Darry Curtis Physical Description Novels & Stories

would be jealous. My lovely Davy the sculptor. How I'd longed to be with him again! I still couldn’t figure out why I called him ‘little’! He was five eleven in his socks - when he wore them - and strong and fit, if a touch on the skinny side. His body was sleek and powerful ... as a man, he was more than substantial. Far more! I felt my own flesh twitch and moisten. Soon, McCarthy soon! Use a bit of that military training of yours, woman... Contain yourself!

But until they had Sapphire out of whatever nightmare she’d gotten herself into, he had to tread carefully. Unlike most of the Donovans, who were tall and blond, Curtis was a short, stocky guy with shoulder-length brown hair and a goatee. He had small, kinda beady brown eyes, and a nose that looked too long for his face. At first glance, he seemed harmless enough, until you got to know what a ruthless little bastard he was. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here,” Curtis said. “I lost one of my best men because of you, and had to fire another.” Razl snorted. “If they were your best, Donovan, then you need to do some new recruiting.”

They stood perfectly straight, ignoring the cold wind. The door of the airplane opened. A man stepped out. He was very tall. He wore a long, heavy wool coat that came down to his knees. His hair was black and combed back perfectly. His face looked like it was carved out of cold stone. He had sharp, dark eyes that did not show any emotion at all. This was Darius Manchester. He walked down the metal stairs of the airplane with slow, steady steps. He did not look at the rain. He did not look at the guards. He walked like he owned the ground beneath his feet.

Ciara embarrassed beautifully, and after the day we had survived, I deserved the joy of making her blush until she threatened to throw a pillow at me. Footsteps sounded from inside and my smile widened. I leaned slightly against the doorframe, preparing my best dramatic expression. The door swung open and my brain short-circuited almost immediately Standing there wasn’t my pregnant best friend in one of her cute nightgowns. It was Dax. Six feet plus of pure, half-naked Alpha male. Nothing on but a pair of tight black shorts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The fabric clung to powerful thighs and outlined a very obvious, very impressive bulge that made my eyebrows shoot straig