Reflected in You. Home · Reflected On 'Pseudo-variants' Reflected in the Septuagint · Read more The Life of David as Reflected in His Psalms · Read more. Reflected in You: A Crossfire Novel. Author: Sylvia Day. Extract. Chapter 1. I loved New York with the kind of mad passion I reserved for only one other thing in. deeper in you sylvia day pdf download. Table of Contents; Details. Deeper In You Sylvia Day Pdf Get notified when Deeper In You Sylvia Day Pdf 26 is.
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I dunno why but I want to make this Connor x Reader one shots. Maybe full of lemons, yes I am dirty minded deal with it. XD That is my drawing, I try to draw. sylvia day- crossfire 2 reflected in you - dokument [*.pdf] Praise for Bared to You “ Fullofemotionalangst, scorchinglove scenes, and a compellingstoryline. Deeper in You was the original title of Reflected in You, but it was changed because some merchants felt the title was too suggestive and they hesitated to put.
He settled between my legs, his erection lying hard and hot between the lips of my sex. He pushed gently against me, parting me, spreading me open as he slipped just the tip inside. I writhed against the tight fit, my body resisting. My nails dug into the tight curves of his ass and I tugged him against me. I stared up at him, my frustration melting as I watched a slow, gradual transformation sweep over his handsome face. His features tightened first, as if he were pained.
A wince knit his brow. His lips parted with a gasp, his chest beginning to heave with labored breaths. A tic began in his jaw, the muscle spasming violently. His skin grew hot, searing me. But what mesmerized me most was his piercing blue eyes and the unmistakable vulnerability that sifted through them like smoke. My pulse quickened in response to the change in him. His pleasured groan vibrated against me, his cock sinking through the sudden flood of semen to bottom out inside me.
Rolling his hips, he rubbed out the rest of his orgasm, emptying himself inside me, lubricating me so there would be no pain or resistance. He released my hip and let me rock upward; let me seek the perfect pressure on my clit to set me off.
With his eyes still on mine, he reached behind him to claim my wrists. One at a time, he lifted my arms over my head, restraining me. Pinned to the mattress by his grip, his weight, and his unflagging erection, I was completely at his mercy. He began to thrust, stroking through the trembling walls of my sex with the thickly veined length of his big cock.
Claiming me. Possessing me. I moaned as my sex rippled in climax, tightening and squeezing, milking him greedily. You could do cartwheels in here. My legs were still shaky from my induction into the Mile-High Club.
Directly in front of us was a dazzling view of the Vegas Strip at night. The windows were floor to ceiling, wrapping around a corner that was filled with a piano. The double-sided fireplace was faced with rough gray stone and decorated with a piece of art that resembled a hubcap with spacey spokes protruding from the center. Everything had a retro vibe that was at once glamorous and inviting.
It was way too much.
I was about to refuse it when Cary gifted me with a big grin and two thumbs up. Make that two. Thirty minutes later, I was fresh from a quick shower and dressed in my pajamas, eating chicken Alfredo cross-legged on the area rug.
Cary was plowing through his burger and looking at me with happy eyes from his position on the opposite side of the coffee table. You were passed out. When I went to sleep, you looked irritated. He wore pale green trunks and dark shades and caused an unusually large volume of women to walk on our side of the pool. Gotta have alcohol to celebrate. I was sunbathing on the lounger beside him, enjoying the dry heat and occasional splashes of water. My hair was still damp from an earlier dip in the pool and pinned atop my head with a lobster clip.
The scorching sun felt good on my skin, a sensual kiss that was nearly enough to make me less self-conscious about the water I was retaining—thanks to my period starting.
I headed over to the pool bar, my gaze raking the other loungers and cabanas through the purple tint of my sunglasses. The area was packed with guests, many of whom were attractive enough to warrant second and third looks. One couple in particular caught my eye, because they reminded me of myself and Gideon. The blonde lay on her stomach, her torso propped up on her arms and her legs kicking playfully. Her very yummy dark-haired man stretched out on the chair beside her, his head propped on one hand while the fingers of the other hand stroked up and down her spine.
She caught me staring and her smile instantly faded. With a smile, I looked away, knowing just how she felt about finding another woman checking out her man. I found an empty space at the bar and gestured at the bartender to let him know I was ready to order when he was. Misters attached to the ceiling cooled my skin and lured me to slide onto a suddenly vacated bar stool while I waited.
He extended his hand to me, a movement that brought my attention to his nicely defined arms. Nice to meet you. Business or pleasure? She was a compact brunette dressed in a dark polo shirt embroidered with both her name—Sheila—and Cross Towers and Casino. The earpiece in her ear and the utility belt around her waist gave her away as security. My brows rose. Gideon had me under watch. And he thought he could control what I did from a distance.
Sheila returned my look, her face impassive. She was only doing what she was paid to do. It was her boss who needed the kick in the ass.
I felt like a scolded kid and that really irked me. Abruptly, I faced her. Or do you have a list of situations? Maybe it was a list he had formed while he was with other women. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. And after all the crap he gave me about trust. Nothing against my gender and tough jobs. Why the hell are you sunbathing instead of chewing him a new one? He nodded.
He gave me much-needed freedom—within clearly defined limits—and arranged for me to see Dr. Travis, which led to the start of my long journey of recovery and my friendship with Cary.
I loved my mom dearly and know she loved me back, but my relationship with her was a rocky one and it was just so easy with my dad. I can come out and see you in about two weeks—the week after this upcoming one—if that works for you. You could never put me out.
You said nothing was going on there.
He stood withhis back to the door and a Bluetoothreceiver inhis ear. His arms were crossed and he was staringout the windows ofhis FifthAvenue penthouse apartment, givingthe impressionofa verysolitaryman, anindividualwho was separate fromthe world around him, yet entirelycapable of rulingit.
Leaning into the doorjamb, I drank him in. I was certain my view of the skyline was more awe-inspiring than his. My vantage point included him superimposed over those towering skyscrapers, an equally powerfuland impressive presence. His seriously addictive body was now dressed in two pieces ofan expensively tailored three-piece suit—an admitted hot button ofmine. The rear view ofhimshowcased a perfect ass and a powerfulback encased ina vest.
Most were pictures takenby the paparazzi who followed his every move. He was Gideon Cross, of Cross Industries, and at the ridiculous age of twenty-eight, he was one of the top twenty-five richest people inthe world. I was prettysure he owned a significant chunk ofManhattan; I was positive he was the hottest manonthe planet.
And he kept photos ofme everywhere he worked, as ifI could possiblybe as funto look at as he was. He turned, pivotinggracefullyto catchme withhis icyblue gaze.
There was a cracklinginthe air whenwe were near each other, a sense of anticipation like the coiled silence before the boom of thunder. Dark and Dangerous.
And allmine. I never got used to the impact ofthat face.
Those sculpted cheekbones and dark winged brows, the thicklylashed blue eyes, and those lips. I loved when they smiled with sexual invitation, and I shivered when they thinned into a stern line. And when he pressed those lips to mybody, I burned for him. Jeez, listen to yourself. But here I was, constantlyawed bythe gorgeousness ofthe complicated, frustrating, messed-up, sexy-as-sinmanI was fallingdeeper inlove witheveryday. That look conveyed how hard and deep he wanted to fuck me—whichhe did everychance he got—and it also afforded me a glimpse ofhis raw, unrelentingforce ofwill.
Acore ofstrengthand command marked everythingGideondid inlife. The soft rasp in his smooth, cultured voice was nearly capable ofmakingme orgasmjust listeningto it. And whenever he touched me, I caved. I hurried to the kitchento make us some coffee. He muttered something under his breath and followed me out, his long stride easily gaining on mine. I found myself pinned to the hallway wall by six feet, two inches ofhard, hot male. I craved himconstantly, so deeplyit was a physical ache.
What I felt was lust, but it was also so much more. But it had never beenanissue withGideon. He knew what I needed and howmuchI could take. The suddenflashofhis grinstopped myheart. Confronted with that breathtaking face framed by that lustrous dark hair, I felt my knees weaken just a little. He was so polished and urbane except for the decadent lengthofthose silkystrands. He nuzzled his nose against mine. Tellme what youwere thinkingabout whenI was onthe phone.
I need to get over it already. He was outrageously gifted in bed. And he knewit. I was completely seduced by the smoldering look in his eyes, the provocative tone of his voice, the heat of his body, and the mouthwateringscent ofhis skin.
He was mydrug, and I had no desire to kick the habit. With a soft groan, he sealed his chiseled mouth over mine, stealing away thoughts of what time it was with a lush, deep kiss. I pushed my fingers into his hair to hold himstill and kissed himback, my tongue sliding along his, stroking. Less than a month. His arms banded around me and tightened possessively. As bigofa kick as I got out ofGideonina three-piece suit, I muchpreferred himstripped to the skin.
My mother was on her third marriage, and allofher spouses were successful, wealthymoguls ofone kind or another. I knewthe price for ambitionwas verylate hours. Pack cool and light. Instead of risking my shot at coffee, I postponed arguing and continued on to the kitchen. Decorated in dark woods and neutralfabrics, the luxurious space was brightened byjeweled accents. As muchas his place screamed money, it managed to remainwarmand welcoming, a comfortable place to relaxand feelpampered.
WhenI reached the kitchen, I wasted no time inshovinga travelmugunder the one-cup coffeemaker. Gideonjoined me withhis jacket draped over one armand his cellphone inhis hand. I put another portable mugunder the spout for himbefore I went to the fridge for some half-and-half. Automatyczne logowanie Zarejestruj.
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