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Bared to You Best Free Books Online Read from your Pc or Mobile. Bared to You (Crossfire #1) is a Romance novel by Sylvia Day. In some ways, Bared to Ebook Bared To You: A Crossfire Novel pdf download Download Bared To You: A Crossfire Novel PDF Download Praise for Bared to. Oie73jdaj - Read and download Sylvia Day's book Bared to You: A Crossfire Novel in PDF, EPub online. Free Bared to You: A Crossfire Novel book by.


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pe n g u i n b o ok sB A R E D T O YO U'Bared to You has an emotional feel similar to Fifty In fact, if I were to recommend any book today to readers who. About the book: Bared to You Book. Author: Sylvia Day. Series: Crossfire (Book 1 ). Publisher: Berkley. Publish date: (June 12, ). ISBN PDF Drive is your search engine for PDF files. As of today we . Sylvia Day Crossfire Series 4-Volume Boxed Set: Bared to You/Reflected in You/Entwined.

Click here to read and download book Click this link: I really like Mark. Hit with all that exquisite masculinity at eye level, I could only stare. I tipped my head back and followed the line of the building all the way up to the slender ribbon of sky. I watched them all go, my heart racing.

And, yes, tempted. It was hard not to be while faced with such a gorgeous, virile male so determined to get hot and sweaty with me. Still, the dismay won out. Why even call it a fuck? My awareness of him heightened to a physically painful degree. His earthy amusement made him less sex god and more human. Flesh and blood. I pushed to my feet and backed out of reach. Friendly even. With mutual respect at the very least. You want me to blur that line. When he stepped close enough, it surrounded me, closing me in with him.

Everything outside that bubble ceased to exist, while inside it my entire body strained toward his. God, he smelled good.

His powerful frame radiated heat and hunger, spurring my own wild desire for him. I wanted him. But he was no good for me. Honestly, I could screw up my life on my own. He was as aroused as I was, his cock hard and thick against my lower back. I had almost no room to breathe. He stared, his gaze searingly intense. He groaned, tilted his head, and sealed his mouth over mine. I sighed and his tongue dipped inside, tasting me in long, leisurely licks. I pulled on the silky strands, using them to direct his mouth over mine.

He growled, deepening the kiss, stroking my tongue with lush slides of his own. He pushed away from the door. I kissed him back as if I could eat him alive. My skin was damp and too sensitive, my breasts heavy and tender. My clit throbbed for attention, pounding along with my raging heartbeat.

I was vaguely aware of movement, and then the couch was against my back. His breath hissed out when he reached the point where my garter clipped to the top of my silk stocking.

He tore his gaze away from mine and looked down, pushing my skirt higher to bare me from the waist down. Abruptly, he yanked himself away, stumbling to his feet.

I lay there gasping and wet, so willing and ready. Someone was behind him. I had a nightmare vision in my head of what I must look like. And I was late getting back to work. Leave me alone. Then he pulled down my skirt, smoothing it with calm, expert hands.

We reached the door at the same time, and when I crouched to fetch my purse, he lowered with me. He caught my chin, forcing me to look at him. I was aroused and mad and thoroughly embarrassed. I jerked my chin away. I want you so badly it hurts. In fact, the rawness of his hunger for me was a serious aphrodisiac. Clutching the strap of my purse, I stood on shaky legs. I needed to get away from him.

And, when my workday was done, I needed to be alone with a big glass of wine. Cross stood with me. I set my hand over his and yanked on the handle, ducking under his arm to squeeze out the door. His secretary shoved quickly to his feet, gaping, as did the woman and two men who were waiting for Cross. I heard him speak behind me. Not wanting to make a scene, I waited until we were by the elevators to pull away.

He stood calmly and hit the call button. Tell me when, then. I shivered. Take a couple days to think.

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I had a late lunch with Mr. I just barely got back myself. My kickass Friday morning seemed to have happened days ago. But since I was still feeling shitty about my overly long lunch, I considered it penance and answered. It drove me nuts and it also broke my heart.

Thank you. Petersen say about you tracing my phone? Petersen knows I worry about you. Is your boss treating you well?

The good ones always are. I loved it when she was happy. I wished she were happy more often. And I know Cary will love it. My mother was rarely distracted for long. I answered with my usual greeting, but it lacked its usual punch. Still taste you. Nothing is coming to mind. But I do have some friendly advice.

Go spend time with a woman who salivates at your feet and makes you feel like a god. Fuck her until neither of you can walk. Dark and Dangerous for sure. In the interim, tell me what you do like. I have a date with my vibrator. Plus, I was having fun with him. What will it take to talk you into a threesome with B.

Good night, Gideon. Grudgingly, I thought of Gideon Cross, who preferred to strip all intimacy out of the most intimate act I could imagine. He was about my age, I guessed. Average height and nicely muscular. He had unruly blond hair, soft hazel eyes, and a nose that had clearly been broken at some point. I went to the wine fridge and pulled out a random bottle. Trey shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels, talking quietly with Cary as I uncorked and poured.

Classes will resume a week from Monday. It never ceased to amaze me how much cooperation money could buy. Your driver has the schedule.

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See you then. Do you have time for pizza Wednesday night? Spill it, Eva. You looked stressed. How did you two meet? In an old-school way. He seemed great, and he obviously digs you. Is he studying photography? But forget about Trey for a minute.

Get it out. Never even crossed my mind. And meet with Dr. Turn it over to her shrink. Do you still love it? Come on, Eva. What happened?

I wanted his take on it all. I lifted my head to look at him, and found him bright-eyed and biting his lip. What are you thinking? Just tell him what you want. What did I want? Aside from the obvious? Boil it down. Even a guy I take home from a bar has more going for him than that.

Come here often? What are you drinking? Like to dance? Do you work around here? I get it. Hit a bar. His clothes—black jeans and turtleneck—were more upscale, which intrigued me.

What he handed me was a business card made from papyrus paper and printed with a gilded font that caught the light of the electric signage around us. I made a mental note to hang on to it as a great piece of print advertising. Cary squinted down at the lettering, having a few more drinks in him than I did. The line to get in was long, extending down the street and around the corner. We were shown to a small seating area by the balcony and settled at a table hugged by two half-moon velvet sofas.

Enjoy your evening. Hanging out with my best girl and crushing on a new hunk in my life. Paired with black leather pants and spiked wristlets, it made him look sexy and wild. I tried to think of a way I could help. Two guys stopped by our table. I glanced at Cary, and then back at the guys. They looked like brothers and they were very attractive. Nice to meet you. I seriously thought about it.

I watched them all go, my heart racing. My gaze slid over him. I loved the look on him and was attracted to the softness it gave him, even though I knew it was only an illusion. He was a hard man in a lot of ways. That he wanted to skip past the getting-to-know-you stage and jump straight into bed? So damn sexy. Is that a general like of the overall package?

Or just the clothes? Only the sweater? I looked away. It was a lot easier talking about masturbation over the phone. Doing it while squirming under that piercing blue stare was mortifying. I glared at him, even though I was mad at myself for caring either way. I own this club, Eva. A pretty waitress set two pinkish-colored iced drinks in square tumblers on the table.

Two Stoli Elit and cranberries. Can I get you anything else? My nerves tingled. The working of his throat made me hot, but that was nothing compared to what the intensity of his stare did to me. All the chaotic emotion and energy that had been writhing around inside me abruptly became too much to contain.

Shocked by the fury of my reaction, I wrenched away, gasping. Gideon followed, nuzzling the side of my face, his lips brushing over my ear. Setting his drink down, he shifted on the sofa and drew a knee up onto the cushion between us so that he faced me directly.

Your credit card popped and your drinks were recorded. And Cary Taylor is listed on the rental agreement for your apartment.

No way. My cell phone. My credit card. My fucking apartment. Between my mother and Gideon, I felt claustrophobic. I pounded it, draining the tumbler.

My stomach churned for a moment, then settled. He took my glass and set it aside, then warmed my chilled hands with his. Yes, it is. My mom stalks me, too, and she sees a shrink. Do you have a shrink?

I could hear the blood rushing past my eardrums. Not for what you used it for! That has to violate some kind of privacy law. Is that so fucking hard for people to do nowadays? And he was crazy rich, which made even old, bald, and paunchy guys attractive. His gaze darted over my face. Because of me? I arranged it. So why do it? Why not wait until Monday lunch? A problem? I knew that was a lot of the appeal for him. Clearly, those were a sticking point with him.

You separate it from friendship, work. Okay, here are my thoughts. My job is priority number one and my personal life— as a single woman—is a close second.

Have it with me. I shoved his shoulder. As bizarre as this conversation must be for him, Gideon was taking it seriously.

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I feel devalued. A sizzling, predatory glimmer sparked in his eyes as I bared my weakness for him. I need an equal exchange in my sexual relationships.

Or to have the upper hand. Tell me how to get around it. What was that for? And incite. In self-defense, I tugged my hand back to my lap. All right? His smile was like lightning in the darkness, blinding and beautiful and mysterious, and I wanted him so badly it was physically painful.

His hands slid down to cup the backs of my thighs. Squeezing gently, he tugged me just a little bit closer. His tongue wet his lips in an action so carnal and suggestive I could almost feel the caress on my skin.

An unwelcome ache developed in my chest and I rubbed at it. Because I wanted him enough to take a calculated risk and break my own rules. I took comfort in knowing he was breaking some of his own, too. After a long, hot shower, I made my way into the living room and found Cary on the couch with his netbook, looking fresh and alert.

He pointed at a box on the end table. As I studied the gift, I found it very apt. I was in uncharted territory that was both exciting and scary. I glanced at Cary, who eyed the bottle dubiously. It tasted like sickly sweet cough syrup. My stomach quivered in distaste for a moment and then heated. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shoved the cork back into the empty bottle.

I already felt a little steadier. On the back Gideon had written Call me in bold slashing penmanship and jotted down a number. I took the card, curling my hand around it. His gift was proof that he was thinking about me.

His tenacity and focus were seductive. There was no denying I was in trouble where Gideon was concerned. I craved the way I felt when he touched me, and I loved the way he responded when I touched him back.

No strings, no expectations, no responsibilities. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was ten thirty. Of the goddess persuasion. The doorman smiled as we stepped outside—me in heeled sandals and a maxi dress, and Cary in hip-hugging jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

Will you need a cab today? She enjoyed it so much I plan to make it a tradition. Crossing the entrance threshold was like taking a vacation on the far side of the world. Every arched doorway was framed by lushly vibrant striped silks, while jeweled pillows decorated elegant chaises and oversized armchairs.

Small decorative fountains added the sounds of running water, while stringed instrumental music was piped into the room via cleverly hidden speakers. Stanton, have you met Gideon Cross?

He knew damn well my mom went nuts over any news about my romantic—and not-so-romantic, as the case may be— relationships. My mother, who sat in the chair on the other side of me, leaned forward with her usual girlish excitement over a rich, handsome man.

How could you not tell me something like that? Clearly the latter won out with you. By the time my massage appointment came around, I was in desperate need of one. I stretched out on the table and closed my eyes, preparing to take a catnap to get through the long night ahead. I loved dressing up and looking pretty as much as the next girl, but charity functions were a lot of work.

I sighed. Who was I fooling? Taking a deep breath, I consciously relaxed. I made a mental note to call my dad when I got home and thought about how to send a thank-you note to Gideon for the hangover cure.

I supposed I could e-mail him using the contact info on his business card, but that lacked class. Why not? The door opened and the masseuse came in. You ready? But I was getting there. I used the time alone to call Gideon.

How did he have my name and number in his contact list? Call the desk, Eva. Somewhat dazed, I went to the intercom and talked to the front desk, letting them know I was expecting him, and while I was talking, he walked into the lobby. A few moments after that, he was at my door. It was then that I remembered I was dressed in only a thigh-length silk robe, and my face and hair were styled for the dinner. What kind of impression would he get from my appearance? I tightened the belt of my robe before I let him in.

Gideon stood in the hallway for a long moment, his gaze raking me from my head down to my French-manicured toes. I was equally stunned by his appearance. The way he looked in worn jeans and a T-shirt made me want to undress him with my teeth. Thanks to you. You look beautiful, Eva. Way too vulnerable. I checked, knowing your mother would be there.

There was a dangerous purr to his voice that sent a shiver through me. I could feel the warmth of his big, hard body and smell the richly masculine scent of his skin. I was falling under his spell, deeper with every minute that passed. His tongue did that slow, savoring licking that made me long to feel him doing the same between my legs.

My hands went to his hair, sliding through it, tugging. When he wrapped his arms around me, I arched, curving into his hands. Oh, God. My gaze darted frantically to the clock on the cable box.

His other hand continued to plump my breasts, making them heavy and unbearably sensitive. Plush and pink. So soft. My back bowed as I clenched eagerly around him. How long has it been since the last time you were fucked? I had my thesis, then job hunting and moving. I was near mindless with the need for an orgasm. Gideon was breathing hard, too. For me. His hand at my breast moved to my cheek and brushed over it. I want you to feel my cum in you, so you think about how I looked and the sounds I made when I pumped it into you.

In that moment he owned me. And he knew it. Searing pleasure pulsed through me. Through the roaring of blood in my ears, I thought I heard him speak hoarsely, but I lost the words when he hooked one of my legs over the back of the couch and covered my cleft with his mouth. Then his tongue speared into me and I bit my lip to bite back a scream. I came a second time, my body quaking violently, tender muscles tightening desperately around his decadent licking.

His growl vibrated through me. I was boneless as he straightened my leg and still breathless when he pressed kisses up my belly to my breasts. He licked each of my nipples, then hauled me up with his arms banded around my back. I hung lax and pliable in his grip while he took my mouth with suppressed violence, bruising my lips and betraying how close to the edge he was.

He closed my robe, then stood, staring down at me. I caught you. I missed my father. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun. Cary and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.

As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. Beautiful, charming, and obsessivecompulsive.

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I thought my dad might still love my mom. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend? Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pajamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort.

Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too. Bye, baby. You just got a new one when you moved.

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Be good. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear.

I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Gideon. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cleavage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg.

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Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my butt in a racy V-cut. In his own way, Cary could give Gideon a run for his money. The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Cary. They love me. And you landed him. Enjoy yourself. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. I love you. Take your time. Oh, Gideon. The image broke my heart. His mother went on to marry Christopher Vidal, a music executive, and had two more children, Christopher Vidal Jr.

I saw that my mom had been right—they were all brunettes. The woman who appeared with him most often bore the hallmarks of a Hispanic heritage.

She was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy. I hate the word "puckered" and all its variations now. I really wish she'd just called it her puckering poopshoot and at least given the reader the joy of alliteration.

Did I mention he's apparently ramming his semen in there? Oh, and this is after she stands up and drips his load all over the floor, making Gideon all hot and bothered because, apparently, lack of adequate hygiene is a major turn on for rich, neurotic alpha males. And you know what? I still don't find this book hot.

I always get sidetracked when writing reviews like this because all I ever want to focus on is how funny it all is, but maybe you want to hear how the story stacks up, how the characterization is, how the plot progresses, or what the obstacles are. I can probably sum each area up in five words or less. Two people fucking. Cliched and irritating. Plot progression: It's two people fucking? Sexual abuse and shallowness.

Yes, they're both damaged and need each other and he's dark and brooding and she's blonde and angelic and the two of them end up in this mindfuck of a relationship, this monumentally codependent clusterfuck of sex and jealousy and petty mind games, and when I wasn't laughing, I kinda wanted to shoot myself in the face.

Guess what else?! Gideon gets all rapey when he's sleepy! No, seriously, he rapes in his sleep It's stupid. Really, really stupid. So why two stars? I'll tell you why two stars I turned toward him And found him masturbating with shocking viciousness. View all comments. I do get the comparison, but truly this is a MUCH better read.

Simply put, this book had the polish that FSoG grossly lacked. I read FSoG just before I read this one. Sadly, I found it disturbing and only gave it a 1-star review. The major similarities: Unlike Grey, Gideon never tries to coerce and manipulate Eva into doing anything that is for his sole pleasure alone. This series will continue, so hard to say where it will go. Tight, edited and well plotted. It is also quite refreshing when compared to the comic book tone of FSoG. Yep, Eva has a dark soul too and it controls her.

There are some other small similarities to FSoG, but for the most part I found this book stood well on its own.

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Gideon was a damaged soul, and the relationship between him and Eva often felt like a co-dependent mess and not a true romance. Beneath all the layers of their relationship I did believe they will find true love and heal as best they can from their past.

This was a gripping story and I loved watching these two come together and try to get it right. If you like dark, edgy erotica romance with great writing, then forget the comparison to FSoG. Loved the narrator. I think I enjoyed this book even more the second time through. The connection between Gideon and Eva is so deep and emotionally raw, and I think I connected with them even more in my re-read.

They are intensely interesting characters, both individually and together as a couple. I picked up on many of the subtle details this time that helps to further explain why they are damaged souls, and why their turbulent relationship might be the healthiest thing for them. View all 87 comments.

This book was absolute perfection for me!! It had me swooning, drooling and panting over Gideon Cross and had me reading for the better part of it with the world's biggest grin on my face.

The story is told from the perspective of Eva Hammel, a 24 year old girl who comes from money but wants to make it on her own in the world.

She chooses to start at the bottom and work her way to the top and gets a job in an advertising agency where she meets the guy who owns the company she works for and pretty much everything in NYC Gideon Cross and its just an instant connection between then.

Sparks fly from the first glance. And things go from there. Gideon Cross is just pure perfection in my eyes! I love how on the outside he's this unobtainable larger-than-life god but on the inside, he's just a man who wants to be loved by his girl. He caught me to him and cupped my cheek in one hand. Just tell me what I have to do. And give me some room to screw up. I've never done this before. There's a learning curve. I loved how open and honest they learned to be with each other.

They both made mistakes but they were understandable mistakes, nothing that make me want to throw my Kindle at the wall, nothing where I couldn't understand the reaction they had, and they always talked everything through after. I loved how their love for each other made them stronger than any problems that came their way. It was so refreshing and heart warming. We completed each other.

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Even now, as his hands roamed possessively over me, I felt a thawing in my soul, the desperate relief of being held - finally - by the man who understood and satisfied my deepest, most intimate desires. Not that I have a problem with either one. But it was refreshing and realistic that they had both been in a normal amount of relationships for a couple of mid-twenty year olds.

Eva's boss Mark and his partner Steven were delightful and fun. Her bi-sexual room-mate and best friend Cary was just so lovable. He was the ultimate big brother character with his own set of problems - I really really hope he gets a HEA. He so deserves one! We don't get to see much of his past, but you can tell its really heart-breaking. I loved how he knew Eva so well, he just knew when something was wrong just by looking at her. Show me the way, Eva honey. Make me believe. I swear I was fanning myself from the moment they met which was pretty much right at the beginning till the very last page.

For those of you wondering about the connection between this book and Fifty Shades, I'd say they have about as much in common as Fifty Shades does with Twilight. Sure the basics are similar, mega-billionaire hero who is possessive of his girl I found this book more deeply emotional than Fifty and I loved Gideon even more than Christian which is saying a lot cuz all of the Fifty books are on my 6 star list.

Happy, resolved but leaving me biting my nails waiting for October to pleeeeease get here faster!! We'll never be over, Eva. For more of my reviews, come visit http: I picked this book up at NetGalley based on the blurb.

For my enjoyment of contemporary romantic fiction, there has to be at least some believability to the plot, some credibility to the characterisations. The more so for con 1. And this is where this novel most notably failed for me.

Where are all the unattractive people? Or just the homely, plain, average people? The fat, plump, thin? The big-eared, big-nosed, lank-haired? The neat, but plainly-dressed, the badly-dressed? The everyday people that play the secondary and tertiary roles in fiction. This novel was void of any such realistic characters.

It's a given in romance that the hero is handsome. Sometimes the heroine is pretty or even beautiful. But the secondary characters here were described almost universally as pretty, good-looking, attractive, beautiful, handsome, gorgeous, stunning, exquisite. Even the extras, those usually nameless characters used to fill out the scene — waiters, receptionists, passers-by — were described in the same glowing terms.

I may have possibly missed an average-looking character, but it was so over-populated by the beautiful people I wondered if NYC indeed has any ordinary-looking people at all. Ah, NY. You rock. If this was a mistake on the part of the author, I find it hard to believe. But what's wrong with having plain or unattractive people in the story? It lends an authentic feel and degree of realism.

Otherwise, as here, it pushes contemporary fiction too close to fantasy. The hero The next major departure from reality for me was in the characterisation of the hero.

This is a man who at the relatively young age of twenty-eight has taken the business world by storm. Not just a comfortably well-off, self-made man. Not just a millionaire. But a billionaire. In other words, older men.

I realise this is fiction, but at least a passing acquaintance with reality is necessary. Why must he be so young? A man in his early 40s or even late 30s would be much more believable. A sensitive issue I read a book recently where the plot revolved around Hurricane Katrina and was asked if the author was sensitive to the plight of those who were affected.

I understand the concern and share it as I too dislike when an author uses a natural disaster, a major calamity, an act of terrorism, a serious social or health issue in a way that feels exploitative. Afterall, these things are real. Survivors of childhood sexual abuse can spend years dealing with very real, very serious problems. Often they have a number of very deep emotional, psychological, even spiritual issues.

Self-worth, self-esteem has often been eroded. Usually therapy, counselling, support and sometimes even medication, are the necessary paths to a fulfilling life. Success in careers, education and relationships, and financial independence is very, very difficult. The fact that Cross could possibly become this billionaire business tycoon at twenty-eight, negotiating through all the pain and problems of childhood sexual abuse, is beyond ridiculous.

Besides the lack of realism The connection, the relationship between the hero and heroine, regardless of the setting, the number or type of sex scenes, the time period or sub-genre.

There was a lack of emotional connection. There was little chemistry. It lacked any romantic subtleties or affectionate nuances or sweet build-up or passionate climaxes. The sex scenes were not overly explicit. Yet the protagonists' relationship was based strongly on a sexual connection which came off as harsh, sterile and shallow. This book relies heavily on the erotic for its appeal. With numerous, over-wrought sexual interludes, this may suit many readers. Some may even consider Cross the ultimate silver-tongued Lothario.

A bit of dirty talk in the bedroom between lovers can be wonderfully erotic. The same talk from a near-stranger comes across as creepy, ill-mannered and bizarre. But as far as romance goes, both Cross and this novel were about as romantic and charmingly glib as a fourteen year-old schoolboy sniffing around for his first conquest.

Something vaguely familiar There's something vaguely familiar about the premise of the book. A billionaire businessman with a history of childhood sexual abuse, who's into control, and a dominant. Other issues Briefly, some of the other issues I had with this novel.

There were many inconsistencies. For example, Cross is afraid of being at his parents' house, he rarely goes there. Whatever gives him nightmares has happened at this house.

Despite this, he has time at one point to stay long enough to go a couple of rounds with the heroine, regardless that he was desperate to leave.

I suppose this inconsistency was overlooked so that the setup for the exhibitionist sex scenes could be played out. Because of their pasts neither indulge in anal play. Suddenly out-of-the-blue, the heroine announces she wants it. No prior discussion, no build-up, no need of counsel, no step-by-step increments towards including this in their sexual lives. When this has been such a monumental and painful issue for them both in their pasts. The heroine who starts out independent and self-assured, seemingly loses these strengths upon meeting Cross.

She stumbles around him. She's obsessed and jealous. She gushes on and on about how beautiful he is. She comments constantly throughout the novel on how good he smells. Her first response is to always run away when there's a hitch with Cross. Her way of dealing with her problems is too often with alcohol. To have either the hero or heroine with a tortured past in romantic fiction is pretty standard.

To have both, is stretching it. Yet we have not just the hero and the heroine, but her best friend as well. And her mother and possibly his brother have some real emotional baggage. In conclusion Overall, I found Bared to You terribly melodramatic, unrealistic, with major lapses in character consistency.

The hero was crude, crass and lacking charm. Unoriginal, trite and using childhood sexual abuse in such a context, felt too much like trivialising an indescribably painful issue. The romance lacked subtlety. The relationship between the protagonists never seemed to develop from its superficial, sexual beginnings.

View all 95 comments. Warning-Contains minor spoilers!! May hinder your reading experience!! My very Honest review -- fans of this book please bear with me. The story is written from the perspective of Eva Tramell. Because of her new job she has just moved to Manhattan from San Diego. The first time she meets with Gideon Cross, sparks fly.

The tension between them is palpable and their chemistry is nearly explosive. I really liked the first few chapters,which shows them skirting around each other. It was quite good. So,why th Warning-Contains minor spoilers!!

So,why the 2 stars? Gideon says that he wants to fuck her. She is offended to be seen as vagina with legs. And I was so happy to have a clear headed,strong heroine who does not take any shit. When Gideon asks her what she wants,she says she does not want a relationship but will like to know something about the person she sleeps with. Gideon agrees. It's all well and good Until the first time they have sex in a limo.

A connection forms between them in those moments. Gideon, stupid man emotionally withdraws. And Eva very,very hurt;runs aways. Gideon of course goes to Eva and tries to make up. This is where I began to get irritated.

She knows that he was emotionally closed off. She herself had said that she did not want a relationship ,but instead of taking a stand and telling him what she felt,she runs!

The next time,Gideon takes her to a hotel room he owns the hotel and they have a very good time together. Gideon is in shower,and Eva is about to join him when she finds out that Gideon brings all his women there.

She becomes angry,very angry. Now,her anger is justified because Gideon means a lot to her and she too wants to mean something to him. But does she confront him? Does she give him a swift kick which he so rightly deserves? Also she was the one who said that she did not want a relationship,only sex. So does she give him a chance to make up??? She runs. Gideon runs after her and apologizes again.

This goes on again and again and again But really their idiocy crosses the normal level the night Eva tells Gideon about the sexual abuse she had to endure when she was a child. Then she becomes upset to see pity and horror in his eyes,not lust. Really,she has just told the man who may not recognize it yet but in reality loves her fiercely,that she had been a victim of sexual abuse for 4 years and what was he supposed to do???

Jump her. Well to stop her from leaving,Gideon does exactly that. Still,at night when Gideon has another of his terrifying,somehow sexually related nightmare it might be that he too was a victim of sexual abuse ,Eva asks him to tell her about that.

He tries to turn the topic and This time Gideon lets her go. Eva too does not approach him. First,she thinks to herself feeling hurt -- "He does not want to share his past with me. Well,that's a deal breaker for me. She has not tried to approach me. I'll try and let her go.. Well it goes on and on and on like this Eva runs,Gideon comes after her and they have sex and make up and then something else occurs,Eva runs, By the end I was literally banging my head!

Well that's all View all 69 comments. To give credit where credit is due, Sylvia Day is not E. Her grammar is good, she varies her sentence structures and, although her propensity for purple prose is at times off-putting, she's a competent wordsmith. That being said, I would not want to imply there was anything remotely literary about this book. There isn't. Which is a shame, because someone should start writing literary er I decided to read Bared To You because it was sold as a well-written version of Fifty Shades of Grey.

Which is a shame, because someone should start writing literary erotica again. It was certainly gratifying to discover that at least this heroine wasn't a year old virgin who'd never masturbated. However, like FSOG, it casts improbably young people in improbably mature situations. Eva is 22, a recent graduate who has landed a job at an ad agency in Manhattan with little to recommend her.

She lives in an apartment with a wine fridge and a bi-sexual roommate who tucks bottles of Cristal on ice for her as a favour. Gideon Cross is a year old billionaire who seems to own half of Manhattan. I have to admit to being puzzled by the choice of age of the characters, both in this novel and in 50 Shades, until I realized that there is no way the litany of contrived conflicts in the plot would work with even marginally mature grown-ups.

It takes characters with hair-trigger reactions, non-existent impulse control and an expectation that your lover comes to you without a past to make the plot move forward. Just like 50 Shades, the story jerks spasmodically along from emo moment to sex scene to emo moment like pawns doggedly inching their way across a chessboard of adolescent over-reactions.

The sex is interestingly written. He's either going down on her repeatedly, or gasping out lovelorn remarks like 'your cunt's so tight'. Well, she's I'm not sure how this goes down with the mommy consumers of mommy porn. Does it remind them to redouble their kegel exercise efforts, or do they resign themselves to saving their pennies for a vaginoplasty?

Still, I'm unsure whether it's the sex that is supposed to get you off or the conspicuous consumption. The book is littered with brand names. An ever-present materialism thrums like drone through the whole novel and is eerily reminiscent of Bret Easton Ellis's psychopaths obsession with brand names. Along with the consumerism is an unvarying textual obeisance to the buff, ripped, perfect body.

No one in this novel has any flaws. No one is plump, no one is bony, no one has acne, no one has visible scars. No one has a single physical shortcoming. It's a world of Calvin Klein ad models, toned and photogenicly sheened in odorless sweat, fucking on the immaculately decorated set of a feature piece for Vogue. Their perfect bodies might be read as an ironic juxtaposition to their myriad emotional scars.

But probably not. It has the heavy taint of soap opera about it: There is a supporting cast of the mildly villainous and the long-sufferingly loyal to provide that friction: Puppets to adorn the rococo melodrama. Don't mistake me. There is actually a very compelling and rather serious plot beneath the glutinous and facile emo soup. Perhaps I'm just not the right sort of woman to read these types of books.

I don't need my fiction strewn with glossy images of super-rich lifestyles, impossibly sculpted bodies, decorated with brand products, or have my fictional mental traumas used to such transparently sensational plot-driven ends. The explicit sex doesn't compensate for the number of times I rolled my eyes while reading this. I miss reading stories about adults. Finally, I am quickly recognizing the blatantly mercenary strategy for publishers to manipulate readers into buying into a whole series by shoddily and abruptly ending the first book.

Both this book and FSOG used this strategy. It is a supreme comment on how publishers - even the big ones like Random House and Penguin - have become nothing more than Mall-Chain discount sellers. No wonder they are quickly loosing their legitimacy as arbiters of good fiction. View all 29 comments. Don't Forget Your Crown: Self-Love has everything to do with it. European Family Law Volume I: Even Dogs in the Wild: The No.

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