Page 7 of Clause & Effect
No man should look like this.
It should be illegal.
Seriously.
His ruggedly, handsome face, with a chiseled jaw that looks like it was sculpted by one of the masters is the stuff of wet dreams.
Vibrator stuff.
Fantasy worlds.
My God.
He’s even got a clean aristocratic looking short dirty blond beard I’d like to feel between my thighs—yes, I’m thinking that. My thoughts have already gone south in the best and worst of ways. It’s been a while.
I’m thinking all the dirty thoughts because I know this guy is hung and hot in every goddamn way. And he speaks to bears… no, he controls them! Manhandles them, God what would that feel like?
I mean real. Live. Bears! And guess what? They listen to him!
Sweet baby Jesus how can he be real?
I know I’m not the only effected one around because the girlfriends, especially overly eager Ellie are all staring at him like he’s a piece of A-5 Grade Wagyu beef they can’t wait to put their wealthy little mouths on.
Chomp. Chomp.
“Charlie.”
He says my name.
Let me rephrase that—he doesn’t just say it. He claims it. Like he’s said it a thousand years, a million times… like it’s second nature.
It’s his.
And yes, I want him to own it. My name. My body. My soul.
All of me.
Wait—
What the hell is wrong with me?
Does he have some sort of voodoo-magic-energy-pull thing going on?
He must.
I mean, he just stopped apolar beardead in its tracks.
I wonder if she was female.
Because damn, that would check out, wouldn’t it?
Without missing a beat, he leans over me, all hooded eyes and full lips and whispers my name again. “Charlie.”
I don’t want him to stop. Speaking. Ever.
Like, ever.
I lick my lower lip, nodding. “Yes.”
