Derek Hale Shirtless Novels & Stories

The silence that follows is heavier than any noise: it screams everything that words refuse. Alexandre lies on the tiled floor, his shirt open, a dark stain spreading under his neck. He does not move. His breath is weak, like a sheet barely lifted. Beside him, a tipped glass greens the light; a pool of liquid blends with something more terrible. Alexandre's face is pale, his features frozen in an expression that belongs only to those who have given so much that they seem to fade away.

“You made it.” For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Derek wasn’t wearing one of his expensive suits. There was no tie or jacket, and no buttons on his shirt or dress shoes on his feet. He was wearing a blue T-shirt and jeans. My brain immediately malfunctioned, and I tried to find the right sounds to greet him back, but the wrong words came out. “You’re wearing clothes.” The chirping of crickets was all that could be heard as we stood in silence before Derek lifted one eyebrow at me, his head tilting to the side.

"Cora, you are the chief healer of the whole Silver Fang Healing Center! Is there really any single thing your own claws cannot handle inside this den? And even if your paws couldn't fix it, there is still my own smart brain here as your senior! What exactly is this packless guy supposed to offer our family, coming inside our sacred pack keep and showing off to our faces?" "What is all this loud, annoying commotion inside my council hall?" Peter Hale demands angrily, his tall frame coming out from the back room. His sharp eyes land right on Derek's jacket, and a big smirk crosses his lips. "Well, aren't you that same young male from the Argent Silvermoon Pack tower the other day? Did your st

A few hours later . . . It was early evening when Derek had arrived at Hilltop House. He took his coat off as he and Chelsea walked into the living room. Chelsea had changed out of her outfit from earlier into a pair of blue jeans and a red cashmere sweater. She had on black socks – no shoes. Her blonde hair flowed around her. Derek had changed clothes from this morning, too. He had put on a pair of black jeans and a black and white polo shirt.

Olivia folded her arms loosely and leaned against the doorway for a moment, taking it all in with an amused smile. Derek lay stretched out across the makeshift bed, looking entirely pleased with himself. He was wearing nothing but a pair of dark boxer shorts now. One of the duvets covered him loosely, though it had slipped low enough to expose one long, muscled leg. His hair looked slightly messy, and his expression had taken on a relaxed, almost lazy quality. Very relaxed. Very… suspiciously relaxed. His eyes lifted to her the moment she appeared, and then they slowly traveled downward. Olivia watched the exact second his gaze landed on the shirt she’d borrowed from his wardrobe.

After five minutes, driver held the door for his boss with respect. Long legs with polished loffers made there way out and , long slender and wheat colored hands hold the door and slowly the Greek god made his appearance. It was none other than Damien. He was wearing black suit with collared shirt and red tie with a suit pin neatly hanged on his left side of suit. Not only journalists but heiress of other families also pulled out their phones to capture a slight glimpse of cold and alluring beauty.

he said, grabbing his knife and heading out. An hour later, Derek came back, shirtless, carrying a big bundle of wood on his shoulder and dragging another behind him. Without his shirt, his well - defined muscles were on full display. His chest and abs were clearly visible, and his two well - defined abdominal muscles extended down to his work pants. He was completely drenched, with water droplets streaming down from his hair. Such a sight was incredibly masculine. Even Tabitha, not usually one to be easily attracted, felt her heart race and her eyes heat up.

~Celina~ As the cheers grew louder, Derek stalked towards the centre of the fighting ring, like a predator on the prowl. Once he reached the middle, he stopped, his body still as his icy gaze scanned the arena. I gulped as my gaze trailed down his shirtless torso for the first time. His bare chest gleamed with sweat as he stood proudly under the scorching sun. My gaze darted to a drop of sweat as if transfixed, unable to take my eyes away even if I tried. With an agonising slowness, the drop slid down his body, trailing down his perfectly sculpted abs and disappearing down the v-line. Was it hot here or something?

He lowered his eyes, still trying to find a way to deceive her. Under Bertha's gaze, he slowly took off his silk shirt, revealing perfectly firm eight-pack abs, the bandage in the middle spoiling the beautiful feeling a bit but the skin was honey. His is strong and eye-catching. But right now Bertha was not in the mood to enjoy. After Derek undressed, she stood up and walked towards him. “Please turn around.” Derek obediently followed her instructions.

"Who the fuck are you anyway?" One of the nudees scrambled for a sheet, trying to cover herself. Another kept moaning like she was in her own world. The one he’d been on top of just blinked at me lazily, unfazed. I stayed where I was; unmoved and arms crossed. Realizing I wasn’t leaving, Derek rolled off the girl and marched toward me—completely naked. I squeezed my eyes shut so hard my eyelids shook. "If you would have the decency to cover yourself, I’d really appreciate it."