Enrique Iglesias Shirtless Novels & Stories

“I should go. If … please don’t tell anyone but Mia about what I said.” “We were just chatting. I have a lot to learn.” “Gracias, Izzy.” Walking toward the door, I gave Isla one last reassuring smile and opened the door. Emiliano was standing there. Gone was the spicy tobacco aroma and back was the clean, fresh scent. It was as if he’d recently stepped from the shower. His dark hair was damp and combed back. The usual beard growth running over his chiseled jaw was gone, leaving what I could only imagine would be smooth cheeks. I wanted to reach up and feel them for myself. In place of his blue jeans and black t-shirt, he was wearing a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

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.

Marissa Justine was about to drop me off when the sound of footsteps on the stairs made both of us look up. Justin emerged, shirtless, in nothing but a pair of khaki shorts that hung low on his hips, and I swear—my soul flatlined. His lean muscles flexed with each step like he was handcrafted in a lab and then cursed with that careless kind of beauty that didn’t even try. He glanced up and caught me staring, and I had to blink and look away before I publicly embarrassed myself.

Once I got his permission, I slip inside the room, but then almost turns back when I saw he was shirtless, with just a white towel covering his waist down. He has a freaking eight packs and narrow waist. Muscles budges across his screen, and one directly lay from his waist and disappear into the towel. He is such a feast to the eyes I almost forget what I was here for. I cover my eyes, embarrassed that I had stare for a good while. "You could have told me you're dressing." "I'm just shirtless. Not a big deal." "I'll wait for you to wear something." "Whatever makes you happy." In less than ten seconds, he told me to turn around as he is done putting on his shirt.

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.

But there he was. Enzo stood at the massive island in the center of the kitchen, back to me, lit only by the faint blue glow of the refrigerator light he had left open. He was Shirtless, always shirtless lately, like the cold meant nothing to him. Moonlight slanted through the tall windows and painted every ridge and valley of his body in silver. Broad shoulders that could carry the weight of an entire pack. Arms corded with muscle from years of training and battle. The deep V of his torso tapered into abs so sharply defined they looked carved from stone. Sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips, the drawstring loose, revealing the shadowed trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waist

No one will have ever thought to do this thing for me; tears start to build around my eyes. “Do you not like it?” Enrique asks me, but I wipe my eyes with my sleeves and say. “I love it, thank you.” A simple thank you does not amount to how much money he just spent, is this what he has been doing all morning? Something warm tugs in my chest, the firework returns, exploding around my whole system. “Let’s start the photo shoot,” Enrique says and I nod awkwardly. Goddess, why am I suddenly acting like that? In a swift, Enrique pulls the coat away from his shoulders and drops it on the rack, his dark shirt molds around his perfectly sculpted biceps, a gold chain dangling in his neck.

Christ, does this idiot only know how to answer questions with questions? “That wasn’t an answer,” I pointed out. He leaned back in his chair, and only then did I realize he was shirtless. He. Was. Shirtless. Why didn’t I notice that when my body touched his? Why didn’t I realize that when my back rested against his chest? I tried to look at his face, but I couldn’t help it; his chest was too distracting. He was toned, his muscles looked so manly and appealing that I wanted to lick them.

I walk out of bed and go straight to the kitchen to make some breakfast. I put my phone on to play music while I am making breakfast. I am dancing to Swalla by Jason Derulo ft. Nicki Minaj and Ty Dollar $ign. I turn around; I am startled by what I see in front of me. A shirtless Enzo is sitting on the stool in the kitchen drinking water like it’s a regular thing to be shirtless in the kitchen. For God’s sake, does this man not know he is sexy, and it’s not right to show off his sexy body when I can’t even allow myself to look for too long...‘It’s not fair’ I whine to myself.

“But don’t go labeling me a puck bunny just yet. I have standards.” “No? That’s a damn shame,” Santiago says, stopping just inches from the mesh. Isaac bites his lip, suppressing a laugh that would surely ego-stroke the Alpha standing before him. “I was actually hoping for a souvenir. A photo for the fans... or maybe just for my bedside table.” “I don’t do charity work,” Santiago retorts, though his eyes drop to Isaac’s snug, charcoal-grey Henley. “Not even for a loyal member of the pack?” Isaac hooks a thumb into the waistband of his dark jeans, tugging just enough to reveal the black elastic of his briefs. “I’m wearing the team colors underneath, if you need visual confirmation of my loyal