Smothering

"Alright, where's your injured shoulder?"

The corner of Abihirt's lips twitched slightly, whether it was satisfaction or a habit Moreau had never known. She swallowed harshly at how her stepfather's arm reached out to simply grab the coat on the bed, then reached for something there. The situation spiraled out of control as the man undid one button after another on the white shirt, then stripped the work clothes off to clutch them in the palm of his hand.

Moreau is still unable to say anything as she watches Abihirt half-naked with muscles bulging in the abdomen, the biceps on the man's arms looking solid, even the butt that looks solid and sexy finally sticking to the edge of the bed. How horrible it would be if Moreau was lulled by the slim hips, especially at the vestiges of bluish veins creeping up, hiding in one place under the man's work pants. She had to remember who the man she was observing was.