Shirtless Quotes

“I ain’t the only old woman looking. I’m just the only one honest enough to admit it. The others just hire the boy to cut their grass so they can sit at the window and drool.”
― Glines Abbi

“Do you want me to take one of those creepy, self-indulgent selfies of my stomach and send it to you?" Luc asked. "Then you can check me out whenever you want, even when I'm not around.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, The Darkest Star

“I almost didn't hear him over how shirtless he was.”
― Danielle Lori, The Sweetest Oblivion

“Check the top 1000 books on Amazon. Most of them have a shirtless guy on the cover, because they're smutty "romance novels" (read: porn for women) about a girl being swept off her feet by one (or more) billionaire alpha-males. There are literally tens of thousands of books out there about shirtless billionaire alpha-male vampires who can't wait to mate with you. Lucky you! And women eat that shit up! Men, not so much. Men prefer to watch actual porn.”
― Oliver Markus, Why Men And Women Can't Be Friends

“His jeans were zipped but unbuttoned, and they hung indecently low - like, so low, they had to be held up by alien superpowers. He had those muscles on either side of his hips, the kind that formed indents. I didn't even know what they were called, but boy, oh boy, did he ever have them. There was a faint dusting of hair that disappeared below the jeans.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, The Darkest Star

“I had a dream that Zac Effron showed up at my door shirtless with a bouquet of flowers..yep, I’m still waiting on that one to come true.”
― Starley Ard, Dreaming is for lovers

“Shirtless, they’d stretch out in the long grass and take the healing brunt of a noontime sun that gave no clue of the thunderheads it already, in secret, had begun to breed.”
― Paul Russell, The Coming Storm

“A lazy smile reached his lips. “The mere sight of me shirtless takes your mind there? Good to know. I’d rather a solid fuck than getting my kumbayas out.”
― Katherine McIntyre, Forged Alliances

“I half hoped he would be shirtless, but then wanted to smack myself at the ridiculous secret confession.”
― Alex Rosa, Tryst

“Isaiah opens the door to the bathroom, and steam pours out. He sports a pair of jeans and no shirt.
“Wear some clothes around my girl.”
Isaiah digs through his duffel bag. “Why? She already knows I’m the better-looking one. Echo chose you because you’ve got that smooth mouth.” ”
― Katie McGarry, Breaking the Rules

“I see stunning men walking on the street everyday. Some walk shirtless because it's hot and they feel more comfortable that way. Do I scream out at them, beep at them or whistle? No, I smile to myself in appreciation of them and drive on by. Why? Because I believe they have the right to go about their lives without me imposing my sexual desire upon them.”
― Miya Yamanouchi , Embrace Your Sexual Self: A Practical Guide for Women

“Jonah peels off his wet shirt and spreads it out on the ground in the sun. For a second, all Hallelujah can see is his bare skin. She blushes and looks away, not turning back until she hears the zip of his jacket closing. Now he’s looking at her. She doesn’t know if he caught her staring.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Where to touch? The worst of the waxy spikes were stuck from waist to groin. She swiped at his hip, managed to knock off a few. She made a wider sweep on his outer thigh, and cleared a few more. Her hand over his zipper. Shook.
Cade was still picking needles off his abdomen. He widened his stance. "Don't be shy." There was challenge in his tone.
He was getting even with her. She'd forced him to replace the bulbs. His request for her to remove the prickles seemed a fair exchange.
Her heart gave an unfamiliar flutter. Her stomach knotted. They presently stood between the tall box of headstones and a privacy hedge. They weren't visible from the road.
She decided to pick off the needles individually instead of making a palm-wide sweep. There'd be less touching. In her hurry, her knuckles bumped his sex. He sucked air. Enlarged. The tab on the zipper slid down an inch. He made the adjustment.
"Good enough." He pushed her hand away.
She sighed her relief.
He twisted, struggled with the prickles on his back, stretching to brush those between his shoulder blades. Frustrated by those he couldn't reach, he snagged the hem on his T-shirt and tugged it over his head. Shook it out. Grace's eyes rounded and her mouth went dry. Her had a magnificent chest.
Broad and bare, his chest tempted her. Her fingers itched to touch him. Even for a second. This was so unlike her. The need to satisfy her curiosity outweighed the consequences. She went with the urge. She traced his flat stomach and six-pack abs. His jeans hung low. Sharp hip bones, man dents, and sexy lick lines. The man was sculpted.
Cade clutched his shirt to his thigh. Stood still. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn't meet his eyes. Not after she flattened her hand over his abdomen, and his heat suffused her palm. His stomach contracted. Her fingers flexed. She scratched him. He groaned.”
― Kate Angell, The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

“And he’s also shirtless.
His body is… ripped.
Jack’s got a six-pack that disappears under his low-hanging shorts and every muscle looks like it was sculpted out of earthenware clay and baked to perfection. I thought it was fun to draw his hands, but why draw just his hands when his whole body should be cast into a bronze sculpture?
I don’t blame him for playing tennis all these years.
In fact, I thank tennis—”
― Julie Abe, The Charmed List

“Then he peeled his shirt off and over his head.
She did a double take. If she'd had a mouthful of water, it would've been a spit take. Leo was shirtless. She stopped moving. She couldn't tell if she was horrified or mesmerized by the sight of his abs, which looked like a waffle iron, minus the syrup. She'd imagined that underneath the starched and boring button-downs was a stack of white dinner plates in the shape of a human form.
But there he was, half-naked and absolutely real.”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“He was shirtless, with only the baldric across his muscled chest. The pommel of his sword glinted golden in the dying sunlight, and the feathered tops of arrows were stained red as they poked across his broad shoulder. I stared at him, and he watched me back. The warrior incarnate.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Bennett. Without. A. Shirt.
My breath hitched in my throat, jaw dropping the way Bennett had dropped his wet button-down on the scuffed linoleum floor. He had his arms over his head, preparing to put them through the sleeves of the T-shirt, which left his long, lean torso on full display. A thin coating of soft brown-blond hair dusted his pecs and traveled down his stomach in a line. At least it looked soft. Obviously, I wouldn't know without running my fingers over it, following the line it made down his stomach and into his jeans, over his...”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“This man had been hiding an actual, honest-to-god six-pack beneath his perfect-fitting clothes. His broad chest tapered down to a narrow waist, the way he wore his shorts making him look like he was a goddamn underwear model instead of a doctor or CEO or whatever the hell he was.
Frederick wasn't just attractive, I realized.
He was a Greek god.”
― Jenna Levine, My Roommate Is a Vampire

“We only have five minutes before dessert's ready," she protests.
"I can do a lot to you in five minutes, sweetheart."
"Then what are you waiting for, boyfriend?"
He moves with purpose, hooking his hands around her thighs so that he can lift her up and lay her down on the kitchen table. The dishes have already been cleared, save for a pair of forks that clink together with the sudden movement. His skillful hands make quick work of the front of her jeans, tugging them off hurriedly before kneeling on the kitchen tile between her thighs.
They've already eaten dinner, but he's ravenous. With the time now sitting at four minutes and thirty seconds, he wastes no more time and dips down to enjoy his meal.
The sounds she makes. Alexander's so hard, it's almost painful.
He teases her with his tongue, his fingers; makes his business her pleasure. Eden reaches her peak just as the timer on the oven beeps. Alexander can't help but smirk at himself. He always knew he worked well under pressure.
"Mmph, thank you for that," Eden mumbles. "Sit tight. I'll go get dessert."
"I've already had dessert."
She rolls her eyes. "Cheesy."
Alexander reclaims his seat just as Eden returns with a piping hot baking dish. It's a layer of molten chocolate topped with a gooey marshmallow layer and a buttery graham cracker crust. She also retrieves a tub of vanilla bean ice cream from the fridge and a can of whipped cream...
Which she immediately sprays all over his chest. He's momentarily shocked by the cold, but then Eden gets on her knees with that mischievous glint in her eye that he adores so much.
"Food needs to cool," she reasons. "We've got time to kill.”
― Katrina Kwan, Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love

“Dina slipped out of the bathroom and nearly walked directly into Scott. Well, fuck. He was shirtless. She definitely hadn't been wrong about his body. His wasn't the chest of a man who spent endless hours in the gym or kept to a strict diet. Scott's muscles were heavy, densely packed. His shoulders were broad and rounded with thick cords of muscle. He looked like some kind of Scottish war hero or Greek god.
Dina was definitely staring and she didn't give a fuck. She had been right about the hair too. A mass of dark brown--- almost black--- hair peppered his chest and trailed down his stomach to the V-shape of his hips.”
― Nadia El-Fassi, Best Hex Ever

“He wasn't wearing a shirt. Alert, alert! August Hodges was not wearing a shirt.
Her greedy eyes inhaled the wall of delicious flesh that defined his magnificent back. Muscles rippled in perfect synchronized motions as he lifted his arm. Scrumptious, delicious brown skin her lips and tongue longed to taste. Dampness instantly settled between her legs.
She must have made a whimper full of intense hunger, or maybe he just sensed he was no longer alone--- and she was going to go with the second, less embarrassing option--- because he turned. Holy fuck! The front was better than the back. He was a professional athlete who took his fitness seriously (even though he owned a cupcake shop franchise), so she shouldn't be shocked by how fucking good he looked. But it was one thing to be intellectually aware of something and another to be confronted with it up close and personal. A quick perusal registered an eight-pack. A trail of hair bisected his abs and led to... She jerked her eyes upward.
His eyebrows lifted. "Sloane?"
His tone was amused. No doubt her tongue was hanging out her mouth like a dog eagerly tracking the bowl of water its parent carried.
Dignity. She needed to find it, and soon. She lifted a hand as he reached for the teal Sugar Blitz polo on his desk. Let a mocking, flirty smile spread across her lips. "Please stop on my behalf."
He shot her a look. "I do so appreciate being treated like a piece of meat."
The finest, rarest cut of beef. Filet mignon.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“Damn that man. Damn his six-foot-two canvas of tightly packed muscle and unfairly gorgeous obsidian eyes. Damn him for not staying in the mold of ex-enemy and current employer but insisting on blurring the lines and upending my nicely ordered world.
God, I nearly moaned when he wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt, revealing the hard slab of his lower abs. Lord, but he's beautiful, nicely defined but big and strong. A fighter's body. My mouth went dry at the sight of the V and those glorious abs, swooping down and disappearing behind the low line of his sweats.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Hart smelled of clean sweat, sweet earth, and fresh-cut grass, and on days like this Rose was sure she could inhale him whole. There was balance to this, she thought. To her painting in the garden while he tended to it. The kind of balance you could only find in nature. Rose handed him the water bottle and watched his throat work; watched it the way a famished vampire might. She licked her lips.
"Ahh," Hart said when he came up for air. She loved that he actually said "Ahh" after taking a drink. She loved that there was a single blade of grass stuck with sweat to the base of his neck, greening him up like botanical jewelry.”
― Goldy Moldavsky, Of Earthly Delights

“Peter. Miles and miles of pale, muscled torso. A skimpy, threadbare motel towel slung dangerously low on his hips. And nothing else.
He looked like he'd been carved from marble. His body certainly belonged in a museum, anyway. He was big everywhere, his thick body suggestive of a person who'd earned his muscles through regular strenuous physical activity rather than in the gym.”
― Jenna Levine, Road Trip With a Vampire

“He's tanned a beautiful olive golden color, slick with sweat, with broad shoulders and a compact, muscular frame. I look away from the faint V of dark hair that trails down his chest toward his navel, feeling embarrassed by how drawn to him I am.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake