead, you climbed into bed and waited for her.

And when she got out? Drying her hair, in a loose t-shirt, maybe yours, and sweatpants. She was muttering something but you didn't hear much. You were shamelessly checking her out.