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I already knew he had a nice body. I remembered his chest from that day. Or at least I thought I had.
Apparently not, because Holy Mary, Mother of God, up close, he was something else.
His chest was bare and his pectorals were toned, his stomach ripped. I mean, he was seriously ripped. Not like the six-pack my brother sported or any of the lads I’d seen swapping jerseys after Joey’s matches. His entire body was a solid mass of hard-core, chiseled muscle.
I held my breath as I allowed my eyes to wander over him, absorbing the sight of rippled abs, sun-kissed golden skin, the dark trail of hair under his navel, and that amazing way he smelled. Like soap and grass and Johnny.
It wasn’t fair to give this much beauty to one person. They could have spread it out across the entire school and he’d still be perfect.
“What happened here?” Johnny asked then, distracting me from my ogling as he stalked over to where I was standing and stroked his thumb across my cheek.
Confused and frazzled, I let out a shaky breath and looked up at him. “Huh?”
“You have a red mark,” Johnny mumbled, frowning down at me. “I didn’t notice it earlier.”
My brows rose up. “I do?”
He nodded, blue eyes locked on mine. “Yes, Shannon, you do.”
Slipping around him, I padded into the bathroom to check in the mirror. Sure enough, my right cheek was red and blotchy while the rest of me was milk-bottle pale.
That would be my father’s backhand, I thought to myself.
“Well?” Johnny asked, leaning in the doorway.
I leaned forward, stretching over the sink to get a better look in the mirror.
Johnny walked over to where I was standing. And then he proceeded to hover behind me, his bare chest rubbing against my back, as he stared at my reflection in the mirror, face set in a deep frown.
I didn’t think he realized he was doing it—brushing his body against mine.
His focus had moved from my cheek to my neck. His expression was dark, face turning a dark shade of purple.
“What the fuck is this?” he hissed.
I followed his gaze to the faint purplish fingerprints lining my neck.
Awareness dawned on me.
My dad.
Last night.
Oh god.
“I don’t know,” I replied, feigning confusion, deciding it was safer to stick to the original story.
If I backpedaled now, Johnny would smell a rat.
“You don’t know?” he asked quietly, eyes locked on mine in the mirror.
Shaking my head, I let my shoulders fall. “No idea.”
“Is someone hurting you, Shannon?” he asked in a deathly quiet voice.
“No one is hurting me, Johnny,” I whispered, eyes glued to his in the mirror.
My heart was racing so hard I feared it might burst. There was a terrible concoction of fear, uncertainty, and lust all rolled into one complicated ball of emotions in the pit of my stomach.
