“Good evening, Mrs. Grey," Christian says softly. He's standing by the piano, dressed in a tight black T-shirt, and jeans...those jeans- the ones he wore in the playroom. Oh my. They are over washed pale-blue denim, snug, ripped at the knee and hot. He saunters over to me, his feet bare, the top button of the jeans undone, his smoldering eyes never leaving mine. "Good to have you home. I've been waiting for you.”

“His hair was still wet, and he was in a black long-sleeved T-shirt and tattered blue jeans. His feet were bare. Casual. Comfortable. Gorgeous.”

“He's naked except for those soft ripped jeans, top button casually undone. Jeez, he looks so freaking hot. My subconscious is frantically fanning herself, and my inner goddess is swaying and writhing to some primal carnal rhythm.”

“...his gaze met hers. It was crazy. Dressed down in worn blue jeans and a black shirt, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.And the moment was sort of perfect.Even with the deer head staring over his shoulder like a total creeper.”

“He was dressed just like on TV, with lots of silver chains and bracelets, ripped jeans, and a black muscle shirt (Which was kind of stupid, since he didn't have any muscles).”

“He molded himself next to me in my bed; he was dressed in black like some ‘summer’ Ninja; black wife beater shirt; black jeans and ever so quiet and panther-like in his movements…”