River doesn't say anything. The whispered questions I asked just moments before seem irrelevant now that I have scanned every inch of scarred skin on him.
"When did you start?" I ask him and he reaches for my hand, gently pushing it away from prodding at the scars.
"A while after you left for college," he says on a sigh and I slowly sit back on bed, inviting him to sit next to me.
He eyes the spot for a moment before slowly sitting on it, eyes never once reaching mine.
"How did it start?" My voice is quiet and calm almost as if enticing him to share this with me.
When he begins to reach for the shirt to pull it back on, I gently tug at his toned bicep and his muscles flex under my touch making the hairs on my arms to rise.
I am such a horny mess it's sad.
