Neckline Stubble Novels & Stories

Occasionally, he would swing towards the wall of windows behind him, staring out without really seeing the magnificent view of the dusky sky. He rubbed at his jaw, grimacing as his fingers encountered the rough stubble of less than a day’s growth of beard. No doubt, if he looked in a mirror, he would see the dark stubble on his chin - definitely needed to shave tonight before picking Nicky up for their dinner date or she would tease him endlessly about how much he resembled a Neanderthal.

he whispered, his breath fanning my face, "move my cigarette." I reached for his cigarette with shaking hands, removing it from his lips and I watched as he licked his bottom lip. They were naturally pink and I don't think I've ever seen his face from so close. I looked at his face, his trimmed stubble and his perfect pointy nose. He looked like a model with not a single blemish in sight.

With a strong jawline and a well-maintained stubble, he exuded a rugged charm that contrasted with his composed demeanor. Dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, the deep blue fabric hugged his athletic frame, subtly emphasizing his physique. The crisp white shirt beneath complemented his tanned complexion, while the loosened tie hinted at a carefree charm. There was an undeniable magnetism about Linc, an effortless charisma that commanded attention without him even trying. As Adrienne sized him up, annoyance and intrigue warred within her. His unwavering persistence only served to make him a more compelling figure in her already tumultuous evening.

I don’t think they know who is dancing with whom. ‘You’re a star. What shall I wear? Something nineteenth century, French, would be good.’ He produced a suit worthy of an aristocrat at midnight in the Pigalle. Then he reminded me. ‘You will have to do something about the facial hair.’ ‘Won’t a beard do?’ ‘Make-up stubble is better. Go on YouTube. There are several advice videos. Here is a mixture to make it feel slightly rough, as though you haven’t shaved for a few days.’

My gaze shifted to my side, and the words died in my throat. Stiles stepped out, steam following him into the room. He only had a towel wrapped low around his waist. His skin was damp, and droplets of water clung to the muscles of his chest. The new style— that fresh buzz cut— a striking pale blonde. But what caught me off guard was the ink. He didn't have any, according to what I last remembered. But now, a huge part of his broad chest was dedicated to tattoos, which made him look sharper, older, and dangerously handsome.

I bargained once more, uncertain if I should really go through with shaving his stubble. But he just pulled me closer, his hands fitting perfectly around my waist. "But I want to," he whispered, his breath sending shivers down my spine. "I want to make you comfortable." Wow, I was torn. I mean, I adore his rugged look with those sexy stubbles. But when we get close, those tiny prickles always get in the way, especially when we're lost in each other. So, Rue, being the sweetheart he is, decided to shave them off.

The lights stubble over his lip and along his jawline and chin makes him look so handsome. I slowly reach up and run my fingers along the stubble across his jawline and chin. I smile loving the feeling of it. I take in his features as I continue to lightly rake my fingers over his face. Lightly trailing My fingers from his forehead down. Feeling the little tingles dance under my fingertips as they touch his skin. I retract my fingers as he takes a breath in. I can't help but watch as his tongue darts out and licks his lips as he starts to wake.

I smile broadly. He sighs in relief "Thank God, I thought it was one of those make-up sessions you women have all the time," he clears his throat noisily. I swat his arm "Hey!" "Sorry," he shrugs and we continue walking. I glance sideways once in a while. He looks really neat, his hair is unkempt but it looks sexy that way if you ask me. He is in black ripped jeans and a black hoodie with black sneakers. His jaw line is well set and I love the stubble on his face.

Nick uses another towel to dry off his hair. I take that moment to look at him. His skin holds a slight tan all year round, and it's obvious he's worked hard on his body. It's cut in places I didn't even know it could be cut, the vee leading down behind the towel is enticing enough it makes me want to follow the path with my tongue. He's got his signature scruffy – not quite a beard, but not clean-shaven face. His biceps and forearms ripple as he vigorously works the towel through his dark locks.

He still didn't bother to glance at me at all. His distraction meant I had a moment to study him from the door, to ogle him without being noticed. He was perfectly groomed - not a hair out of place, not a speck of lint on his suit, not even the whisper of stubble on his clean-shaven cheeks. The last part made it all the easier to notice the strong cut of his jaw, as well as the slight indentation on his chin - which wasn't quite a dimple, and was a little off center, but somehow all the sexier for it - and I found myself suppressing a sigh. Shame I was about to get sacked. I wouldn't have minded having a little longer to stare at this guy, heartless bastard though he was.