Andrew Tate Nude Novels & Stories

Dust still coated his long eyelashes as if he had traveled a long distance without stopping. And the beard he usually wore was gone. His jaw was sharp and baby smooth now. God. He looked… Good. My mind struggled to catch up as I looked down at the file in my hands. Patient: Mr. Andrew Tate. I frowned. Because the last time I checked—and it wasn’t like I had checked often or anything— Renzo’s surname was Dominico. So where the hell was Mr. Tate? And more importantly… Why the fuck was Renzo standing at my hospital door after eight years?

He hands me a container and two spoons, and he shares his with Andrew, leaving me to share with Tay. Great! I hand Tay a spoon, and we dig in. “Are you guys still coming to the exhibition tomorrow?” Andrew asks. I forgot about it. Andrew has his first exhibit tomorrow; he has been working hard on it for the past week. I can’t wait to see his art. “Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tay says with a bright smile on his face. “I will be there.” I tell Andrew and earn a smile back. “You know I will be there.” Nate says with his mouth full of Ice cream. We chuckle and share our heads.