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I was mortified and pushed away from the table. What I’d written that morning was a stupid fantasy and private. And I hadn’t done any editing on ityet.
Four sets of gazes watched me in awe as I stood with my back to the fire, the heat wrapping around me. “I’m an author who writes romance. Not erotica. And you two”—I pointed at Raze and Leven—“are not in my story. They’re fictional characters.” I never should have made the characters bear shifters or described them like the two princes. I gripped my hips, refusing to admit I’d used them as my inspiration. “And who gave you the right to go through mystuff?”
“Your book lay open on the bed when I went to fix the sheets.” Raze wiggled his eyes myway.
“Liar! No way in hell wereyoumaking my bed!” I gulped for air, no longer able to stand being in theircompany.
Ash’s fingers found my hand, stroking me. “Hey, Bee, can I be in your storytoo?”
“Gah!” I spun and stormed out of thekitchen.
Behind me, their laughter boomed. Assholes, the lot of them. When I reached my bedroom, I slammed the door shut and locked myself in. “Bastard. Fuckwit.Dickhead.”
I stared over at the bed, where the sheets were pristine and pulled tight over the mattress, as was the blanket. And right there on the puffed-up pillow was my book left open. I marched closer and discovered on a new page with handwriting that wasn’tmine:
Bee, I will never just take you from behind. I’m not an animal. I’ll strip you naked, lick every inch of you, and then tongue fuck you until you came into mymouth.
