I'm standing in front of the mirror, washing my face, and fuming. He actually said fucking! I don't care that his blue eyes are incredible. Or give me a mallet and I can play a tune on the muscles of his belly. The girth of his biceps is larger than my waist. And his face is more than pleasing. I may need to kill him just because he is too good and it's hard to tear my eyes away from him.

Fucking, really?!

I broke a chair over his head and I'm the one with the wound. ...