Page 18 of What the Smut?

Excitement about this new idea fills me; I’m basically vibrating with positive energy as I send the ink dancing over the paper.

By the time I’ve flipped and covered a few pages, Adrian has made his way over. He now sits on the chair next to me, trying to peek at my paper like he’s cheating on a math test.

“This isn’t classified, you know? You can look,” I assure him.

“So this is how it works? An idea just pops into your head?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” I shrug. “When it hits me, I just need to write it down. I mean, I don’t have time to work on this right now, but if I don’t write it down, it’s not going to go away. Hell, it might not go away regardless. Still, my best bet is to write it down and file it away for later.”

“How exactly did you start writing romance when you don’t have any . . .” He pauses like he is expecting me to finish the sentence. For once, I keep my lips shut. “. . . experience yourself?” he finally finishes.

“I’ve been reading since I was fourteen. I started out with fantasy but quickly found that romance is my jam. At first I only read young adult romance, which means no on-page sexy time. However, once I started getting into the explicit stuff, I really got hooked.” I cringe a little when I realize what I just said.

“So you like reading about sex, but you don’t want to experience it?”

“I do want to have sex . . . I mean someday, with someone. Anyone. No one in particular. I’m gonna shut up now.”

It’s too late for that.

“No one in particular, huh?” He runs his fingers over his jaw, giving me a look that makes me go warm all over. I really, desperately wish we could talk about something else. Anything else.

“Do you like sushi?” I blurt out.

His eyelids flutter like I just lapsed into Russian. “Sushi?”

“Yeah, you know. Raw fish and rice. Well, actually, it’s not the raw fish that makes it sushi. Did you know that?”

“I did not.” His lips twitch, which of course makes me stare at them, and that is really something I shouldn’t do. But he’s the one who got me thinking about sex. This is all his fault.

“It’s the preparation of the rice that makes it sushi.” The words are pouring out of me like water out of a fire hydrant. “I mean, you could have a shrimp tempura roll. The shrimp is cooked, but it’s still sushi. Or a vegetable roll,” I add. “Like avocado and cucumber. I love those. But salmon rolls are my favorite.”

“Thank you for sharing that,” he quips sarcastically.

I point to what has become my new work notebook. “Back to this.”

My heart is sinking like the Titanic.

And now I want sushi.

“So is that the only experience you have? The porn you read, I mean?”

My head bobs while I fight to keep from blushing. I’m failing. “Of course. It’s not like I pay people to have sex in front of me so I can take notes.”

I really need to sew my mouth shut.

“That sounds pretty hot, actually.” He is loving this. His eyes are twinkling and his nostrils are flaring like he’s trying not to laugh. He couldn’t be bothered to crack a grin at the movie, but me? He’ll gladly laugh at me. “But you know something? And I know it probably sounds strange coming from a man, but it’s the truth. Porn is not realistic at all.”

“Oh, I know that,” I tell him with a chuckle, waving my hand. Which is shaking, by the way.

“Do you?” He strokes his jaw again, narrowing his eyes. “I would like to read a couple of your scenes to prove that to myself.”

“You know something?” I lift my chin because, finally, I have a way to win this argument. “If my readers didn’t like the scenes I write, they wouldn’t read more of my books. I wouldn’t get such glowing reviews either. Since that does not seem to be a problem, I think I’m doing just fine. Thank you very much.”

He cocks his head like he accepts this, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to get the last word. “All I’m saying is, you should try the real thing. Write from experience.”

I will officially die if one of us doesn’t change the subject. “I need to write.”

“I thought you were writing.” He nods toward the manual again.