Enrique Iglesias Shirtless นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I pulled off my shirt, putting it inside my tote bag as I entered inside. Just right at the entrance, I could not resist looking at myself on the mirror. "Good." I nodded, loving how my sleeveless tank top hugged my boobs and how it matched perfectly with my jean shorts. "Hey babe. I was about calling you." Ian said the moment I entered. I was thrown off balance again. This man wasn't wearing a shirt, only a pair of baggy shorts. I wasn't tripping when I had called him a Greek god. Look at those toned abs, those well structured muscles, those veins on his forearms...

They’re not in suits. Javier is in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, looking like he walked out of a normal life for once. Enzo has on shorts and a loose top, his usual edge still there but toned down just enough. And Nico— My God!

Damien was entering, shirtless, his chest rising and falling heavily from the marathon he had just run. He had cooked, and she had eaten. Now she was seeing him shirtless and couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders and toned abs. "Relax, Isla. I didn’t pull my shorts down," He teased, strolling to the fridge to help himself with a bottled water. Seeing he was in her face again, Isla turned rotated. "I won’t start with you until you’ve changed. I’m not interested in seeing anything you have to offer," she said, blocking her face from him.

He's sprawled on a bench, wearing nothing but black athletic shorts and a white tank top. At the sound of her name, the room seems to pivot. Elias turns. He's wearing a black sleeveless training shirt that clings to him like a second skin, mapping out the devastating architecture of his torso. His abdominal muscles are a tight, defined washboard, and his arms are corded with the kind of functional strength that only comes from years of violence on the ice. His light brown hair is a chaotic, fluffy mess over his forehead, giving him the deceptive look of a ruffled Samoyed—but his eyes are pure, predatory heat.

He was standing in front of the barbeque grill and cooking up some food that smelt heavenly. I couldn’t help but think how extremely good he looked standing there. He was wearing his signature black cap backwards and a fitted short sleeved t-shirt that nicely showed off his very toned chest and big muscled arms. “Don’t you look stunning” Elias said the moment he saw me and walked over to me, making my heart race against my chest, something only he had the power to do and no one else. I was wearing a nice off shoulder long dress that was fitted at the waist and had a sexy thigh high slit at the front, showing off a good amount of my legs.

Elias. Back to me. Shirtless. A simple black sports pants, which perfectly marries its hips. His skin shines, humid for effort. Each muscle in his back contracts under the charge he raises with almost feline ease. My gaze lingers on the line of his shoulder blades, on the drops of sweat that slide along his spine. My belly is tied, gently. I stay hidden for a few seconds, hypnotized.

If she could do what Eva wanted, then the video would be deleted, and all would be fine. "What's going on here?" Elena asked as she stared at the shirtless man. He was a tall and huge man and with his chest bare, Elena knew he had been working out, too much of it even. His arms were huge, and without touching them, Elena could see that there were strong ones that could get hold of anything at any time. The only clothing on his body was a short that hugged his strong thighs perfectly such that one could see all that they contained. "Eva? What the hell is going on here?" She queried Eva who just gave her a smile that suggested something weird.

I assured him. “I’m here at a souvenir shop. Will that be enough?” “Hmm, you have to tell me the color of your shirt so that he can recognize you right away,” I told him. “I am shirtless and just wearing a board short and a slipper. Black cap and black sunglass.” Did he have to include the fact that he was shirtless? I took a deep breath while trying not to imagine his overall appearance at the moment, but I could sense from his voice that he was handsome.

He wore nothing but a pair of dark shorts slung low on his waist, revealing a well-toned body marked with a beautiful tattoo. Isabella wandered around the kitchen, a playful contrast to his focus. She wore one of his oversized white polos, the fabric brushing against her thighs as she padded softly across the space, her bare legs catching the morning light. The sight of her, so at ease, made Ignazio glance over his shoulder with a smile that reached his dark eyes. “You’re going to distract me, Princess,” he said, his deep voice carrying an affectionate warning. Seeing her in his oversized polo was doing a lot to him than he could even talk about.

I look around to find the sickly hoarse goose that makes that awful sound! But instead of a honking bird, I only find a laughing Enrique at the end of the bed, holding some kind of plastic trumpet thingy. He puts it against his mouth and blows. BWA BWA BWWAA! I clamp my hands over my burning ears and shoot him a glare lethal enough to drop ten men on the spot. Unfortunately, the effect is somewhat wasted because my eyes can’t help … wandering. He’s sitting there in nothing but CK boxers … and damn — every muscle is carved in exactly the right place, not a flaw on that smooth ivory skin. It’s the kind of body that makes you believe in Greek gods — and explains exactly why the fashion world dr