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I stared as he waded to shore, his body glistening as sunlight danced off the water still clinging to him. He was wearing some sort of wetsuit, only with shorts and half-sleeves, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking at the way it moulded itself to him. His skin was a patchwork of tattoos and scars, from the years he’d spent travelling, and every time I looked at them, I wanted to know more.
To know everything.
There was a gorgeous, casual smile lighting up his face as he pushed his sopping curls out of his eyes, and it made my stomach twist awkwardly. Which it shouldn’t have done. Owen was my employee, someone I paid to make ice cream, not to ogle like some creep. And this whole situation was not some studio porn set-up where I got to fuck my hot co-worker.
Fuck. No. Not hot. Definitely not hot.
Attractive, yes, but in a general, aesthetic, I-had-eyes way. Not hot. There was a distinct line between the two and I was not going to cross it. Not even in my own head.
Otherwise, working together would quickly become hell on Earth, and I was not prepared to start popping random stiffies in the middle of the kitchen because I couldn’t keep my eyes to myself.
#charlienovak #mmromance @theauthor.agency
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