Page 78 of Bad Enough

Hot. Filthy.

In other words, perfect.

And a whole lot of familiar material to certain chat discussions from the last seven months.

Ho-ly fuckkkk.

The pages kept turning until he got to the end. Once the book closed, he lay on the couch, the book on his chest, his eyes staring at the ceiling, and his thoughts awhirl.

But it wasn’t just the sex. She had built great characters. The setting was so vivid he felt like he’d been there, in time and space. What really surprised him, though, was how good the story was. He’d read the whole thing straight through. Now he understood how the guys on the team had read it overnight, even if he really wished they hadn’t. She was an excellent writer.

He thumbed back to page one hundred thirty-four in the book and reread through to one hundred forty-seven. The book went back to closed on his chest, and his brow furrowed, deep in thought. Maybe…

“No. Way.”

He looked at the cover again. Long red hair. Emerald-green eyes. Long, perfectly manicured nails.

My little Flame, who knew you could burn that hot?

A little bit of jealousy raged that his teammates had read her book, getting a glimpse into her dirty, sexy mind.

A little? Try an inferno of jealousy.

No wonder Nemo had been all smirks this morning.

Abruptly, he sat up on the couch, put his boots back on, and strode toward the stairs, leaving the book behind.

The invasion begins now. She is officially under siege.

28

JUNE 16TH-17TH

Sylvan

“H.R. Puffenstuff!” she muttered, then rested her elbows on the desk’s edge, her chin in her hands.

Nope. Don’t create new. Recreate the truth.

She wasn’t sure this was ethical. This wasn’t the same as what she did with The Nature of the Beast. That was a recreation of elements of her research.

However, earlier, she’d realized that she did have a story to write. Hers and TB’s story. No one needed to know. He certainly wouldn’t read it to know, but it still felt wrong.

There should be enough ways to change it, especially since it’s a historical, paranormal storyline. Not like our ending will match the book’s ending, anyway.

She’d made great progress today, flying through fifteen thousand words and coming up to the first real sex scene. Then, she got stuck because she tried to reinvent the wheel with the characters.

She groaned, then slid her face into her hands. “Sister Mary Francis, what do I do now?”

Sylvan wasn’t sure how long she sat there blankly. It felt like minutes, but it was probably more like seconds. Gathering all the energy she could, she uncovered her face to look at her screen. She began dejectedly pressing the backspace key, murmuring, “Delete, delete, delete,” with each stroke of the key.

“I doubt it’s all unsalvageable.”

She squawked, and her hand flew to her chest. Instantly, she realized who it was. “Jiminy Cricket, TB, don’t do that! That’s three times now.” All she could hear was her panting breath as her pulse rocketed beneath her palm.

He leaned against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets, just a silhouette in the dark by the spiral staircase. “I wasn’t trying to be quiet. You were lost in thought. You really need to be more aware of your surroundings,” he chided.

“Trust me,” she grumbled. “I know when you’re around most of the time. It’s hard to miss you.”

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