She put her hand on his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but the warmth of his muscular chest on her palm was exciting.
He didn't wear a coat today and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal brown muscular forearms.
His silver gaze was wary and his muscular frame only slightly smaller than Gabriel's.
His snow cloud-colored eyes were piercing, his muscular frame making her warm from the inside out.
The man was in his prime with silver hair and dark eyes, a handsome face, and a body as muscular as Talon's.
She clung to his muscular shoulders, returning his ardent embrace.
Brandon towered over her - the living room light forming a halo around his tall muscular frame.
His hands were clasped behind his back, his muscular chest and flat abs drawing her gaze.
He was built from the same mold—large and muscular, the kind of man more fitted to military special forces or UFC prizefighting than financial planning.
The silver-eyed half-demon was tall and muscular, the air around him rippling with power.
"I didn.t expect to see you here," Rhyn said, taking in Gabriel.s muscular form as he fought the sparring dummies behind the Sanctuary.
His thick arms were around her, his muscular chest at her back.
Brady stretched a muscular arm across the table beside him to tug the box out of his other uniform.
As he spoke, he peeled off his shirt to reveal a whip-like, muscular upper body coated by a thin layer of tan skin.
Response as she sagged against him or of the muscular form that lifted her from the floor and carried her away.
She stood over him, staring again at his muscular back.
Sometimes she puts her hand on a singer's throat to feel the muscular thrill and contraction, and from this she gets genuine pleasure.
In my account of Helen last year, I mentioned several instances where she seemed to have called into use an inexplicable mental faculty; but it now seems to me, after carefully considering the matter, that this power may be explained by her perfect familiarity with the muscular variations of those with whom she comes into contact, caused by their emotions.
Sonya was a slender little brunette with a tender look in her eyes which were veiled by long lashes, thick black plaits coiling twice round her head, and a tawny tint in her complexion and especially in the color of her slender but graceful and muscular arms and neck.
He looked like a professional wrestler with his muscular physique, tattoos, and long braid.
He leaned back in a chair across from her with muscular, feline grace, managing to appear both at ease and ready to pounce.
Muscular and dark-skinned, Tamer was hunched over the table in the center of the room, putting the final magic touches on a new compass.
Gazing at the muscular man who freely admitted to killing for a living, Deidre couldn't help thinking she never wanted to see something he couldn't handle.
The muscular frame, black gaze, dark clothes all looked the same.
He was muscular and tall, clothed in dark jeans, a snug grey T-shirt that hugged his biceps and stretched across his chest and back and then sagged at his slender torso and hips, and a round black medallion that fell from his T-shirt as he leaned over her.
In modest shorts, her legs were smooth – shapely, without the sharp angles of a muscular build.
Cocoa skin, soulful dark eyes, exotic features, and brilliant tattoos over his exposed, muscular arms.
Beautiful women that rivaled Claire and men so handsome, even age couldn't diminish their muscular bodies or riveting looks.
The death dealer stripped off his shirt and weapons to display a muscular body.
Death was a dark, towering, muscular figure in the living area of her apartment, clothed in black and wearing an expression that mirrored what she felt.
He wore black pants that hugged his lower body to reveal the lean hips and long, muscular legs.
In a blink, she was pinned on top of his warm body, his arms locked around her and his muscular legs wrapped around hers.
Her breath caught at the sight of his wide, muscular chest, and the pants that dropped dangerously low on his hips.
Elise peeled off her shirt to reveal a snug undershirt that outlined the shape of her muscular upper body.
She moved away from the gate, tearing her gaze from his lean muscular thighs.
Her eyes swept over his muscular form, from his shapely shoulders and wide back to the thick thighs outlined by the sweats.
One fair-haired young soldier of the third company, whom Prince Andrew knew and who had a strap round the calf of one leg, crossed himself, stepped back to get a good run, and plunged into the water; another, a dark noncommissioned officer who was always shaggy, stood up to his waist in the water joyfully wriggling his muscular figure and snorted with satisfaction as he poured the water over his head with hands blackened to the wrists.
Four soldiers were holding him, and a spectacled doctor was cutting into his muscular brown back.
He pulled out a small stack of clothing from the backpack and peeled off his shirt, displaying the lean, muscular body beneath.
Striking his horse with his long muscular legs as if it were to blame for everything, the colonel moved forward and ordered the second squadron, that in which Rostov was serving under Denisov, to return to the bridge.
It was not a stretch, not with his muscular body pressed against her and his rugged features so close.
Any other day, she'd have stared at his hard body and the way his jeans hugged his muscular thighs and the round globes of his backside, or the T-shirt that fit so well.