47

I used to be one of the "they" Jethro and Simone—the closest people to me—talked about. Hell, I was at the top of the list. But now, every fiber of my being rebels against that thought. My pulse steadies slightly when I hear the sound of the shower running. The fact that my ears were ringing so loudly I missed it should set off alarms, but I don’t care. I need to see him—to confirm that the little menace is breathing and intact. That he’s not the disfigured version from my nightmare. I step into the bathroom and stop dead. Gareth stands behind the glass door, and I have a perfect side view of his lethal body. The sound of water hitting the tiles fills the room as steam swirls in the air, curling around the edges of his glistening chest. Rivulets of water trace the lines of his muscles, accentuating skin I’ve started to memorize. His body looks to be carved from marble, the curve of his spine the most perfect fucking thing I’ve ever seen. My cock throbs at the sight of the purple and re