Naked Man Quotes

“I won’t be called wicked to reject a crooked offer from a naked man.”
― Vincent Okay Nwachukwu, Weighty 'n' Worthy African Proverbs - Volume 1

“Merritt was about to reply, but she froze, her hand suspended in midair. The window happened to be positioned to mirror the opening of the next room with remarkable clarity.
The naked form of Keir MacRae was reflected in the glass as he crossed the bedroom.
She went hot and cold all over, riveted as he bent to take a pair of trousers from the leather trunk. His movements were easy, graceful with a sense of coiled power, and that body-
"You're going to work through the night without any dinner at all?" she heard herself ask.
-with those long, elegant expanses of tightly knit muscle and sinew-
"I'll be fine," he said.
-was magnificent. Fantasy wrought into flesh. And just before he fastened the trousers, she couldn't help noticing the man was incredibly endowed.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“All thought flew from my mind when he pulled the shirt from over his head, revealing the elegant sweep of his back, the hard-packed muscles rippling under smooth skin. Arms, chiseled like a god's, reached down and...
"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," I murmured fervently.
He pushed his jeans off and bared an ass that was, frankly, spectacular. Those tight globes flexed as he kicked the jeans away with one long leg.
Turn away. Get out of here.
I shouldn't look. I coveted my privacy, and I was blatantly watching Lucian strip naked. He deserved his privacy too. But I couldn't blink. I couldn't move. He was...glorious. My fingers gripped the railing, holding on tight.
The light of the pool gave his skin an unworldly greenish cast. He rolled his shoulders...unf...and then dove in. The water rippled outward in his wake. I actually shivered with lust as I tracked him along the bottom of the pool, a pale arrow of flesh darting through the turquoise glow.
Silently, he surfaced on the far side of the pool, then neatly turned to do laps. Perfect form. Long strong arms. Clean, steady strokes.
Édith Piaf kept singing as Lucian set a steady but brutal pace. He went at it lap after lap. I grew fairly dizzy with rude thoughts about his stamina. The night was cool, but my flesh was hot. God, that water looked so good. I could practically feel it running over my fevered skin.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“Then he planted his big hands on the side of the pool and, with an effortless push, thrust himself up and out of the water.
"Sweet mercy..." My knees went weak, and I gripped the rail to keep from falling over. Oh, Édith, I don't regret anything either.
His body was a Bernini sculpture come to life---Triton looking down on mere mortals. Water sluiced over rippling planes of muscles, trickled down dips and cut grooves, heading straight toward...
His dick. Even from far away, it was impressive. Long and thick with a wide head and plump balls. My lips parted, heat flushing my cheeks, and my nipples tightened.”
― Kristen Callihan, Make It Sweet

“He was once again wearing only a pair of trousers, chest bared, and sight was extremely arousing. All that naked male flesh, all that dark, swirled hair, was unsettling and thrilling. She longed to run her fingers through the matted pile, to rub her nose against it, while she traced over sinew and bone.”
― Cheryl Holt, Total Surrender

“He had apparently finished cleaning his clothes and set them on the boulder while she fussed with her plaid. Now he was done bathing too and was coming out of the river, his front as fully on display as his behind had been as he'd gone in.
Claray's eyes ran over his chest and arms, taking in his wide shoulders and bulging pecs, then cascaded down over his rippling stomach to---Gasping, she whirled abruptly away and covered her eyes as if she could erase what she'd just seen. Good heavens, that was really... a terribly undignified appendage, she thought with a shake of the head.”
― Lynsay Sands, Highland Wolf

“His torso was a perfect "V" of golden skin and muscle; his slim hips, whiter than the rest of him, tapered to thighs and calves that could have been turned on a lathe, and these were dusted all over with fair hair that glinted in the low sunlight. The hair on his head was cropped short and beacon-bright, but the features of his face were nearly indistinct from where she watched. Given the glory of the rest of him, they scarcely seemed to matter. The man's beauty was, in fact, an assault, and a peculiar tangle of shock and delight and yearning began to beat inside her like a secret, second heart.
And then the man stretched his arms upward, arching his back indolently; exposing the dark fluffs under his arms, and this, somehow, seemed more erotic and intimate than the rest of his naked body combined. Susannah had seen paintings and statues of naked men, for heaven's sake, but none of them had ever sported fluffy hair beneath their arms. In fact, the sheer easiness with which this man wore all his raw beauty frightened her a little. He was like someone too casually wielding a weapon.
She fumbled her sketchbook open.
Quickly, roughly, she sketched him: the upraised arms, the curves of his biceps and legs and the planes of his chest, and when he turned, the darker hair that curled between his legs and narrowed up to a frayed silvery-blond line over his flat stomach. Nestled right between his legs were, of course, his... male parts...which looked entirely benign at the moment, really, at least from this distance. She sketched those, too, as she intended to be thorough, hardly thinking of them as anything other than part of her drawing.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“The man finally pulled himself from the water onto the pier again. Dazzled, she watched water run in clean rivulets down the muscles of his back and buttocks. He shook himself like a great cheerful animal, diamond droplets flying from him, exhaled a satisfied-sounding, "Ahhhh!" and then strode off the pier and vanished from her sight.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“Kit smiled a little as he bent to retrieve the abandoned sketchbook; the irony of a spy being spied upon didn't escape him. He leafed through it idly.
Imagine that... she'd not only been spying... she'd been documenting her findings.
He bit back a laugh when he saw himself, arms stretched skyward, penis dangling modestly---he had been swimming, after all. But it was a beautiful drawing. She'd roughed in the pier beneath him and the trees behind it, too, and she'd caught him perfectly, the mindless contentment of the moment, the strength and confidence of his body, a hint of pleased-with-himself arrogance in the arch of his back. There was nothing tentative or missish about the drawing; it was, above all things, honest and surprisingly accomplished. He was flattered, but he felt oddly exposed, which had nothing to do with the fact that he was naked in the sketch. She'd captured something essential about him.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“Ryker was sprawled across the bedding, ass-up and naked as the day he was born. He let out a sleepy hum and shifted a little before settling back down.
Damn. He's chiseled from head to toe, I'll give him that. Wait, I'm freezing my ass off and he's butt naked and content?”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Dragons