Page 71 of Not in My Book

I expected the kiss to progress into a steamy scene, but Aiden had cut the chapter off, leaving it to me.

“No way,” I muttered, slamming my laptop closed. “He can’t do this.”

He’d put me in a position where if we wanted to include a sex scene, thenI’dhave to be the one to write it. There’s nothing wrong with a closed-door romance, but I preferred it when the door was taken off the hinges. He knew as much. There was no way that I was going to be forced to write a full sex scene while he got away with just a measly kiss.

I snatched my phone from my nightstand, settling against my headboard. Before I could think better of it, I called Aiden.

“Rosie?” he answered.

“You can’t end the chapter like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I thought we agreed there would be a sex scene—”

“Youagreed.”

“—and I’m not going to write it.”

I could barely look him in the eye now. My face would be on fire every time I spoke to him knowing he’d read words I’d written like “slick” and “hardness.” The reasons sex scenes were so good in romance novels was because the characters were vulnerable, but safe with their love interest. No fucking way was I being vulnerable by myself over here.

He scoffed. “Why should I be the one to write it? You’re the one who reads them religiously.”

“I know you’re trying to insult me, but I’m not ashamed of that,” I snapped.

“Just write it, Rosalinda,” he snapped back.

“No way.” I couldn’t help the flush that took over my whole body at the idea of writing a sex scene for Aiden to read. “You were setting them up for it. You write it.”

“Wouldn’t the reader rather hear it from Max’s perspective?”

“Uh, no. Hunter’s point of view can be equally hot.”

He sighed dramatically. I could see it now. Aiden was probably sitting in a swiveling desk chair in his big office in his big expensive apartment. He was probably rubbing his temples, grimacing. He’d done that a lot during our first semester together.

“You’re not going to make me write this by myself,” I said.

There was silence on the other end for a moment.

“So, what then?” he said, his voice softening into curiosity. “You want to write it together?”

“Please. As if you’d ever agree to that,” I huffed.

A beat passed. “You’re on.”

I looked down at my phone, shocked. We’d written online together before, but asexscene? I’d just been provoking him—I hadn’t thought he’dagree. I was mostly hoping he’d write it on his own, but I couldn’t back out now.

“Fine.” I put my phone on speaker then reopened my laptop to our document. Aiden’s icon was now in the corner. “You first.”

“No way. I wrote the last chapter. You start us off, Rosalinda.”

I curled my fingers in my hands, hesitating over the keyboard. I gathered all the courage Aiden didn’t have, closed my eyes, and began to type.

I’d wanted this longer than I ever really knew. Maybe from the moment I met him. And here he was, hands on my hips, mouth on mine. I couldn’t believe I finally had him.

“Go,” I said. It took a minute for him to start typing. As I waited, I heard the creaking of a chair, and the soft clicking of his keyboard.

“I want you on the bed,” he said, his breath ragged. His hands drifted up to the zipper at the side of my dress and tugged it down, the sound filling the room. “Now.”

---