Red Sleeve の小説・ストーリー

It's a pleasant evening for both as one is admiring the beautiful sight which is available in front and the other one is enjoying the time of being admired. After a lot of denying and accepting games Ryan finally decided to give it a try and prepared himself to face whatever falls after this date. Somehow the conversation with Natasha helped him to figure out what actually he wanted to do rather than what he was denying to do. Ryan slipped into a crisp white shirt that clinged to his body like his second skin. Tucking the shirt inside black casual pants he left the upper two buttons of his shirt open letting his hairless smooth chest shine in reflection. Folding the sleeves till his forearms

Maybe he would even look better in them. Alex saw a sleeveless white shirt and a long pair of black jeans on his bed. He wasn’t sure he would like the shirt. Where were the sleeves? There were meant to be sleeves?! The sleeveless shirt said; Damn, that’s good. Maybe he could exchange with someone but the percent of that happening was zero. He was sure not talking to Miles, and Justin who was already admiring his red short-sleeved shirt and pair of deep blue jeans. That was not happening.

Paired with the strappy heels sitting on top the leather ottoman, I looked like she-wolf born and bred into high society. It was the scars that ruined the image, something they did without fail. The sleeves were nothing more than thin slivers of silk, the same shade of midnight as the rest of the dress, which hung down the tops of my arms. It left my entire chest exposed, along with the scar slashed across my throat.

She had a point there. The oranges tried to answer once again, but the greens got a steal and dropped a layup the other way. I stared at my step sister expectantly and she didn't disappoint. She took off her long sleeve shirt, revealing the bright, scarlet straps of what I assumed was another conservatively cut bra.

The sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms that were more defined than she remembered. Ava guessed she wasn't wrong after all.

She didn’t need to guess—it had to be him. When she opened the door, her guess was confirmed. Reagan stood there, dressed in a crisp black button-down shirt that fit just right across his chest and arms, paired with white tailored pants. The contrast made his presence even more striking. The shirt clung slightly to his frame, just enough to hint at the strong chest underneath. His sleeves only reached up to his forearms, revealing toned muscles that didn’t try too hard to impress—yet did anyway. For a second, Lara felt like someone that good-looking shouldn’t even be allowed in church.

Suddenly, the air is too thick as the sexual tension between us surrounds the air we breathe. I bring my eyes down his body, shamelessly checking him out. He’s dressed in a black dress shirt, with the two top buttons unbuttoned, giving a clear view of his pec tattoos. The sleeves are folded to his forearms, showing off his colorful full-sleeve tattoos that end on his wrist. His bottom half is covered in black slacks, with the dress shirt tucked in.

Either way, I didn’t want to try on any others. The details on it are exquisite. It has long sleeves with silk buttons from my elbow to my wrist. The neckline leaves a lot to the imagination. It cuts right under my collarbones in a straight line, but it fits so perfectly that the curves of my breasts is still visible through the ivory silk fabric.

"I'll be there soon." I was still mad at Ares. Did he really think having dinner with me would make everything better? He had refused to talk to me. I tried to make a small conversation and show him how offended I was, but he ignored everything I said. I smoothed my hand over the royal blue sleeveless knee-length dress I wore. It had thin spaghetti straps that crossed delicately over my back, revealing a hint of bare skin. The neckline was modest but flattering, with a gentle scoop that drew the eye upwards towards my face.

I pulled a gold arm band from the box, its inscription was delicate, and lovely, and the band itself hammered so thin, it was feather light. "Thank you," I breathed, "It's beautiful." My dress was long sleeve of snug velvet that stretched, but not enough to slip the band on under my sleeve, all the way to my bicep. So I slipped it on over my sleeve instead, using magic to ensure it wouldn't slip off as the evening progressed.