“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.”

“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.”

“He looked like he’d poured his muscular body into a pair of faded Levi jeans with holes in the knees. Fine black hairs curled enticingly in the deep V of his light blue T-shirt, and a black leather jacket set off the sexy ensemble. Eight ball, corner pocket. Stop that, you wacko!”

“He was a very tall, very thin creature that could only be described as a wood elf. His long, ponytailed hair was every color of autumn leaves; his skin was the hue of fresh-cut pine boards; and his eyes were the vibrant color of fresh spring foliage. He also wore blue jeans and brown loafers and a ragged t-shirt that read, "Choose your Weapon!" under which sat a line of Dungeons and Dragons dice of various shapes and denominations.Kay could barely believe it. For one, where did he get that shirt? These Otherworld people LIVED Dungeons and Dragons--they played it too? For a second Kay thought she might be looking at the most ironic t-shirt and t-shirt wearer combination ever.”

“Then he folded his arms on his chest, so his biceps strained at the sleeves of his t-shirt, courtesy of the arm curl machine.”

“Leaning over me with his chest bare, he pressed his wadded-up t-shirt to my ear. It was his Poser t-shirt that he wore to school at least twice a week,and he was willingly staunching my blood with it.He must be in love.”