Steve Harrington Shirtless Novels & Stories

Do not remember what his fingers looked like on that book tour panel when he sipped water and smirked like he knew you were staring— The silence stretched. “Cold?” he asked. I realized I was shivering. “No.” “Liar.” He grabbed a thick flannel from the closet and tossed it at me. It smelled like cedar and firewood. “Don’t make it weird,” he muttered. “You’ll freeze.” “I’d rather freeze than wear your scent like some literary groupie.” “Fine.” He tugged it back, then peeled off his shirt. My brain short-circuited. Because Jax Hart was cut like a sex scene that never made it past editorial. Broad shoulders. Sharp V-lines. Light trail of hair disappearing under jeans I now absolutely noticed.

and shows no sign of coming home. Bex finishes her set and squints at me. "You look terrible." "I look amazing. It's a medical fact." "You're wearing a shirt," she says suspiciously. "You never wear a shirt. Did something happen?" I'm wearing a shirt because Noah Hunter's scent is fused into my skin and I scrubbed until the water ran cold and I can still smell him, and a shirt is the closest thing I have to a strategy right now. "New policy," I say. "Professionalism."

He’d call me…gorgeous. “I want to put it on,” I murmured, my eyes finding his. “The condom. I want to put it on…for you,” Mr Stark stops breathing for a second before he nodded. He was quick to undo his belt, sliding the pants down. He took off the now buttonless shirt. I let out a shaky breath, watching his cock resting against his stomach. Fuck, I don’t think I can stop the shock every time I see him naked. He’s glorious, with all the tattoos. His upper body had more tattoos with only the left side of the leg tattooed up.

“But today, no timer. And I want you to take your shirt off.” My face went hot…first pale, then burning red. “Go to hell, you freak.” “The door’s right there,” he said softly. “Good luck with Hawkins on your own.” I hated him in that moment. Hated how my hands shook as I reached for the hem of my hoodie anyway. I pulled it over my head, my hair falling messy and wild from the static. Underneath was my simple black sports bra. My full C-cups felt heavy, exposed even before I went further. The Nike swoosh on it felt mocking. I was supposed to be the one in control.

Slowly, I turned around. Charlie stood a short distance away, completely shirtless, wearing only a pair of dark football shorts that hung low on his hips. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, as if he had just finished a long, hard run. The sweat trailed down the defined ridges of his abs and along the lines of his chest, catching the outdoor light in a way that made every muscle stand out more clearly. His blonde hair was messy and slightly damp, falling across his forehead in a careless, attractive way.

A ragged sound left me—almost like a laugh. “Why?” Zane raised a brow. “So they’re just going to make one shirt just because that’s the color I want?” I almost felt like calling Louis to explain this to them, so they could all see how ridiculous it sounded. “Yes,” the woman responded, “most of Mr. Harrington's clothes are custom-made.” Blinking, I turned to Zane, shooting him a sharp look. Zane stared back at me. Guess it was normal for him. I sighed. “I’ll take the grey.”

The bathroom door creaked open. It was Steve. He stepped in fully clothed. He was wearing jeans, a faded T-shirt, and his hair was still messy from sleep. His eyes were soft and apologetic, but there was a glint there too. Hunger. The same quiet hunger he’d had when we first started dating—simple, sweet, nothing like the feral edge Norman always carried. “Steve, I’m late,” I sighed, turning my face into the spray, trying to sound firm. He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he kicked off his shoes, peeled his shirt over his head, and stepped under the water behind me still in his jeans, like he couldn’t wait long enough to undress properly. The denim soaked through instantly, clinging to his

My arms were too full to steady myself. “Whoa, careful there.” Strong hands gripped my bare shoulders to steady me. I looked up and froze. Henry stood there, shirtless, his sculpted chest just inches away. A gothic-style angel tattoo marked his right shoulder, the kind you’d see in an old cemetery. It caught me off guard; he didn’t seem like the type to have ink. He always came across as too serious for that. A faint trail of light-colored hair ran across his chest and down toward his stomach. Well, damn. So that’s what he’d been hiding under those tailored blazers. My eyes traveled up to meet his, and I saw amusement flickering there. He’d noticed me checking him out.

Steven knew it. "Take it off! Take it off!" He began chanting, and soon all the men were chanting with him. This time when I went to step behind him, as I unbuttoned my blouse, He spun his chair around and moved it back to align with the center of the U shape that the couches made. Now there was no hiding from him. I revealed one shoulder while keeping my breast hidden and angled my back towards the guys, then I looked over my other shoulder and slowly pulled the fabric of my blouse down over that one too. I freed both arms and used them to cover my breasts, letting the blouse drop to the floor. When I turned around, I could've sworn I saw drool run down Steven's face. Dave and the other guy

Seeing Steve there was the last thing she expected. She could not help noticing how he seemed at home. When his team scored, he joined the rest of his teammates in one corner and did a celebratory dance. Besides the colour of his skin that was easy to pick up from a distance, Steve seemed to belong there. She could not help herself from looking at him. He was playing topless, exposing his masculine chest which looked shiny because of sweat. He had a simple short which she recognised. Her cousin, Jay must have lent it to him. Steve was hot for a white man, she thought, biting her lower lip.