Cameron Monaghan Shirtless Novels & Stories

I was late most of the time. I picked the menu and studied it intently. Too intent than I’d like. It was probably because I couldn’t get the image of Cameron and how good he looked in those denim jeans and shirt out of my head. The simple T-shirt, which he had opted for, was glued to his body, outlining the broad expanse and finely sculpted muscles of his chest. I had seen him without a shirt before, and I knew how good his body looked. I was sweating off in my kitchen, looking like a slice of pizza that I could just devour.

I assured him. “I’m here at a souvenir shop. Will that be enough?” “Hmm, you have to tell me the color of your shirt so that he can recognize you right away,” I told him. “I am shirtless and just wearing a board short and a slipper. Black cap and black sunglass.” Did he have to include the fact that he was shirtless? I took a deep breath while trying not to imagine his overall appearance at the moment, but I could sense from his voice that he was handsome.