Book Review Of The Stranger นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I could feel the strangers lips on my neck as his hands went to my boobs and squeezed it and that was when i got back to my senses but too late the stranger was gone. * * * ©Pop Precious

This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Businesses, Places, Events, and Incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used in fictitious manners. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, or actual event is purely coincidental. Consists of grammatical and typographical errors due to its unedited. Please bear with it and thank you! Just A Stranger © 2021 by The Deadly Sinner ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, excepting brief quotes used in some description, written specifically in this book.

“Then what are you doing in a cave this deep in the woods?” The stranger's voice was soft as he said, “Hiding. Same as you, I guess.” My knees gave out before I could reply. He caught me before I hit the ground. His touch was warm — too warm. It made me want to cry again. “Don’t… touch me,” I warned, but the stranger's response was calm and matter-of-fact: “You’re bleeding. If I don’t, you’ll die.” He tore a strip from his own shirt, carefully pressing it against my wound. I hissed in pain but didn’t stop him. His fingers brushed against my skin, gentle, precise — not like Liam’s, who always carried command in his touch.

"I'm still trying to piece together what happened last night and how I ended up here." The stranger seemed uninterested in answering her questions; instead, he chose to focus on her well-being. He examined her face with a look of concern, taking in her fragile appearance with a discerning eye. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently, his gaze flickering between her and the bed. He couldn't help but notice how cute she looked in his oversized t-shirt, "I had the maid change your clothes. I'll retrieve them from the laundry before you leave." Chloe's hair fell across her face in a tousled mess. With a gentle sweep of her hand, she brushed the stray locks aside, revealing the full beauty of her

Well, plenty of them had come after Vegas, but this one,this one wasn't supposed to be sitting in his hands. The cover read: Sensational Devotion. My stomach dropped. Of all the books he could've picked... He picked that one. The one I'd spent months pretending wasn't inspired by a certain masked stranger who had completely derailed my life. My fingers tightened around the pen. Please tell me that's a coincidence. His mismatched eyes watched me carefully. Too carefully. Almost like he was waiting for a reaction. Which immediately made me suspicious. Because normal readers didn't stare at authors like that.

Yet she kept riding the late train. On Friday afternoon, something strange happened. She slipped into her favorite little bookstore after work, seeking distraction among the dusty shelves. As she reached for a worn copy of *The Secret History*, a tall man with a face cap did the same. “After you,” he said softly. Their eyes met for a brief second. A strange jolt passed through her..... half recognition, half heat but it vanished before she could grasp it. He looked like the stranger from the train or was it just her mind? He smelled faintly of cedar and rain. Just another handsome stranger.

The rest of the night was a blur. Her leading me up to my room. Unlocking the door and pushing me in. Me stumbling to my bed, my breath racing, heart pumping. Needy and desperate for someone's touch. For a release. Finding a man in my bed. Kissing him. Having sex with him. Oh God. I swallowed as the memory came slamming back to me and I sat up quickly, finding my clothes and putting them back on. I found my purse sitting on the bedside table and feeling horrible for basically assaulting a stranger last night, I left some cash on the table for him as compensation.

“I like to find out if there are any serial killers in the areas I visit.” “Okay, neither of us was alive at that time, and I thought you didn't like to travel.” He poked holes in his stories. “A. He could still be alive and killing as I texted. B. This is the first time I am doing this and I hit the jackpot. I mean Clown face? He is a legend.” His eyes glazed over. “That’s so worrying that you're touting this kid killer as a legend. You know that you're a total stranger to me, right?”

I paused which stretched too long. I forced a small smile. “Occupational hazard, I guess.” But he didn’t smile back. Instead he leaned forward slightly. “Strange." He murmured. My pulse quickened. “What is so strange in it ? Many people do it .” “ I don’t know why it feels… familiar. Like I have seen it before .” The word hit harder than it should have. I tightened my grip on the cup. “Maybe you’ve seen it somewhere,” I said lightly. “People have habits.”

“First, you wait. Heal your brother. Let them think you’re weak, broken. They won’t expect you to rise again. When the time comes, I’ll find you. Until then—keep him close.” Soren’s jaw tightened at the word wait. He wanted names, addresses, the faces of those who’d set the fight. He wanted to tear whatever foundation they stood on to splinters. But the stranger’s plan made a cold sort of sense: let the enemy grow careless, then strike. The patience tasted like iron in his mouth, but he swallowed it. He wanted more. He opened his mouth to demand specifics—who, where, when—but the stranger’s movements were already small and swift, like a shadow slipping away. He turned and left the room as qu