Shana
“M-my type?” I repeat Vincent’s words in a stammer, and he gives me this sexy smile that makes me more nervous. He looks utterly breathtaking and mischievous. Almost boyish if it hadn’t been for his impressive muscles.
“Yes, Shana, I would like to know what your type is,” he lays back into the jacuzzi, using his powerful arms to support himself on either side of the tub.
Since I don’t want to be caught checking out his hardened n*****s, my eyes land on the water. My stomach is churning with conflicting emotions. The truth is that I like the way Vincent looks a lot. He is definitely my type, but I’m ashamed of admitting that because...well... I’m not as fit, and I always think fit people are for other fit people, if you get what I’m saying? I feel as if I don’t deserve to be with h
