Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I kill the overheads and light the fire in the great room. The logs are thick, slow-burning, and within minutes the whole space is bathed in a golden flicker, every surface alive with shadow. I pour myself a finger of whiskey, neat, and let the glass hang from my fingertips as I sit in the big armchair, facing the fire. I wait. I listen. Even with Kat’s bedroom door shut, I can hear her pacing upstairs. Soft steps, then a pause. The creak of bedsprings as she sits, maybe stands again. Then, a long, trembling silence before she finally pads down the stairs.
She’s changed clothes. She stands at the edge of the living room in a tight black t-shirt, no bra, and a pair of flannel pajama shorts. Her bare legs are smooth and ivory in the firelight, and she’s got a death grip on her phone, as if it’ll do any good. I motion her forward with a flick of my glass.
“Sit,” I say, and she does—cross-legged on the sofa, not too close. I take a sip and give her a moment to get comfortable.
“I thought we should talk,” she says, and I nod slowly.
“Shoot.”
She glances at the fire, anywhere but my eyes. I lean forward, elbows on knees, and merely wait.
Kat takes a deep breath and looks me straight in the eye.
“So what does the acting entail?” she asks in a firm voice. “Reading lines? Gestures? Expressions?
I smile, then set the glass on the table with a soft thud. “I’m writing a romance novel. An erotic one because there’s a lot of money in the genre these days. But this shit needs to be as true to life as possible and that’s where you come in.”
Kat swallows, the movement visible all the way down her throat. “So we’ll be acting, like we’re in a movie.”
“Not just act them out.” I let the words hang, watching her face bloom with color. “I want to use your body to test every line, every action. I want you to feel everything so I can describe it. I want you to react honestly, even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable.”
The beautiful blonde tries to meet my gaze but can’t quite manage it. Her breathing’s quick and shallow.
“Okay,” she says, the word so tiny I almost miss it.
I don’t let her off that easy. “That means you do what I say. When I say it. If I ask you to get on your knees, you get on your knees. If I tell you to strip, you strip.” I pause, to let that sink in. “I need to know you can handle it, Kat.”
The fire pops, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. She’s biting her lip, knuckles white on her phone.
“What if I—what if I’m not good at it?” Her voice is all nerves, but there’s an undertow of curiosity that makes me want to kiss her before tearing her apart.
“You’re perfect,” I say, and I mean it. “All I want is for you to be honest. I’ll handle the rest.”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “That sounds like a threat.”
I smirk. “It might be.”
I sit back, stretch out, make myself at home in my home. I want her to see how easy it is, how natural. She’s trying to keep up, but her brain is running in five directions at once.
“Why me?” she asks.
“Because you have no idea how attractive you are,” I say. “You don’t know how to weaponize it. Most women your age do. You don’t.”
She flushes, blinking fast. “That’s… I mean, that’s flattering, but also kind of—”
“Condescending?” I offer.
She nods.
“Maybe. But it’s true.” I lean in, let my voice drop low and steady. “You’re exactly what I need. Unfiltered. Fresh. Not jaded by years of men telling you how to behave. That’s what Sweet Lies promised me. That’s what puts the word “Sweet” in their name. Fresh and innocent is their trademark.”
She shifts on the couch, tugs the shorts lower on her thighs. “Okay, but you know, I can leave. I can walk out.”
I nod. “I’d drive you to the bus stop myself.”
Kat glances at the fire again. “So if I stay, what happens?”
I think about it. “We start slow. I give you a role, a scene. I direct you. You react. We see what happens. If you want out, you say so. Otherwise, you do as I ask.”
She takes a long, shaky breath, and for a minute I think she might back out. Instead, she fixes her eyes on mine and says, “You’re a pervert.”
I laugh, deep and genuine. “Guilty.”
She smiles, a tiny crack in the armor. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“That’s my girl,” I say.
She covers her face with her hands and groans, but she’s laughing too, and the tension in the room snaps like a wire.