Billy Hargrove Shirtless Novels & Stories

Then *he* walked in. Professor William Hargrove—tall, broad-shouldered, short dark-and-gray facial hairs that make his strong jawline look even more defined. His button-down stretched tight across his chest, sleeves rolled up, revealing strong, muscular forearms. A bit of a tattoo peeks under his rolled-up sleeve. My panties went damp in a heartbeat.

That was all he needed. He stripped his shirt off first, and my breath caught. Billy’s chest was broad, lined with muscle, dusted with dark hair that led down to a sculpted abdomen. A scar ran across one side of his rib cage...sharp, clean, old. I wanted to trace it with my tongue. Then he undressed me—slowly. One button at a time, his hands sure and deliberate, teasing each inch of skin he revealed. When he peeled the blouse off my shoulders, he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since I walked in.

Slowly, I turned around. Charlie stood a short distance away, completely shirtless, wearing only a pair of dark football shorts that hung low on his hips. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, as if he had just finished a long, hard run. The sweat trailed down the defined ridges of his abs and along the lines of his chest, catching the outdoor light in a way that made every muscle stand out more clearly. His blonde hair was messy and slightly damp, falling across his forehead in a careless, attractive way.

Why is he shirtless? >Shirtless Salvy He turned his head and smiled at me. “Sorry my angioletto, I did not have a shirt on my gym bag.” My heart and my ovary jumped. I have this strong urge to run my fingers to his chest and abs again. “D-did I say that out loud?” I cover my mouth with my hands. He nods and chuckles, he gets back to cooking and I shamelessly stare at his body. His back has several scars and some of it looked like they came from deep wounds. Is his life always in danger? He looks strong but what if someone tried to kill him again like last time.

Without looking up I could hear him unbuttoning his shirt. Terror blocked my ears. Was he going to ravish me right there? I wouldn't be able to save myself, weak like this. I couldn’t run. My breathing escalated. He was on his last button. Underneath his shirt, he had a grey vest. The white shirt slipped off his rigid body. His eyes were expressionless as the shirt came completely off his bicep.

It is a story that has not been easy to get through, but a million emotions have been conquering on this day. This day. The left-wing guest lineup was dominated by the RED-EYEZ and the northern wolf clan that looked like royalty. Notably, Glenn's body was covered by neat shirts and suits, with absolutely no there was no impression of a hooligan, even though his big muscles were poking out from under the case. Barlie was seen, and Thomas mingled with Haris and Shey. Shey looked elegant. She wore a cream-colored medium dress with a tiny flower clasp.

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.

And then he invaded her light. Alex fucking Hargrove. I recognized him immediately—couldn't miss that golden-boy aura if I tried. He was the kind of guy who made the world bend toward him without even asking: tousled blond hair that looked effortlessly windswept, even indoors; a jawline sharp enough to cut glass but softened by dimples that screamed trustworthiness; eyes the color of summer sky, warm and open, like he had nothing to hide because nothing bad had ever touched him. He wore a faded band tee under an unbuttoned flannel, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with the casual muscle of someone who played pickup soccer on weekends but called it "stress relief." Anno

I watched as he brought out more cans, and I brought out my phone. “Do you need a picture?” “I know what a parrot looks like, Leah. I can handle this.” I watched as he brought out a pencil. He dropped it on the tablet and took a step back. To my surprise, he began to undo his buttons. I watched as he slipped his shirt off. He was in a white vest. His muscles bulged, and I watched as his abs drew lines on his singlet. His head was bent down, and his untied hair covered his face. Oh. My. God.

he says and I nod. On the way to the warehouse, I strip off my shirt. It’s a nice one that I don’t want to get blood on. I wear my bullet proof over my bare chest loving the chill breeze on my skin. Scofield is silent, as always, before something goes down, just like the day we did things like this together. Garrett looks angry, his neck cracking and fingers popping as he prepares.