On Paper (2 page)

That’s not to say I was some dark and twisty kind of girl. I was far from emo, but I wasn’t someone who minded being on my own. I'd grown up an only child and I was used to entertaining myself. When I was growing up people would give me a hard time about always reading. "
What a lonely hobby
," they would say. "
How will you meet new people if you spend all of your time with your nose stuck in a book?
" What they didn't understand was that I had a million friends; each character I read about became my confidant. I listened to their secrets. I kept them close. I lived a million adventures and lived a thousand different lives within those pages. And as I got older, those experiences led me to a whole new set of people I called friends. Friends I couldn't wait to meet this week.

When we made it to the hotel it was already packed. The lobby was a swarm of people, luggage and chatter. It was a bit overwhelming to take in after our early flight and busy morning, but it also gave me a surge of adrenaline. I bounced from foot to foot, anxious for the check-in line to move faster. I wanted to get upstairs and change so I could explore. I didn’t want to leave an inch of this hotel or this city untouched. I wanted to soak up every moment of this trip, determined to make every second count.

Once we had our keys we headed towards the bank of elevators. There were crowds of people milling about and as we passed. I was surprised when I recognized a few authors and I felt a surge of excitement rush through me. The rest of the world could have their rock stars; my fangirling was reserved for the genius behind the words that filled my days. Words that had pulled me from darkness or allowed me to escape a crappy day. It was so much more than flash, it was emotion and the creativity was always enough to turn me giddy. At least no one here thought it odd. We were all in this together.

We didn't spend too much time in the room. A quick freshen up and we headed back downstairs to join the fray. We didn't even stop to unpack and that was saying something, because I always unpacked. This time the draw was just too strong. I wasn't going to wait another moment.

MY ALARM BEGAN
its annoying tune of torture and I groaned in protest. Long arms tightened around me, soft hands sliding up my naked torso. I searched my memory trying to recall the face of the woman who was currently pressed against me. I could feel bare tits rubbing against my back and a smooth leg tangled with my own.

I think her name was Shannon. We'd met in the lobby bar and after two cocktails she'd suggested a private nightcap. Who was I to refuse such an offer? She was a tiny little thing. To be honest, I'd thought I might break her. That's not arrogance; the girl was seriously tiny. I probably could have carried her around in my pocket for as tall as she was. From the way she twisted her body, I wondered if she was some sort of gymnast. I smiled as I felt her mouth leave slow, wet kisses against my spine, bringing back memories of the night before. It had me doing a quick calculation to see if I had time for a repeat performance.

"You don't have to leave just yet do you?" she cooed softly.

"I have to be downstairs in an hour," I said, moving to lie on my back. She crawled on top of me, her hair creating a curtain of waves that brushed across my chest.

"An hour? I can do a whole lot with an hour," she smiled. I watched as she leaned forward and kissed my chest. My hand gripped her hair gently, loving the way her mouth moved against my skin.

"Hmmm," I hummed as she moved lower. A morning blow job sounded like a great way to start this day off and tiny Shannon was more than happy to oblige.

GIANT BOOK CONVENTIONS
could be intense. You wouldn't expect it, a bunch of readers getting together to party it up for a week. Snoozefest, right? Wrong. Not romance readers. Not my readers. They were always up for a party. And you put them all together in some fancy hotel and give them permission to let loose away from responsibility and you'd better watch out.

I loved it. I always had a good time. They were long and exhausting, but I got to meet all kinds of people. More than that, I got to know them. These were the people who took the time to actually read my books. That was a big deal to me. I might take a lot of shit for granted, but I wasn't so much of an ass that I didn't truly appreciate that. They'd allowed me to live a life that I loved.

My brother, Miles, and I walked through the maze of halls and meeting rooms in search of 26C. Well, Miles searched; I followed and waved at people as we walked. I felt a bit like a show pony, but I liked being a show pony. Miles was also my assistant at things like this. He made sure I was on time, helped me carry my shit, and in return I gave him money and free travel. He was my best friend, so it worked out for both of us.

"What is this panel on again?" I asked. Might as well be prepared.

"Sex in Fiction," Miles answered. The fact that he'd said that with a straight face made me laugh. Two dudes walking through a hotel, at a romance book convention talking about sex panels. How was this our life?

"Sex in Fiction," I mused. "Never a dull day."

"You're job is weird," Miles agreed.

I walked into the room preoccupied and lost in my own thoughts. The instant squeals and cat calls put an abrupt end to that. Holy shit. This room was wall to wall women clutching their book bags and fanning their vaginas. The decibels ringing in my ear were enough to leave me with tunnel hearing for the next week. I gave them all a wave and a smirk and made my way to the empty chair at the table.

"It's loud in here," I laughed leaning over to one of my panel-mates. She was beautiful; copper hair cascading down her back, creamy skin, with a hint of blush coloring her cheeks. I couldn't remember her name off the top of my head, but I'm pretty sure I had fucked her at a signing in Vegas last year.

She rolled her eyes and went about straightening up the stack of books in front of her. Yep, that was her. I don't know why she was so hell bent on ignoring me. I’d given her a night that I was pretty sure had inspired that best-seller sitting in front of her. She should be thanking me and begging for a sequel.

This is why I had sworn off screwing fellow authors. They put too much shit into their books. It was like therapy for them. They couldn't help themselves. I didn't need that kind of drama. No sense in having my escapades coming back to bite me in the ass later. Everyone in this group talked. There were no secrets. I'd learned my lesson quick.

I leaned back and scanned the crowd. Readers. So many readers. They all bounced in their seats excitedly, eyes glued to those of us sitting up front behind this huge table. I glanced down the line and gave my colleagues a smile. Luckily, Red here beside me was the only one holding a grudge today. They all had books and swag spread out in front of them. I'd brought nothing. Apparently today I was my own swag.

The moderator called everyone to attention and I listened as she introduced us all. I was the only male on the panel. Hell, I was practically the only male at this entire conference. I'd fallen into this whole romance author thing by accident. I'd never expected it to turn in to what it was. Hell, I wasn't even that good of a writer if I was being honest. But I had a nice smile and a penis and that seemed to make up for any shortcomings that I had.

Okay, that’s a lie. I actually loved writing. I’ve done it my whole life and I’m good at it. I had just always imagined that I'd be writing for some hard-hitting news organization or something. But that hadn't turned out to be so easy. Competition was fierce and I was just a low man on the totem pole getting coffee and doing research. I knew I had to pay my dues, but I had been impatient.

Three Christmases ago I was sulking on the couch watching football with my twenty-two year old cousin, Amber. She was completely absorbed in some book and had barely put it down to have dinner with the family.

"What are you reading?” I'd asked. She glanced over her Kindle and glared at me for interrupting her.

"It's a love story," she huffed.

“Like girl porn?”

“No,” she’d growled back.

"Is there sex?" I'd asked.

"Yes. But that doesn't make it porn. It's a modern day fairytale. It's sweet. And sexy. Now shut up so I can finish," she said, shutting me out.

Modern day fairytale. Women loved shit like that. Real life was never good enough for them. Everyone wanted some ideal prince charming that didn't exist. It's why they all spent so much money buying books they could get lost in. If guys were smart they’d read that shit along with the girls and find out what flipped their switch. They were like a guy’s playbook on how to get laid.

That night I downloaded my first romance novel. Not that I needed a playbook, mind you, but I was curious. It was about a shy girl who meets a wealthy bad boy who can't be tamed. Of course he corrupts her and they have sex in all kinds of crazy places. Like, they have a lot of sex. It's funny, none of my old girlfriends were into having sex with me in cabs or letting me get them off at the dinner table. Maybe I was doing something wrong.

Maybe this chick was doing something right.

Maybe I should try my hand at writing fiction. Correction-- Romance. I was a great writer. Well, I was a great news writer. But I had a healthy sex life, a fine collection of porn, and one hell of an imagination. Why couldn't I write something that would have ladies swooning?

Turns out, it was fun. Turns out, I was pretty good at it. It was like taking countless women on an epic fantasy and I got to pretend to be their hero. I didn't believe in any of that love shit, or happily-ever-afters in real life, but they were a necessity in the world of make believe so I mastered them too.

I self published my first steamfest six months later. Maybe it's because I'm a guy, but it sold like crazy. Now, I'm writing all the time, attending book signings and book conventions, and getting laid like a motherfucker. Crazier things have happened. And now, as I scan this crowded room of panting ladies I just have to decide who I want to take back to my room with me tonight.

The moderator called the room to attention and I settled in to answer questions about sex in romance. I was pretty comfortable in front of people. Crowds didn't bother me. And even sitting here in front of all of these women, the idea of talking about sex just seemed like par for the course. I wondered how many of them I could make blush with my answers. I chuckled to myself at the thought and Red glared at me from the corner of her eye. She was definitely bitter.

"Take this seriously," she hissed.

"I always take sex seriously. I'm sure you remember just how serious I take it, don't you?" I gave her a smirk and took great satisfaction when she scowled and fidgeted uncomfortably.

This was going to be fun.

I DIDN'T SEE
her until her friend asked a question. They were sitting towards the back of the room, but how I'd missed her I couldn't understand. She stood out like a beacon. Her hair was the color of dark caramel, shiny and long, hanging over her shoulders and resting on the swell of her breasts. I saw her cheeks pink up as she glanced over at her friend in surprise. Obviously, the thought of asking a question in the middle of this crowd did not appeal to her. I tried to focus my attention on the brunette next to her, as I was pretty sure her question was directed to me, but my gaze was locked on her friend. It's not like she was even dressed provocatively. She was in jeans and a long sleeved black t-shirt that read ‘Book Nerd’ but she had a sense of simple grace and -- fuck me I was starting to sound like one of my books. I shook my head and focused in on the girl asking the question.