Levi Miller Shirtless Novels & Stories

It turned into an awkward half-hug. Pulling back, my eyes immediately found Levi, and everything else faded away for a moment. God, he was sexy even without the usual sharp tailored fabrics that fit him like they were made for him—which they most likely were. My man wore a plain white T-shirt that had clearly seen better days, now adorned with streaks and splashes of paint that told the tale of his inexperience. The fabric clung to him, just enough to highlight the strength beneath it, and the sleeves slid slightly around his arms as he moved.

Levi. The glass dropped from my hand and landed softly on a nearby bench. I didn’t take my eyes off him as I stepped closer. “Levi?” I called gently. “Hey…what are you doing out here?” No answer. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. I stared him up to down, he was shirtless, dressed like he was about to get into bed. He had to be freezing, because as covered as I was, I could feel the chill air creeping into my bones.