Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I'm no virgin. I've slept around quite a bit, because… well, I like sex. But I like sex in a darkened room, and it helps if the guy I’m with has had a few drinks, because men are a lot less picky when they're horny and drunk. That sounds desperate, but it’s just pragmatic.
And honestly? None of the men I've ever been with have looked like Tate. I mean, these Cowen men must have genes that go back to the gods. It might be why I'm a little infatuated with Tate.
So stripping? It’s a little uncomfortable. I'm brutally aware of the dimples in my thighs, the rolls at my tummy, and the way there's a little divot in my back because of… you know, back fat. I'm a normal lass. Every once in a while, I'll get a wild hair and do a couple of crunches, but everyone knows that doesn't do much when it's once in a blue moon.
But right now, when I'm standing here in front of Tate, and he's sipping his drink like he's about to watch a peep show, I'm suddenly wishing that I did squats a little more than once a fortnight. I'm suddenly wishing that his beautiful house wasn't so fucking well-lit.
"Look at me while you strip," he orders. “Do not break eye contact with me.”
"So we crossed that line, have we?"
"Oh, yes."
I hold his gaze. He's the first one to break it, as he drags his gaze down my full body from my neck to my toes, then slowly, ever so slowly, back up again.
He puts his glass down. Stares at me. "Now, tell me the fucking truth."
Does he think that being clothes-less makes me want to fess up?
"Which truth is that?"
"All of it."
There's no use in pretending anymore. There's no use in holding back. I don't know why I ever did. It's time for me to give him nothing but the bold, honest truth, like I've sort of been wanting to do anyway.
So I'll get in trouble. So I'll be punished, whatever that entails. But I can't hold back anymore. I've taken this way too fucking far.
And I don’t want to lie anymore. I want to face the consequences… then deal with the aftermath, whatever that may be.
I draw in a deep breath. Let it out again.
Fine, then.
"It was me. I wrote the books. I didn't want to tell you the truth because it's embarrassing to admit. I never meant for them to sell as well as they did, but once they did, I couldn't stop, because they’re my bread and butter. I make crap for money at the bookstore, and because of… reasons… I need the money.” He doesn’t need to know all that.
It’s like now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “So I kept writing the books, and I told myself that it was okay because they cast a really positive light on all of you. I also told myself that they were really cute, that you guys were all just sort of inspiration for these books."
He’s not surprised as he looks at me, and he doesn't say a word. His jaw is tight.
He's not going to say anything until I've told him the whole truth.
"I never imagined that any of you… or really anyone… would actually read them. If I did, I probably would've written them differently."
"Is that right?" His voice is angry, shaking. It's the first time I realize that he's barely holding onto his temper, and I am in so much fucking trouble.
Is he going to take me to his brothers like this? Naked, ready to punish me? Is he going to take a video, and record what I have to tell him? I will die if his brothers see me like this.
I have to admit, I'm already dying a little just standing in front of him alone.
I nod my head vehemently. "Yes. Definitely would’ve written them differently."
"How so?"
“I probably wouldn’t have made you all superheroes,” I blurt out.
He scowls. “Really? That’s all that you’d change?”
“Well, no. I probably would've changed the setting a little more. It's just, I’ll admit… I love it here. It's gorgeous. Every time I've come to visit my friends I feel as if I'm in a little retreat. I mean, people would die to come to a place like this, and the books that I write are escapism. I like that they can have a little bit of a holiday in every book."
"What about the details about the Clans? Have you made that up? Or are those based in reality too?"
I swallow. "Both."
"Which other Clans have you been in touch with?"
"Well… in a roundabout way, the Aitkens Clan. The Welsh. The McCarthys. I know people, I’ve got spies everywhere. I may have sort of asked questions in a roundabout way and used the details of what people have told me to do my own research."