Prologue
373 Words
“Again.”
The command slithered from his lips, sending a fresh chill down to my already breathless mouth.
“I—”
“Does the line start like that?”
He cut me off, eyes locked on mine like a sniper with no intention of missing. His stare wasn’t just intense — it devoured. Every round of this so-called ‘reading session’ was slowly sucking the soul out of me.
“Answer me, Anna. Did she say it like that?”
He asked it slowly this time. Patiently. But there was something dangerous in his gaze that wouldn’t let me breathe, wouldn’t let me release the knot of nerves tangled in my stomach.
I exhaled shakily.
“No,” I murmured, eyes drifting away — a defiant act, even if small. My butt was numb from this awkward position, and my dignity was somewhere under the couch, gathering dust with my self-respect. Regret had started whispering in my ear, loud and clear.
He tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable.
“Then say it. Say it properly.” A pause. A smile dangerously hot
A smile from the devil.
“ Talk about it, Anna.”
“Talk about my d*ck like she did.”
I wanted to vanish.
Poof. Gone.
Who gave me the audacity to write such a filthy scene? Me. That’s who. I’m a writer, okay? It was supposed to be fantasy. Fiction. Not reality.
But the twist?
I got chosen — somehow — to be the female lead of my own story.
Lucky me.
I swallowed hard, trying to recall how the original line went. The female lead I created had confidence, sass, and probably experience. Unlike me. She’d seen more d*cks than I’d seen sunsets. I’d seen… zero.
Great.
I took a breath, shaky and pitiful.
“I don’t need your d*ck to experience pleasure. Don’t be cocky,” I recited the line, voice as robotic as a GPS in a traffic jam.
Please let this script reading be over. Please.
But Rowan didn’t follow the script.
His lips crashed into mine.
Not hard. Not rough. Just lightly. Like a feather dipped in gasoline — soft enough to spark the fire, dangerous enough to burn everything I stood for.
- Writer
