“Mind if I join?” Wiping the fog off the glass, I turned to see that he was already shirtless, undoing his belt. Christ. The sound of his jangling buckle always sent the blood instantly rushing to my lips, cheeks and thighs. By the time he opened the shower door, my fingertips were already itching to touch him. But once he stood before me, I gave a short gasp. “Holy shit, Abram.” I ran my touch along his ribs, battered with deep, purple bruises. “Did Jesse do this?” Abram glanced down as if just noticing them. “Probably,” he replied. “Does it hurt?” I looked up anxiously, only to see that Abram was more than likely over this topic. His gaze was traveling over my wet skin now, following the glistening bubbles that trailed down from my shoulders to my chest. They outlined my shape as they slid around the teardrop curve of my breasts, eventually trickling down to my ribs. Ignoring my question, Abram nodded behind me, at the water beating down from the showerhead.
