Novel & Cerita Montana Jordan Shirtless

“You never had a man tell you you’re hot while you're half-naked in his robe?” Cordon tried to laugh but it came out tight. “Definitely not.” “I’ll take that as a first,” Jed said. “So, which line do you like from Legionwear?” “The Mayan one. Vibrant colors. I wear them when I train or pull long shifts.” Jed raised an eyebrow. “Bold choice for a straight guy.” Cordon chuckled. “I like comfort and good support. Doesn’t make me less straight.” “Didn’t say it did. But you looked good just holding those bríéfs.”

I tell him fully awake now, thinking the Goddess Dean put one of his shirts on me last night. Jordan grabs my hand and accepts my help, then pulls me towards the door. “You three stay away. We don’t need you freaking out. We’ll let you know if we need help.” Jordan tells the triplets as he pulls me out of the room and towards mine. I get dressed quickly and leave the room in a crop top and workout leggings. “Woah.” Jordan says when I leave my room, and I look up at his shocked eyes. My eyes scrunch, “What?” I ask him and he shrugs, “Just the most of your skin I’ve ever seen. Who would have thought you had such a nice body under all the jackets.” He tells me and I can already feel my cheeks g

I grind against him, and he moans. "Let me ask you this before I lose control. Would you and your bunnies be willing to join the misfits? We can each keep our own names and labels, but we'll all be together." I roll my hips and grind on him more. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that, too. So many of us have mated with the misfits that it makes sense. Now remove your pants so I can ride the bear." I take my shirt off, and Jordan stands, putting me on my feet. He has his clothes off and is sitting in the chair so fast that I barely see him move. I slide my pants off and climb back onto his lap. Yes, ladies, I finally get to climb the grizzly before I ride him. Who hasn't wanted to ride

MADISON'S POV* Watching that dashing person to come in, the maids immediately stood up and went to my side and bowed. Jordan smiled at them and turn towards me. He smiled at me proudly, as if he's bragging how fresh he looks right now. My left eyebrow raised as I looked at him from head to toe. He's wearing a white Vneck shirt and a black pants. His hair was fixed and he looks like he just shaved. "What brings Mr. Jordan 'Fresh' Drein here?"

I don’t either, but time is running short, and with another woman gone, our options are frighteningly thin. Somehow, someway, I have to separate Jordan from his all-access key card for our plan to work. No one is getting into the Pit without it. ~ I’ve offered myself up as the sacrificial sub, but it takes me an hour to spot Jordan in the public dungeons, now dressed in leather pants. Amid the crack of whips and the cries of pleasure and pain, he tries to give off the all-American-hero vibe with his winning smile. He’d spiced it up with a bit of badass, punctuated by the barbed-wire tattoo around one of his biceps and his gym-cut abs rippling between peeks of his black leather vest, without

Stripping out of the damp jeans, I grabbed a thick white towel from the armchair and wrapped it tightly around my chest. Stepping back, I looked at him. Standing entirely shirtless in the morning sunlight, the man looked like a literal war god. Thick, corded muscle wrapped around his torso. His skin smelled of pine and raw power. Deep inside my lower belly, a hot, heavy pulse flared.

He looked incredible in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his tattoos. “Alex! You came,” Jordan said, lighting up when he saw me. He pulled me into a quick hug that lingered a second too long. “No tie. Progress. What do you think of the show?” “It’s loud,” I said, looking around. “Your piece over there? The one with the city lights breaking apart? It’s powerful. Like the mural you’re doing for me.” Jordan grinned, handing me a glass of red wine. “Glad you like it. That one’s about breaking free. Kind of like what I keep telling you to do. Drink up. Relax. These people don’t bite… much.”

Instead, the second I stepped inside, that sharp citrus-and-musk cologne hit me straight in the chest. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Jordan leaned against the marble island in the open living room, shirtless, gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. The carved lines of his abs flexed as he straightened up, that black ink tattoo curling down his left side like it was daring me to trace it with my tongue. Twenty-seven. My stepbrother. The one person who could make me want to scream and come at the same time. He took a slow sip from his glass, dark eyes dragging down my body like he already owned it. My thin white tank top was already sticking to my skin from the heat, nipples hard

Jordan is getting enthusiastic over his silly little dog, and Cole's claws are digging into my arm, reminding me not to say anything to aggravate him. Cole's fingernails snag my arm, reminding me not to say anything to enrage Jordan or get him fired up about his pointless game so he can enrage me. Jordan and his pals could easily beat the crap out of me. I can't offend him in any way. I watch as Marnie takes off her bra, crosses the straps over her arms, and then throws it to Jordan. I want to pull that dress right off of her. Jordan looks at her bra and comments, "Good size.

Jordan stood in front of the gate, staring into it with his arms crossed. “How’s the pouting alpha?” he asked without looking up. “Don’t start. What are you doing down here?” I asked. “I wanted to see what I could get out of him,” he answered. “And?” “Nothing. He won’t even look at me,” he said. I turned to see the now-shifted man facing the brick wall. He wore a pair of pants, likely given to him. He had long white hair that reached his shoulders, pale skin, and was muscular for someone who appeared older.