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.

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Standing outside the executive suite on the 40th floor of Harrison Financial, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I'm wearing a dress that cost more than our mortgage payment — red silk, backless, with a slit up to my thigh. No bra. No panties. I'd made that decision in the car, sliding them off and stuffing them in my purse, the leather seat cool against my bare pussy. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Derek thinks I'm at a work event. He kissed me goodbye and told me to have fun.

she murmured. Chris looked at her sharply. “You can’t live your life in reverse.” She gave a humorless smile. “Watch me try.” Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Keys jingled. The door opened. Derek stepped inside, scarf loose around his neck, hair slightly windblown. He was talking before he saw them. “You won’t believe the traffic—” His eyes lifted. His face drained of color. “Mrs Hale?” The name rang out, loud, shocked, wrong.

“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.

he said, his voice low and rough with amusement. Derek looked just as good as he always did. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves buttoned neatly at the cuffs, paired with black tailored trousers that fit him perfectly. A black blazer completed the look, structured enough to look polished but casual enough that he didn’t appear overdressed. The only accessory he wore was his watch, the metal band glinting faintly under the hallway light. Simple. Effortlessly attractive. And dangerously confident. He leaned down, clearly intending to kiss her, but Olivia lifted a finger quickly, pressing it lightly against his lips just before they could meet hers.

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.

Sleek equipment, mirrors lining one wall, and— Oh. Oh wow. Derek was attacking a heavy bag with a rigor that was almost violent. Each punch landed with a thud. His whole body coiled and released with controlled precision. But it wasn’t the display of force that made my breath catch. It was the fact that he was shirtless. Completely shirtless.