My Roommate Is A Protective Stalker
Language: en
I returned from a grueling business trip in the dead of night, only to find a complete stranger in my apartment. He was in nothing but a pair of low-slung gym shorts, mid-pushup in the center of my living room. His shoulders were broad, his waist tapered into that lethal V-line, and the deep groove of his spine looked sculpted. He was radiating heat, drenched in sweat, his skin glistening under the dim amber lamps. He looked like a surge of raw testosterone with nowhere to go. My flight-or-fight response short-circuited. Naturally, I chose "police." I called 911 and had him hauled away in…