Enrique Iglesias Shirtless Novels & Stories

His arms were thick and defined, hands pressing together in front of him. But his back…. Jesus. Eli’s stomach twisted. The man’s back was ridiculous. Broad and sculpted like a Michelangelo statue, with muscles shifting subtly every time he breathed. Thick strands of long, black hair rested on his spine, swaying gently with his inhales. And he was shirtless, of course, he was shirtless. ELi almost groaned out loud. Because of course, his “spiritual rehabilitator’ had to look like some damn erotic fantasy.

Trust me, I did not fuck up. "Wait, what? What about the male shoot?" "You're going to be the model. Your black slacks wore fine, just get a darker colored button up shirt and meet us up front." I walked away before he could object. Oh hot damn. That's all I could think when Jose came out from the dressing room. Part of me thought that he would freeze up, maybe be a little shy, but he walked out with his head held high. The shirt that I told him to wear was not buttoned up, instead he had it open, his chiseled body on display. His caramel skin was smooth, bare. The lines on his body were so defined, so firm, I could only imagine what it would feel like to rub my hands over his abs and up his

Maybe a job position that makes him have to be arrogant. I cradled myself, clutching the last remaining water bottle, all through Los Angeles. I glanced at Edmund, who was wearing his sunglasses. Could Edmund be like Justin Bieber, being chased by the paparazzi? But no one seemed to recognize him. He only wears black training pants, sunglasses, a black hat, a gray and casual blue t-shirt.

This man-made me different. "What are you doing?" Ishan asked. Startled me from my daydream. OMG! What sight is this? In my room? Ishan was only wrapped in a towel. Topless. His chest is quite broad. The muscles are slightly protruding. Seems to often do fitness. I could only turn my body back towards the window while Ishan was busy with his suitcase. "Oh, all the shirts that Teguh brought. Wait, where are the shorts? Oh yes, there is." He was talking to himself.

Her pulse quickened at the sight of him, and she struggled to compose herself. He was shirtless, his toned chest still glistening with droplets of water from his shower, and the towel wrapped around his waist hung low, teasingly revealing his muscular build. The sight of him standing so casually, completely unbothered, only made Isla’s heart race faster. She tried to take a breath to steady herself but found it hard to focus with Vincent standing so close. His smile, mischievous yet warm, made her feel exposed, like he could see right through her.

Elias’s cock twitched in his slacks. “Shirt,” he said. Caleb tugged the tee off in one motion. Bare torso now—lean muscle, faint tan lines from summer tank tops, small brown nipples already peaked. A light dusting of hair trailed from his navel down. Elias exhaled through his nose. “Jeans. Underwear too. Everything.”

I wasn’t trying to impress Enrique, but at least I wanted to look nice if I’d be with him—he literally looks good in everything… well except when his temper is quite fickle. I did not want to waste the time picking an outfit since I realized I’d probably be barely noticeable in anything, and he’d still look good in his cargo shorts and plain shirt. I ended up wearing a plain shirt and jeans along with a beige coat before coming out of my room. “Where are we going?” I asked while smoothening the surface of my coat in front of a mirror. I smiled and looked at Enrique who was just looking at me for a while. “Earth to Enrique?”

Folding my arms against my chest, I went inside. It was the day of the party and Enrique is in my room, begging me not t go or even talk to Leondre but I'm adamant to go, I turn my back to him and stare into the mirror, I was wearing a deep red dress that had an opening at the back and a plunging neckline, the dress is beautiful and I smile,

To lend credibility to my words, I wrapped both arms around the blonde, who hesitantly returned the gesture. I finally broke away from him. So I could scrutinize him, because he was dressed pretty summery. He was wearing black shorts that covered his knees completely and were quite loose fitting, along with a black T-shirt that said ENERGIE . Whatever that meant, I couldn't make sense of it. In any case, the outfit suited him perfectly. A pair of sunglasses was also hooked to his shirt.

THE NEXT DAY: Warm sunlight fell on Dorian Iglesias, who was out of prison after 2 years in the eyes of the public– behind he had been in and out many times. In a black loose shirt and cargo trousers. His body ripped, pumped from the workout session he had. His hair was messily scattered, accompanied by a lethal silver gaze that could pierce through one’s soul. He threw his bag inside the car, pushing his hair behind with a deep breath to inhale the fresh air.