The Nobleman With His Hand On His Chest Novels & Stories

I tried to order in my regular low tone. He placed his hands on the fold-up armrest provided for the chair. Seriously! He actually expected me to unbutton his shirt. But I am not going to do that. I wore my gloves and took the scissors, ready to dress the wound. He smirked as if in an appreciation and a warning and took his hands off the armrests. I know he is removing his buttons but I didn't dare to look at his body. I looked into his beautiful green eyes and they held my gaze. As his hands reached his chest, a gold skin made an appearance, unlike the pale skin most men have.

His hand went to her neck, caressing it too then it went up to her lips "Rune." Her breaths was becoming unstable and her heart beats against against its ribs, he took her hand and placed it on his chest. Her hand went to the fabric that had his robe, she losen it, it fell to the floor showcasing his broad, muscular chest which seems to sap her strength. "So strong." She muttered caressing it, somewhere beneath his lions was reacting excitedly to her touches. He lowered his head more, the lips neared and then a knock sounded bringing them back to reality.

His voice carried easily across the room. The hostess smiled knowingly before pointing in my direction. His gaze followed for a second; neither of us moved. He wasn’t breathtaking in the polished, magazine-cover way Henry always tried to be. There was something better, something real about him. His clothes were clean, but not perfect. A faint smudge of oil marked the cuff of one sleeve, and despite clearly scrubbing his hands, there was still the slightest trace of grease near one fingernail. I almost smiled. He really had come straight from the mechanic’s shop.

Or did she even remember that her daughter was waiting for her reply for half an hour already. Given that, I was about to call her again, when a guy in his early 30s popped up in front of me. My heart jumped with shock. What the hell did this man come from? “Hello po, ikaw po ba si Aria?” he asked. Oh, he must be the butler. Speaking of his suit and posture, not to judge, he looks like a driver, I guess? But instead of answering, I didn't. I don't even know what he said.

he said, putting his hand on his chest, "and repeat the first one" Arianna looked alarmed, "what?" he wanted her to....touch him? This man was something else, "No—" "Then I can't help you" he sighed dramatically. Arianna bit her lips, wondering what next to do. Then she stepped forward and place her palm over his left chest, feeling the coldness emanating from his body, she tried not to look at the grey tint of his hard chest, "I—Princess Arianna, your master has given her word to let you help her in your own way..." Suddenly she felt a slight jolt and pulled her hand away.

He approached Caelum slowly, taking his time. "This one," the noble murmured. "Strong veins. Fresh." A clawed hand reached for his jaw. Caelum jerked back. "Don't touch me." Silence fell over the chamber. Whispers spread through the masked crowd. Humans didn't refuse. Humans didn't dare. The noble's expression darkened behind his mask. He hissed and slapped Caelum across the face, the sound echoing in the quiet. Caelum's head snapped sideways, but he straightened immediately, green eyes burning. He wouldn't kneel. Wouldn't break.

As I exhaled, my hand rested lightly on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers. Until now, I had never been allowed to touch a man, to explore the contours of his body. My fingers traced the light dusting of hair on Nicolas’s chest, marveling at how different it felt from anything I had imagined. In movies and magazines, I’d only ever seen men with smooth, polished chests. Nicolas was nothing like that. He was raw, strong, undeniably masculine. The slight texture of his chest hair under my fingertips fascinated me, grounding me in this moment.

It was warm enough in the season that the fireplace was devoid of a fire, and looked spotless and well kept. From a table in the center of the room sat a well dressed man, he had bright red hair and a face full of freckles and the air of someone who believed they were the most special thing to happen to Korone. From his time at The Academy Boro had come to be very familiar with these types of nobles. Stuck up, and self assured with zero actual reason for that attitude other then their birth status. So while he was not surprised by this young man's demeanor, he was surprised by the weapon slung across the back of his chair haphazardly. It was a long, thin blade, a rapier, with an intricate fl

His old eyes glinted further after seeing the mysterious man holding Lili’s hands. “Hoho, I think it’s not me who should be ashamed.” The old noble magus giggled. He caressed his white beard, shaking his head as he stared straight at the mysterious man. “Hey, young lad, you’re in my house. Oh, let me recount it fully for you lest you feel confused. First, I haven’t invited you here. Second, you barged inside without my permission. Third, you’re holding the hand of the young lass over there without my consent. And fourth, you’re pointing your sword at the elderly with blatant disrespect, unbefitting of a noble."

"Good, good. Pardon me then." He left the study, but the Earl sat quietly for a while. With a pensive look, he lifted his hand and felt for his chest. Through a thin layer of white fabric, he could feel his heart beat steadily and remembered the touch of a much smaller hand on his bare skin. He wondered if it was normal for the warmth to linger. How astonishing. ----