Steven Seagal Shirtless Novels & Stories

Oh my god. He was at the far end of the gym, his back to me, standing in front of a weight rack. And he was absolutely, devastatingly shirtless—nothing but a pair of athletic shorts sitting low on his hips, showing off the sharp V of muscle that disappeared beneath the waistband. I'd known he was fit. I'd seen hints of it through his tailored shirts, in the way he moved, in the strength of his forearms. But this. This was something else entirely.

I do not know how long I played. But suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. A heavy, burning pressure prickled the air right behind me. My fingers faltered. The last chord died out. I turned my head. Killian was standing in the doorway. He was entirely shirtless. He wore only dark sweatpants that hung low on his hips. In the dim moonlight, he looked massive. Heavy slabs of thick muscle layered his chest and shoulders, pulling his skin taut. Violent silver scars wrapped around his ribs and torso. His chest was heaving slightly, his breathing harsh and heavy in the quiet room.

I pulled it out and saw a notification that Sebastian had posted on his story. Yep. I followed him on every social media account now just to make sure I didn't miss anything he posted. I opened the story and a it was a picture of himself at the gym, shirtless, with a pair of battle ropes in his hands. He only wore navy training shorts. His skin glistened with sweat, every muscle in his arms, shoulders, and chest tense from the workout. "Damn..." I muttered under my breath as my eyes shamelessly wandered over every inch of him.

She shook her head, and Sebastian stood up. “C’mon! It's going to be so much fun!” He began to unbutton his shirt, and her eyes widened. “What are you doing?” She asked in shock. He said no words and kept unbuttoning his shirt. After he was done, he removed his shirt, exposing his bare chest to Stephanie. She quickly threw her face to the side and closed her eyes.

"Now it's your turn. Take your shirt and jeans off. You can leave your underwear on, however." Sure thing," replied Steve as he looked at Gwen and saw her and her sisters smiling. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Next he turned his back to the Anderson family and began to lower his jeans. Unknown to anyone, Steve had hooked his thumbs into his underwear as well and lowered them with his jeans for a short distance. "Actually, I went commando today and don't have any underwear on. I hope that doesn't make any difference, Amber," stated Steve with a straight face as his butt slowly came into view.

That's disgusting! They all scatter off onto the field and start their drills. I can't help it when my eyes unconsciously move to a shirtless Sebastian. I watch with rapt attention the way his muscles flex when he runs, the sweat running down his stomach to his middle section is calling out to me to lick it. "Oh, my God!" I exclaim to myself "This is wrong, very wrong. I don't even like this kid!" I whisper to myself Then why are you turned on by the sight of him shirtless? My subconscious chides

I jolted awake and sat up on my bed, “Steve, what are you doing here?” “Open the door Olivia.” He hung up the phone then. I made my way down to the window after going back and forth with myself. I had on a tight tank top, with no bra, and loose shorts. I was aware that I was gifted in the breast department and but I didn't want to flaunt it at him. I opened the window and I saw Steve standing on the balcony. He only had sweatpants on and his whole upper body was exposed . His tattoos and abs were all in view.

My eyes opened all the way. He was wearing nothing but black boxers, his hair slightly damp, a small towel in one hand, and apparently five years had failed to teach the man that shirts were an invention also available for domestic use. I stared at his bare chest. “You don’t own pajamas?” “I do.” “Then?” “I don’t like them.” Right. I’d almost forgotten. Sebastian used to walk around shirtless everywhere the second the front door closed. In the bedroom, in the kitchen at midnight, on the couch while reading emails, even once on the balcony in December because apparently hypothermia also answered to the Romano Empire.

Si leaned over and whispered, "She works out every day. She could probably take you in two out of three falls." Max raised an eyebrow. But Si had already turned away from him, facing everyone seated there. "I don't have to tell the rest of you why we're here or what's going on, but before we go any further, let me introduce you to Max DiSalvo, Commander, United States Navy SEALs, Retired. Max." He turned. "Meet the teamKevin Markham, George Lorenzan and, yes, your newly minted wife, Regan Shaw."

Her eyes cut straight through the crowd, landing on the tall, striking figure standing in front of a treadmill. She froze for a second. Stephen was always dressed in sharp suits or structured jackets, the picture of a polished, no-nonsense professional. But today was different. Gone was the formal attire. Instead, he wore a fitted athletic shirt and training gear that left nothing to the imagination—his toned chest and sculpted abs were on full display, eight solid muscles carved to perfection. It was the perfect embodiment of that saying: lean in clothes, built underneath. He wasn’t overly bulky, either.