Ethan Klein Weight Loss Novels & Stories

He was dressed in black joggers and a comfortable white shirt. “For anything?” Ethan asked. “For anything,” Alex confirmed, his voice flat. Ethan scoffed. “Not even coffee? You turn into a complete menace without caffeine.” “I’m already a menace.” “Yeah, but at least with coffee, you’re a tolerable one.” Alex let out a faint chuckle but didn’t argue. Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “Skipping meals isn’t exactly helping your recovery, you know.” Alex shrugged. “Not exactly hurting it, either.”

She added. I picked up the bag and emptied the contents on the table. It's a cake and a bottle of milk with a short note in it. I took the note and unfolded it. “I don't like how skinny you are now. I like my woman chubby, so eat more and add weight.” I read the note out. Ethan suddenly took the note from me and then put it back inside the bag with the cake and milk. “Let go.” He stood and took the bag on the table.

What kind of extraordinary son did Ethan produce? ***

She moved with an effortless grace, her steps smooth and deliberate, making her presence hard to ignore. Her boyfriend a few years older than her, Ethan Walker, 28 years old, was a man with a strong and confident presence. Standing at 6 feet tall, his athletic build suggested an active lifestyle and a dedication to staying fit. His broad shoulders and well-defined arms added to his commanding appearance, while he had a lean and toned physique.

Alpha Ethan was a man in his late thirties, standing at about 5’7, and his appearance was unusual, yet impossible to ignore. Ethan was dressed in red leather pants that clung tightly to his legs, paired with a plain white T-shirt and a matching red leather jacket thrown over it. His ginger-colored hair was tied into a messy man bun at the back of his head, making him seem so odd and at the same time giving him a weird, careless but striking look. Also, a tattoo of a naked woman was on his neck, adding to the dangerous aura he carried.

Kira looked up. Adrian. He walked toward them slowly. Suit and tie. Hair combed back. Looking like the CEO he was. He’s still cute regardless. And beside him, holding his hand, was Ethan. Kira’s breath stopped. She didn’t believe her eyes for a moment. Ethan looked skinny. Too skinny. His face was thinner than she remembered. His clothes hung off him slightly. What had Adrian been feeding him? Or not feeding him? Kira felt tears gathered in her eyes.

Maybe later, she told herself. She was so well fed that she was scared that she might not be able to stand up if care wasn’t taken. She could feel herself heavy and knew that she would have to work off some calories not to let everything go to her ass and hips. The ice cream started to melt, but she wasn’t having any of it. “It was really nice meeting you both here,” Ethan said, checking his wristwatch. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes downtown so I really should get my ass up and start going now.” He said as he stood up and bend down to kiss Cara's cheek.

The radio was a low hum of static and a country song about a man losing everything, which felt a little too on the nose for our lives. "You’re thinking too loud again," Ethan said. He was leaning against the driver’s side door, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his knuckles stained with grease from the shift he’d just finished at the marina. At nineteen, Ethan Cole didn't have a billion-dollar empire or a suit tailored in London. He had a jawline that could cut glass, a pair of boots with holes in the soles, and a way of looking at me that made me feel like I was the only thing on earth that wasn't broken.

Joe asked with furrowed brows. Ethan replied, "If you don't believe me, you can check yourself at the hospital and see how your stomach is." Joe still looked hesitant. Ethan didn't really need validation, but he felt the need to explain, "You're cured, but you could relapse. Deal with the root of the problem if you really want to be free of the poison." Ethan immediately intended to leave, but Joe quickly said, "I ... okay, then how much do you want?"

Even if my feet are bare, and my skirts have risen to my thighs. I can smell him on the sheets, soft and masculine, and my cheeks flush. The room is dark, though a fire is crackling in the hearth, emitting a soft glow. When I glance at the narrow window, I notice the crescent moon outside. It is nighttime already. Beside the window, Ethan sifts through his wardrobe. He’s wearing his kilt, but his shirt now hangs over the arm of his chair. I bite my bottom lip. I saw him topless when he was in the fighting ring, and his hard muscle had seemed fearsome. Now, I find myself admiring his broad shoulders and the way that the muscles in his back shift as he pulls out a shirt.