Montana Jordan Shirtless Novels & Stories

He wouldn't even bat an eyelash, like I'd disappear if he does that. "E...Eva?" My eyes raked up and down his body. He also got a customized outfit too. Though his was more masculine and didn't have the cartoonish icons. His black jean jacket had only his initial on the pocket. "Are you guys forgetting anything in my house?" Bailey pushed her head between the two of us, looking left and then right, at me. "Shit." Jordan muttered under his breath, licking his lips. He opened his hand and I placed mine on his, following him out.

asked Clarabelle. Jordan sat down, hugging his knees. "Yup. Morning. And we will prepare, an adventure, as I said.” "Where will we go? I don't have any change of clothes." Clarabelle looked at Jordan. "Why are you still asking about it? I've taken care of everything, Lala." Jordan got out of bed, he called the receptionist. He said a few things that made Clarabelle just shake her head. Jordan had ordered clothes for the mountain, complete. He would take Clarabelle to explore one of the natural attractions in the Blue Mountains. From clothing, camping equipment, and others. Clarabelle couldn't help but stare after knowing everything Jordan had arranged for their weekend.

Several other shifters have blankets as well, some of them choosing to sit closer to the water than others. It’s cold, yet most of the males are shirtless, their shifter heat keeping them warm despite the wintry temperatures. Jake , Kev , and Jordan are all just in jeans, but they added boots for this afternoon’s event. So I feel a bit overdressed in my sweater, jeans, and boots. However, feeling Alpha Dirk’s eyes on me again, I’m glad to have a fabric shield. Being naked doesn’t usually bother me. I grew up around nudity. But

After a while, he nodded to the other guy's name, I can't remember for the life of me. Walking through the door, I find Mason standing shirtless, wearing only gray sweatpants. His hair is slightly tousled like he's been running his hand through it. Those tone muscles are on full display. My eyes dipped to his six packs, down to his abdomen belt. The man is sexy, and the small trail of hair disappears into his sweatpants. It doesn't even help that I already know what he's packing under those pants. The silence between us was loud as we looked at each other, not breaking eye contact. I realized he was not going to speak or make a move, so I decided to go first.

He found himself wondering how some of them managed to keep their tops up with so much skin showing and so little cloth. He'd been discussing guitars with a few guys for some time when Mitchell realized that he hadn't seen Jordan for a while. Since the suite the party was in only had a few rooms, he knew she couldn't have gone too far. He excused himself from the guys and went in search of Jordan. What he found angered him more than he would ever admit. Jordan was dancing topless on a piano with a crowd of guys standing around cheering her on. She was laughing far too loudly and was unsteady on her feet. Mitchell muscled his way through the crowd of gawkers until he reached the piano.

I yelled, I turned to look at them as two of my guys were adding the ice and I noticed they were still in their clothes. "Why are they still in their clothes?" I yelled as I threw a hammer in no direction. "Why?" Lunging at Jordan. "Because there is a lady among them," he said fearfully. I looked at the creatures then back to Jordan, "and so? Do you want to take her place?" I asked him hoarsely. "No!" He cried out immediately. "Then do a good job and strip them naked into that bath," I ordered. There was a lot of mumbling and protesting or begging, I don't know. I don't care. My phone rang and I just had to pick because of the caller.

they are only going to a storage house. However, he takes a shower, puts on his black pants ripped at the knees, a tight, black t-shirt, and his white jordan. He ties his hair in a messy bun, with tousled bangs and looks around. He dressed like before. Before he stopped having parents, when he was another spoiled rich boy.

AMBERLY My knuckles throbbed. Jordan deflected my jab, stepping inside my guard. He swept his thick forearm against my chest, shoving me backward. My brand-new Nike training boots skidded across the loose dirt. I hit the forest floor hard, sending a cloud of dry pine needles into the freezing morning air. "You are telegraphing," Jordan stated. Standing ten feet away, he barely breathed heavy. He wore a simple black t-shirt, his massive shoulders relaxed, his stance balanced and grounded. He looked like a statue carved from granite.

"It’s a bit hot in here." As if on cue, Maddox takes off his shirt. He's pretty ripped; I can't deny that one. The cottage is poorly ventilated, with no fans or air conditioners. I fan my face with my hands. As if that's not enough, Morien groans, wiping sweat off his forehead and removing his shirt as well. All four men are shirtless, and it’s really, really hot.

We wake up each day to walk on a thin rope called Survival, hoping it wouldn't snap. I was done with my dumbbell reps, and doing quite a number of pushups. Now I'm standing close to the far wall, arms folded, back to the fence, far enough not to be involved in whatever nonsense the others were brewing—but close enough to keep an eye on my cellmate. Just like a well decorated elephant in a circus, Jordan has his chest bare. His tanned skin milked just enough sweat he could use to wash the dirt off his hands. He stood near the weights bench, shirt off, tattoos glistening with sweat. chest rising in a calm rhythm like he was meditating, not surrounded by criminals.