Half Naked Quotes

“She pushed the door open further, revealing herself to be clad in nothing but a Grecian-inspired arrangement of draped bed linens. The graceful angles of her bared shoulders and arms stood bright against the darkness. Her knot of steam-dampened hair could be so easily undone. A flick of his wrist would send it spilling free, flowing like molten gold between his fingers.
And those bed linens... a single tug, and they'd be a puddle on the floor.”
― Tessa Dare, The Wallflower Wager

“Jeb frowns. “You didn’t give Ivory the chance to explain, did you? You went flying all over the castle half-naked to find me without letting her finish.”
I clench my jaw.
He turns me to face him. His face flushes with color and he looks strong and healthy again. His frown turns into a smile, those dimples a vision too lovely for words. “Classic Al.” ”
― A.G. Howard, Ensnared

“You had the morning together. He painted your half-naked body, the lucky sod. Had that been my job, your pretty clothes would ne’er have been crafted.”
― A.G. Howard, Ensnared

“My chest heaves up and down as I spit the words out when I feel my pointer finger jab against something very hot and solid. And that's when I realize I'm poking Max's chest with my finger. God, wow... that's... that's some firm bare flesh right there.
I remember just how exquisite his skin felt under my touch the one time we made out. But touching him like this, when our emotions are running high and his skin is hot and wet, it's a completely different sensory experience.
A second later I remember that I'm only wearing a sports bra. My cleavage and my stomach are on full display, mere inches from Max's body.
And that's when I notice that glazed-over look in his eyes... and where exactly he's looking.
It's not at my face. It's at my chest. My boobs specifically.
I step back and cross my arms over my torso. My cheeks heat and I start to turn away instinctively. And then I see Max's hands fly to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers fumble and for a moment, I wonder what the hell he's so panicked about.
But then I see it. The bulge at the front of his jeans.
Max is turned on at the sight of me, sweaty and in a sports bra.
A whole new feeling consumes me. It feels a lot like satisfaction. Maybe a tad smug too.
I can't help it. Max Boyson is turned on by me again, but this time I barely even touched him.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“Evelinde's thoughts died as she saw that her still-damp chemise was transparent. She could clearly make out several dark patches through the clinging cloth. One was the large mottling bruise on her hip, the other another even bigger bruise on her ribs, but the others were not bruises at all. Her darker nipples were clearly displayed in the damp shift, and the dark gold at the apex of her thighs stood out against her pale skin.
A gasp of horror caught in her throat, but before Evelinde could pull away and cover herself, he'd taken hold of her arm.
"And here."
She peered distractedly down at the arm he'd turned slightly. She had seen all these bruises earlier, the result of her tumble in the river, not from falling from her horse as he supposed. She was more concerned with other issues at the moment, like her near nudity. When he leaned a little closer to see her upper arm better, Evelinde sucked in a startled gulp of air. His breath was blowing hot and sweet on her chilled nipple through the damp chemise. The effect was almost shocking.
Evelinde stood completely still, holding her breath as he examined her injury. He took an exceptionally long time doing so, much longer than he had with the other bruises. And the whole time he did, he was inhaling and exhaling, sending out warm puffs of air over the trembling nipple. Each time he did, an odd little tingle went through Evelinde. Then he suddenly raised a hand to run a finger lightly around the discoloration on her arm, and his wrist brushed against her nipple through the damp cloth.
Evelinde was sure it was accidental, and he did not even notice, but the effect it had on her was rather startling. She closed her eyes as an odd pleasure rolled through her body, finding herself suddenly torn between putting some space between them and staying put to enjoy more of the astonishing effect he had on her. When he finally released her arm and unclasped her legs, she opened her eyes to find him standing up. Before Evelinde could regain enough of her senses to go find her gown and draw it on to cover herself, he'd clasped her head in one hand and tilted her face up to his as she brushed his finger lightly in a circle along her left jaw.
"Ye've another here," he growled.
"Oh," Evelinde breathed, as his finger apparently followed the edge of the bruise past the corner of her lips. That, too, was from her fall in the river, but she couldn't seem to untangle her tongue enough to say so as his finger trailed over her skin.
"Ye've beautiful eyes, lass," he murmured, peering into those eyes now rather than at the injury he was tracing.
"So do you," Evelinde whispered before she could think better of it.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips right before his mouth covered hers.
Evelinde stiffened at the unexpected caress. His lips were soft yet firm, but kissing her was wholly inappropriate. She was about to say so when something prodded at her lips. Evelinde tried to pull back, but his hand was at the back of her head, preventing her retreat. Suddenly she found her mouth invaded by his tongue.
Her first instinct was to push him away, but then his tongue rasped along hers, and Evelinde stilled again. The caress was surprisingly pleasant. She found herself holding onto his arms rather than pushing him away, and her eyes closed as a little sigh slipped from her mouth to his.”
― Lynsay Sands, Devil of the Highlands