THE STRANGER KYRA DAVIS PDF

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Title: Kyra davis just one night 01 the stranger, Author: lili, Name: Kyra davis just one I had bargained her down to flirting with a stranger and I was still trying to First Pocket Star Books ebook edition January POCKET STAR BOOKS . This book is no longer sold separately but included in Just One Night. Read Online Here I Go Again by Jen Lancaster EBook [PDF] Ea. Read Online Navigating Early by Clare Vanderpool EBook [PDF. The Stranger (Epub, Pdf) by Kyra Davis - Download Free Book. The Stranger. Description:"Kasie Fitzgerald knows who she's supposed to be.


The Stranger Kyra Davis Pdf

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ned direkt. Köp Just One Night, Part 1: The Stranger av Kyra Davis på Bokus. com. Format: E-bok; Filformat: EPUB med Adobe-kryptering. The Stranger book. Read reviews from ebook, pages. Published January 21st This was my first exposure to Kyra Davis. ETA: I also want to point. Kasie knows who she's supposed to be. But one passionate night with a mysterious stranger will teach her who she wants to be. You should.

Those words have never been easy for me, but now that I have said them out loud I can see the smile in her teary eyes.

I push her toward the bed even as she pulls me there and we tumble down onto it, our lips parting for no more than seconds before they connect again, her hands desperately working on my buttons as I yank down the zipper on her dress. I love you, I love you, I love you. With one hand I undo the clasp of her bra; my other hand strokes her hair, gently pushing it away from her face.

I love you. She tosses my undershirt to the floor, and my cotton-jersey pants quickly become a discarded pile on the bed. I tear her panties from her body. I want to be inside this woman.

I need to be inside her. And when I enter her she cries out, her legs immediately wrapping around my waist as I adjust my position, placing my feet on the ground as I thrust into her again and again.

And still I kiss her, still I pet her hair, slip my hand beneath her back, arching her up to me as she clings to my shoulders. This woman who is art, who is my ocean, who will be my wife.

I pick her up, never losing our connection as I press her back against the wall, as her thighs continue to hold me.

As she presses her hands and face to the wall, my own hands are now free to explore her in different ways. Fondling her breasts, toying with her clit as I bend and straighten my knees, thrusting into her as she absorbs me. That moment of mindless bliss so brief and so damn perfect. Read more. Dade leans toward me, ever so slightly.

Just One Night

Care to make it interesting? More interesting, he clarifies. And if I have the upper hand? I ask, twisting the words to my liking. I laugh.

A negotiator, Mr. Dade says. I like it. The dealer doles out a few more cards. I get a three and a six while Mr. Dade gets a king and a four. But I keep that thought to myself and quietly tap my bloodred fingernails against the felt green table.

Dade gestures to be hit as well. He stands up, offers me his hand.

Shall we? An old song pops into my head, Devil Inside, and I mentally play it as a soundtrack while I carefully get to my feet. But there is no us, I remind myself. This is a fantasy. A fleeting and insubstantial encounter. Here, he says as he moves us over to a bar with walls of glass. People are being drawn into the fantasy of us. He sidles up to the bar and waits as I struggle to get on the bar stool. I pull out my cell to text Simone my whereabouts but before I can even enter the first word, the bartender is here.

I think the lady would like a glass of your finest champagne, Aaron, Mr. Dade begins. I say quickly, some deleterious impulse getting the better of me.

It feels grittier, stronger; it calls for grains, not bubbles. I lower my head as I send the text to Simone. This is only my second time at the tables. I look up, asking the question with just the rise of my eyebrows.

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He slides the bartender some money. Our server seems to sense that this is not the time to interrupt. How do you know how I normally dress? I laugh nervously. No one outside of Cirque du Soleil knows how to walk in these. He leans forward and I can smell the faintest wisp of woodsy cologne.

The Stranger (Just One Night #1) – Kyra Davis

A blank slate. I should walk away. Slowly, I move my hand to his and then move it away from my face. I like the feel of it: strong and textured. These hands have built things and been exposed to the elements.

I visualize them grasping the reins of a horse. I see them inside the engine of a sleek sports car that can drive fast and hard away from the constraints that hinder the rest of us.

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I imagine these hands touching me, his fingers inside of me. My voice comes out raspy and flustered. Do you want to know my name? My full name? I just want to know who I am now. Tonight is. In his face I can see my own desire. But I know what it is now. I notice the button at the top of his jeans. I glance around the bar.

Except tonight. I almost laugh as the cashier hands Mr.

Even as I rejected the idea for myself I could see that there was a certain clumsy innocence to that particular American tradition. Nothing about what I was about to do with Mr. Dade was innocent. I knew it would be. The floor of the parlor has enough square footage to hold a party. The untouched kitchen could accommodate a caterer. I hear him close the door and my eyes dart to the French doors on my right. I sense him walking up behind me now. I can feel the heat of him and I tense as I wait for his touch.

Instead he brings his mouth close to my ear. Make yourself comfortable, he says, his voice growling as his words entice. Take something off. I turn to face him.

The Stranger

Thoughts of Dave push their way into my consciousness. This is a betrayal. Can I live with this? Can I compartmentalize this one night from the rest of my life? Your shoes, he says, his smile teasing. Take off your shoes. Not from him, not from myself. Keeping my eyes on his, I ease down into a chair. He kneels before me and his fingers gently brush against my ankles as he unfastens the small, delicate buckles of my heels.

My legs are pressed tightly together.

Not yet. But as the shoes come off, his hands slowly move up my calves, to my knees, to the outside of my thighs. Again the air I had just inhaled gets caught in my chest as I momentarily forget how to breathe. I wait, expecting him to go farther but his hands fall away. And there it is again, that devious grin, that careful balance between urgency and patience.

He gets up and I close my eyes and try to find some balance. I hear the freezer open and close, then the clink of ice cubes falling into an empty glass. I was worried about something only moments ago; there was something I needed to think through. What was it?The negatives: Sometimes those imperfections can be cut out, removed entirely.

Robert Dade throws her thoughts and world into chaos.

His hands go hesitantly to the small of my back. They are absolutely wrong for each other, and if this marriage actually happens, which I hope it won't, I don't think it'll make it. But in this book, it almost seemed necessary.

My shame curls up my throat, choking me. Davis the Sophie Katz series skillfully creates an uplifting story in which sex is presented both as freedom and as a metaphor for power, and where raw chemistry is the clear winner over bland complacency.

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