Ian
Victor stares at me for so long I almost forget how to breathe. My focus is entirely on him - on how hot he looks with his crisp white shirt with its sleeves rolled up beneath to the elbows and unbuttoned at the neck, revealing glimpses of his tanned muscular flesh. That damn shirt is hugging him so tightly and perfectly, I suddenly can barely fight with the urge to run to him and rip it off his shoulders.
It’s the fact he seems like he barely can stand on his legs that stop me. The guy actually looks completely out of his mind and that glassy scared stare of his tells me he did something to mess up big time. He is swaying on his legs, looking almost relaxed at first sight, like he is high and happy. But then I dig deeper, my gaze completely focused on him, on studying his face. Pale
