Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Fair,” I say. “But do you like me?”
A pause. Then she bites her lip, trying not to smile. “Unfortunately.”
Finn wanders in from the kitchen then, wiping his hands on a towel, and Nixon shifts in the corner. This is the moment.
Fuck it. This is how you get people to trust you. Not with rules and silence. With stories. By being human.
Or, in our case, pretending to be.
“You guys ever play Truth or Dare?” Finn asks, surprisingly casual for someone who usually speaks like he’s rationing words.
Scarlet snorts. “What, like teenagers at a sleepover?”
“More like grown-ass adults with liquor and questionable morals,” I say. “Our version’s better. Higher stakes. No dumb dares like licking doorknobs.”
Nixon makes a noise in his throat, the sound of a man realizing this is spiraling, but it’s too late to stop.
“Fine,” Scarlet says. “Hit me. Truth.”
I grin. “Most adventurous place you’ve had sex?”
She hesitates, then shrugs. “A dining table. In a showroom. With the lights on.”
Finn raises a brow, clearly impressed. Nixon looks like he might combust.
“My turn,” she says. “Finn. Truth or dare.”
He considers, then answers, “Truth.”
Scarlet grins. “Same question.”
Finn leans one shoulder against the wall, relaxed. “Dining table. One I made. Six coats of hand-rubbed oil finish. Sturdy as hell.”
I laugh. “He’s humble.”
Finn shrugs, eyes glinting. “I take pride in my work. All my work.”
Scarlet’s face is flushed now, whether from the wine or the imagery, I can’t tell.
“Reed,” she says, turning to me. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth, baby. Always.”
“What’s your thing? Like, in bed.”
“Oh, we’re going there.” I wink. “Dirty talk. I like using my voice. Filthy things whispered in the dark. I like hearing a woman fall apart from the sound of it.”
Scarlet shifts, her lips parting slightly.
“Your turn,” I say, but before I can ask, Finn cuts in.
“Nixon.”
Nixon lifts his eyes slowly, like he’s only now acknowledging that he’s part of this game.
“Truth,” he growls.
“What’s your thing?” Finn asks, even though he knows. He’s caught onto my game, and he’s playing it like a pro.
Nixon pauses enough to make me nervous, then he admits the truth. “Control.”
Scarlet swallows.
Nixon adds, “Orders. Trust given little by little. I like surrender, not when it’s forced but when it’s given willingly.”
Nobody says anything for a beat.
Then I lean closer to Scarlet with a grin. “And we all like to watch.”
Her fingers tighten around the stem of her wine glass, and her lashes lower like she’s trying to blink something away.
She doesn’t speak right away.
And that pause?
That’s golden.
Because she’s not shocked or offended. She’s thinking about it.
Her voice, when it comes, is quiet… careful.
“That’s a lot of attention.”
I tilt my head. “Only if you want it.”
Finn folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wall, studying her with the same quiet attention he gives to his carving.
“Most people don’t want to be watched,” she adds, gaze flicking between us. “They want to pretend they’re not being seen at all.”
“Then they’ve never been looked at the right way.” Nixon’s voice commands without raising volume. “When a woman is really seen by someone who knows what they’re doing… it changes things.”
Scarlet shifts in her seat, wine glass trembling slightly as she sets it on the table.
“What if I’m not someone who likes being watched?” she asks.
Finn’s the one who answers, his voice gentle but sure. “Have you tried it? I think you’ll like it”
Scarlet stares at him and smiles. It’s small and a little crooked, tinged with playful danger.
“You’re confident.”
I chuckle. “We’re not offering theory, sweetheart.”
Her laugh is a little shaky, her tongue’s looser than usual, and her eyes are too shiny to lie.
“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with three men I barely know,” she mutters.
“You’ll know us better soon enough,” Nixon says.
Scarlet arches a brow. “That a threat or a promise?”
“Whichever gets you to stay.”
And fuck, the way she looks at him after that? Like her whole body listened before her brain caught up.
But then the moment shifts. The flicker of tension, the weight of the wine, maybe too much heat too fast. She sways slightly and stands, blinking as if surprised by the room's movement.
“I think I need a bathroom break,” she says, more to herself than anyone.
Finn’s already up. “End of the hall. Second door.”
She nods, not quite meeting any of our eyes now, and makes her way down the hall, hobbling as she goes.
When she’s out of earshot, Nixon shoots me a glare. “She’s not ready.”
“No shit,” I say. “But she’s thinking about it.”
Finn watches the hallway like he’s already worried she won’t come back out.
“She’s never been with anyone who knew what the fuck to do with her,” I add, quieter now. “You heard what she said.”
Nixon says nothing.
But the look on his face tells me he did, and he plans to rectify it, soon.
10
SCARLET
I splash cool water on my face in the tiny bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink like it might steady more than my body.