Enrique Iglesias Shirtless Mga Nobela at Kwento

“I can’t and will not abandon him, Dad.” I look at Mama and Dad, seeing the regret, guilt and sadness in their eyes, and I shake my head. “I am not blaming anyone, but all I want to say is I will not return until I have succeeded in doing what I came here-“ I stop when I hear footsteps, my heart thudding as I stare at the door that suddenly opens revealing a very sexy shirtless Enrique, he’s dripping wet making his pants stick to him, shaping his very obvious appendage and I quickly avert my gaze blushing profusely.

yeah. Ciara couldn’t take her eyes off him. “What?” Renzo asked when he noticed her gaze. He was just about to take a bite of the omelet. “Can you wear a shirt?” She helplessly answered. He’d always worn a shirt at home. He never went shirtless. “You already saw me naked, sweetheart.” He replied with a straight face, finally taking a bite from that omelet. “You’re getting me hot and bothered.” Ciara muttered as she stood up. She rummaged through his closet for a clean shirt.

Isabelle must be home, I can't wait to finally meet her face to face. “Hello,” I call out as I shuffle inside, dragging one bag and pushing the other inside with my foot. “Isabelle?” I muster but gasp out in shock standing in surprise. There’s a boy! No.. Not just a boy—a MAN, standing in the living room shirtless. His back is to me, and it's cut in a million different directions with thick muscles and deep grooves. He's wearing gray jogging pants, his ass is round, firm, and clenches tightly as he turns around.

He was shirtless and had his back turned, his boy was tanned, and boy was he ripped, his arms were huge, I know they were from the clothes he wore but seeing him bareback was a different story. “Taking your fill I see” shit, I've been caught staring.

I want to protest, but the conversation wouldn't stop if I did, so I disrobe and wear an ice shirt. God, his cologne is all over this shirt!

Drake said quietly. Miguel paused, then turned his head toward him with a sly look. Without a word, he peeled the shirt off again, standing there shirtless. The morning sun casting soft shadows over the lean lines of his torso. "Is it?" Miguel asked, casually tossing the shirt aside.

The man had a singlet on and a pair of joggers, which hung dangerously on his waist, revealing his deep V-line, which would make any lady crazy, thinking of running their hands through it. So this was what Elena had been enjoying by herself all this time. Wow. I couldn't help but gasp, my eyes roaming around his body.

India never cares! All of us turn to the source of knox. He is in a tight white shirt that clings to his bulging mucles. He is wearing a tight jeans that also clings to his legs and even though he is extremely angry right now. He still looks hot . I shake my head and try not pay attention to his body.

Oh, Isabella knew this was going to be bad, but she didn’t know just how bad. Archie is shirtless, unfortunately, and he’s wearing a pair of navy blue swim trunks. They’re fitted and they only come down to about mid-thigh. He has both arms raised, pulling the top of his hair into a half-ponytail, his biceps and shoulders flexing. His entire right arm is covered in tattoos, the artwork dense and dark and swirling all the way up to his shoulder.

I actually choked on my own breath. Gabriel was standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. He had ditched the fresh shirt he was wearing earlier. He was completely shirtless, wearing nothing but his low-slung linen lounge pants. The afternoon sun hit the planes of his chest and stomach, highlighting every hard-won muscle and the trail of damp hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. "G-Gabriel!" I squeaked, my eyes darting everywhere—the sky, the floor, the railing—anywhere but his bare torso. "What are you doing? Where is your shirt?"