"We were only supposed to wash up."
I felt Alexander's chest vibrate against my back as he chuckled. His arms tightened around my waist. "We did, though."
After drying up and changing into a clean set of clothes, we were relaxing under a tree on the shore of the river. I sat in between his legs and let myself rest against his bare chest, listening to the calming sounds of distant birds chirping, tree leaves rustling in the breeze and the trickling of the water. I then shifted in my seat so that I could face him a little.
I eyed his chest, my fingers grazing across the scars in his torso. They were mostly claw marks and scratches, except for the one right at the center—the one he got from the gunshot. I could feel his stare on me as I studied the memoirs of his past injuries. My hand sto
