Rider Strong Shirtless Novels & Stories

Let me rephrase- than a shirtless Reid in grey sweats? His blue eyes flicker over my form, my bare legs on display beneath a skimpy pair of cotton sleep shorts. The thin little white tank I’m rocking with nothing under it probably doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and when Reid’s gaze lifts to collide with mine it’s filled with lustful approval.

Overlooking the elated atmosphere below with his cold dead eyes. His elbow rested on the railing as he leaned lower to stare blankly at the crowd. His toned chest and abs were visible as he stood without a shirt, not giving a fuc* to what the guests would say. Standing there just in his trousers, he looks down at the glass in his hands. To sip the liquid.

I had been giving him the silent treatment since our argument yesterday. Meanwhile, Ryder sat on a stool at the mini-bar not too far from me. He was shirtless, his heavily tattooed, corded muscles gleaming with a thin layer of sweat under the dim lighting. The man was deliberately flaunting his god-like physique, downing his bourbon while continuously shooting me dark, hungry glances. He thought that by going shirtless, he could break my defenses. Though honestly... yeah, it was very distracting. The night grew late. I continued to ignore him, letting the silence torture his ego. Ryder let out a frustrated sigh, slammed his glass down hard on the bar, and walked with heavy footsteps toward t

My heart skips. I hurry across the room and open the door, blinking in surprise, and maybe something else, when I see Jensen standing there. He’s shirtless, and the hallway light casts a warm glow across his bare chest, the lines of his muscles defined and strong. He’s wearing only a pair of loose pants that sit low on his hips, and for a second I forget to breathe.

My heart nearly lurched clean out of my chest. Javier was already there. He stood in the dark mouth of the kitchen doorway, perfectly still, watching me with an intensity that offered nothing away. And—far worse—he was shirtless. He wore only a pair of thin cotton sleep trousers, leaving his broad chest fully exposed: the wide, sculpted plane of it, the firm ridges of his abdomen, the clean lines of a body honed by discipline and kept in ruthless condition.