Hot Alphas Read online

  “We can see that,” Andy said.

  “No, it’s not a book; it’s the book.” It wasn’t exactly the same as the one she’d read from. The one that had sort of inspired her antics of the previous evening, not that she was about to admit it. This one was a smaller version of the same book, like the kind bought at grocery stores. But it was the same other than that. “We kind of got in a fight over it the other day. It’s an erotic story. You know, where the hero is all alpha male and the heroine’s submissive and whiney and … Well.” Jay’s usual rhetoric regarding the inferiority of women in these novels needed to be updated after her recent adventures in the bedroom. And/or the living room.

  “She’s not whiney,” Lacy interjected. “She’s not really submissive, either. That’s just her role in the assignment that Mr. Holliday has given her in their sexual exploration class. Actually, she’s more of…” Lacy trailed off as she met her sister’s shocked expression. “What? I’ve read it. Obviously so has Mr. Sexy-No-Job. You haven’t, Andy?”

  As interesting as it was to discover that equal-rights-supporter Lacy had read the book, Jay was more intrigued by Noah’s involvement. “But why does he have it? And why is it packaged up like this?”

  “No idea. You could ask him.” Lacy sat forward and glared. “Except then you’d have to admit that you stole it from his closet.”

  Andy shushed her sister. “You’re not helping. We need a plan.”

  “I’m not trying to help, this is ridiculous! Your plans have a history of going awry, big sis.”

  “Lacy, she’s struggling here. Be a little understanding.”

  “Fine,” Lacy said with a huff. She nodded toward the book in Jay’s hands. “That’s the mass paperback edition. I don’t think that’s out yet. Let me look.” She grabbed her iPad off the coffee table and began swiping at the screen.

  “You said there were more of them like this?” Andy asked.

  “A whole box full.”

  “Maybe he gives them away as gifts for some reason. And they’re packaged that way so that people won’t be embarrassed about getting an erotic novel.”

  Hadn’t Noah said something about that same thing? He was a reader—he’d proven that—but it was odd that he had such a finger on the pulse of this particular genre.

  “Yeah, that version doesn’t come out until next month. Then the sequel is out a couple of months later.” Lacy hugged the tablet to her chest. “I can’t wait for that one. N. Matthew is truly an artist with his words.”

  “His words? The writer is a man?” Jay had assumed the author was a woman. She hadn’t even realized that men wrote erotica for women.

  Lacy nodded. “That’s what it says in his bio, anyway. He lives in Boston, too.”

  “He lives in Boston?” Too many coincidences. Jaylene was beginning to see the bigger picture. She swallowed, not quite believing that she was thinking what she was. “Do you know what he looks like?”

  “I’ve never seen him. He doesn’t usually have a picture in his books. Maybe online…”

  While Lacy typed away on her iPad, Jaylene flipped through the book. A scribble of black near the front of the book grabbed her attention and she turned back to find it. There, on the title page, in neat block letters were the words, All best. Followed by N. Matthew’s signature.

  Neat block letters. Just like Noah’s handwriting.

  “Oh, shit.” Lacy’s eyes were wide as she peered over her screen.

  The exclamation echoed Jay’s own thoughts. Because oh, shit was exactly how she was feeling at that moment. The pieces fit together perfectly, but she still had to have confirmation. “You found a picture, didn’t you? It’s Noah, isn’t it?”

  Lacy answered by flipping the tablet around so Andy and Jay could see it clearly. There he was—his bright smile, that floppy hair, his wicked eyes. Next to his picture, the headline of the article read: Bestselling author N. Matthew sits down for a rare interview.

  Jay had to look away. She pinched at the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed, as she tried to fit her mind around this revelation. Noah was an erotic writer. Noah wrote books about sex. Noah wrote books about the very things that Jaylene had spent her life crusading against. It was one thing to say that what they did in the bedroom was private. It was quite another thing to promote it.

  Wasn’t it?

  God, she didn’t even know anymore.

  Andy shifted on the couch next to her. “Well, this explains … stuff…”

  It did. And it didn’t. It didn’t explain why Noah hadn’t come out and told her. He’d asked her to trust him and yet he couldn’t trust her? So he probably assumed that she wouldn’t take it well, and rightly so, but still. She’d deserved to know before she’d given him her faith. Before she’d given her trust. Before she’d given him her heart.

  “Apparently he’s sort of a recluse. He doesn’t do many signings or appearances.”

  Jay opened her eyes to see Lacy was reading from the article. She tossed the iPad on the table in front of her. “Obviously he doesn’t want a lot of people to know what he does. I guess he likes his privacy.”

  “Or he’s ashamed,” Jay said under her breath. As he should be.

  Or maybe he shouldn’t be.

  Dammit, why was this so hard to get a handle on? She’d almost rather have found out he was a drug dealer.

  “Are you all right, Jaylene?” Lacy seemed genuinely concerned.

  And Jay genuinely felt uncertain. “I’m not sure.”

  “I don’t understand what the big deal is? So he writes about sex.… That’s kind of cool. Isn’t it? I bet he’s good in bed.”

  Jaylene shot a piercing glare at Andy. For someone who was supposed to be able to read people, Andy certainly had missed the read on her. More than once.

  “Oh, you’ve already slept with him!” So maybe Andy had some ability to read people after all.

  Well, no reason to deny anything now. “Yes, I’ve slept with him. And he’s good in bed. He’s great in bed, actually.”

  “Is he all alpha dominating like he writes about?” Lacy was practically bouncing in her chair. “He is, isn’t he?”

  “He is.” Oh, was he. Her body still felt the after aches from their night before. “Which is part of the problem.”

  “How is that a problem? That shit is all-caps HOT.”

  “Lacy, I’m a feminist!”

  “So am I! Who gives?”

  Jay leaned back into the sofa at that. Though Lacy wasn’t much of an activist, she’d been a big supporter of the movement, donating her time and talent to more than one of Jay’s events. In fact, Jay had always thought they’d shared similar viewpoints about women and society. And now she was finding out that Lacy read the erotica books without even an ounce of shame.

  So what was Jay’s problem with it?

  She didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know what my issue is, Lacy. It seems like a contradiction, I guess. I’m still grappling with the bedroom stuff. I don’t know if I can accept that he writes it, too. I mean, this is what I fight against on a daily basis.”

  Lacy made a sound that could only be defined as scoffing. “You don’t fight against this, Jay. You fight for women’s rights and for equality in the world that we live in. You work to make sure that we are treated well and respected and not taken advantage of. These books have nothing to do with that. Honestly, as a feminist I think you should be giving this subject more attention. There are obviously many women who read these books, who embrace this fantasy, and just as many people who assume that makes them weak or stupid. Am I a weak woman? Am I stupid? Because I don’t think so. And I love my smut books. And isn’t it ridiculous that I’m not allowed to read them without receiving some sort of judgey label? Isn’t that what feminism is supposed to really be about? Empowering women to be who we want to be and not what someone else thinks we should? Well, this is who I want to be.”

  Jaylene kept her eyes pinned on the book she still clutched in her hands. She was too emba
rrassed to look anywhere else. Lacy had just put her in her place and didn’t she deserve it? And wasn’t this happening more and more regularly over the past few days?

  Andy cleared her throat.

  Lacy took the cue. “Sorry if that was a bit ranty. Getting off my soapbox now.”

  Jaylene shook her head. “No, it was perfect. I needed to hear it. Noah said the same thing, actually. Apparently it takes repetition to get through my thick skull.”

  Lacy tucked her legs underneath her. “I’m impressed that Noah agrees. It’s not the same since he’s not a woman, but I’m still impressed.”

  Jay bit her lip, considering her next move. She had to talk to Noah. Had to confess that she’d snooped. Had to address his secret. “This isn’t the only problem, you know. He still hasn’t told me. He obviously doesn’t think I can handle it.”

  Lacy gave a supportive smile. “But you can. Although I see why he wouldn’t think so. You do, too, don’t you? Are you ready to ma—woman up?”

  Yes, okay. She could. She would. Because she cared about Noah, and, more important, she cared about herself. She liked the way Noah was with her in the bedroom. In all honesty, it was the type of physical relationship she’d been longing for. Why had she thought it was against the movement to deny her wants? And even if it was, why did she care?

  Whatever. That thinking was over. She was turned the right way now, seeing things straight. Now she just had to convince Noah that he could trust her the way she’d learned to trust him.

  CHAPTER 8

  Noah stared at his screen, reviewing the last paragraph he’d written. He’d used the word cock, twice, it seemed. Repetitive. His editor would not be happy. But there were only so many other words to use for the male genitalia, and so few sounded sexy. Dick worked. But penis? Shaft? Love-wand? No, definitely not that.

  The same was true for the female anatomy. Clit was about the only acceptable word. Whenever he tried using euphemisms—bud, nub, sex—he’d get someone bitching. Apparently using the “wrong” label substantiated the loss of a star in an online review. So he either disappointed his editor or he disappointed his fans. There was no winning.

  He read his last sentences again: My cock twitched at her entrance. I drove my cock into her, burying myself to the balls. He’d get eye rolls at the use of entrance but at least he could delete the second cock and simply say, I drove into her. He called that a compromise and moved on to his next paragraph.

  Except now he was distracted. Not only was writing sex hard—he almost laughed out loud at his own pun—but it also, on occasion, made him hard. Thinking so deeply about the act, who could blame him? Especially when he’d so recently had amazing sex. With an amazing girl. Scratch that, an amazing woman. He could still feel the snug fit of her around his dick (not cock, editor), could still hear the erotic sound of the bed knocking against the wall as he slammed into her.

  Wait, no, that was actual knocking. On his door. He glanced at the time before shutting his laptop. It was nearly ten. Jaylene was the only woman who would think of disturbing him so late at night, not that he considered it late. At least, he hoped it was Jaylene. His deadline was fast approaching, and he should be focused on the words. But Jay was a very happy distraction.

  He was grinning as he opened the door, still grinning as he took in her appearance. She wore a short denim skirt and cami—God, how his fashion vocabulary had increased since writing women’s fiction—that hugged her tits and dipped at her neckline. He could probably get a sneak peek at her breasts if she weren’t holding something in front of her cleavage. A book. She was holding a book.

  Fuck. She was holding his book.

  Did she know? She couldn’t know. It was impossible. He’d been so careful. Maybe she’d just bought a copy because the discussion over it had led to the most incredible sex—of his life, anyway. Except she was holding the mass market edition, which wasn’t available for purchase yet, which meant … well, he wasn’t sure what it meant. Had she received an early autographed copy in one of his giveaways? He’d mailed some out a couple of weeks before and though he hadn’t known her yet, he was certain he would have noted the address since he was about to move into the same area.

  And however she’d gotten it, that didn’t mean that she knew he’d written it. Or did it? Dammit, he should have come clean and told her before. Now he’d stalled long enough to make it a thing and in his experience, things were never good in the early days of a relationship.

  All these thoughts raced through his mind in a matter of seconds, so he couldn’t be sure that she read his panic, but if he didn’t say something soon, it would be obvious. He broke in with the good old standby, “Hey!”

  Should he pull her in for a kiss? He wanted to. It would be natural, but had he waited too long?

  Jaylene helped by taking over the situation. “Can I come in?” Forward women were totally awesome. God bless the feminists.

  “Of course. Come in.” As he shut the door behind her, he took a deep breath and gathered himself. If she did know, at least she’d come by to discuss it with him. If she didn’t know, then it was probably time she did. When he turned back to her, he was ready.

  So was she. “It seems we need to talk,” she said at the same time he said, “We should talk.”

  They did the obligatory awkward laugh and all he wanted to do was draw her into his arms and carry her into his bed. But there was this. Book. God.

  He scratched the back of his neck and decided to let her go first. “So. What’s with the book?” He nodded at A Woman’s Education that Jay still clutched in her hands like a shield.

  “I, uh…” She swung her hands—and the book—behind her back. “First, I need to say something. Last night, and the night before, and this morning … all of it has been amazing. Eye-opening and, uh, freeing, I suppose. I had no idea that it could be like that. That I could be like that. Thank you.”

  Was this the beginning of a break up speech? Because it sure sounded like a breakup speech. That’s totally what it was—she was breaking up with him and bringing him his own damn novel as a consolation prize. God, did he never get away from the stigmas of his job?

  Well, if it was a breakup, he might as well get his two cents in while he had the chance. “I should be thanking you. You trusted me, and that means a lot.” Now he’d made their incredible sex sound like a standard transaction between a therapist and patient. So he added, “And it’s been hot. Way hot.”

  “Way hot.” She blushed and his pants tightened.

  Then he was examining the meaning of those two words. Would she have said that if she were breaking up? Was there a “but” to follow? And if there was, why hadn’t she said it yet?

  After what seemed like an eternity, she cleared her throat. “Which brings us to this.” Out came the paperback again.

  He stared at the familiar cover, remembering how much pride he’d had when his publisher had first unveiled it. It had been his break into the literary world—a world he loved more than anything. He’d toyed with several different genres while pursuing his English major and in the years that had followed. He hadn’t even been certain writing was his future—there was editing, and being an agent as well. The erotic romance experiment happened to be the one that struck gold. He’d gotten an agent of his own, and a major book deal. Then, the public loved it. The first novel soared to the top of the charts. He’d been blown away to see his dream come true.

  He hadn’t realized there’d be so much criticism. Not just bad reviews, but criticism of him as a person. How could a man write about such scandalous acts? Was he some sort of sex-obsessed weirdo? Honestly, he was just really good at telling a story. And this one happened to be dirty.

  But because of the judgment he received on a daily basis, he’d learned to keep a low profile. Sometimes he wished he’d kept his pen name secret altogether. His family was mortified. He rarely did public appearances, and he even more rarely told non-industry people what he did for a living. Especially
people like Jay. Based on how strongly she’d reacted to the subject of the book, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t like that he wrote it. He should have told her anyway.

  Something told him she already knew.

  Nothing to do but find out. He nodded to the book in Jay’s hand. “Do you mind telling me where you got that?”

  “Um. Your closet?” She said it like a question and then corrected herself. “I mean, I got it from your closet.”

  Of all the answers he’d expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. “My closet?”

  “I’m sorry. I snooped.” Her gaze was downcast, seemingly studying his bare feet.

  “You went through my closet? Through my personal things?” All the worry he had about her reaction to his occupation dissipated as something else took over—fury. Maybe it was simply a defense mechanism acting so that he didn’t have to deal with the guilt of hiding the truth from her, but he was outraged. His privacy was important. It was crucial. It was all he had. “You had no right to do that.”

  “I know.” At least she looked anguished about it. “I know! I said I was sorry. I didn’t even mean to.”

  Sorry? He’d been betrayed and all she had was sorry? She didn’t fucking mean to? It felt like a knife had been jabbed in his gut. It was cliché, but now he understood the reason the saying existed. Because that’s what this pain felt like.

  “You can’t imagine how much this hurts, Jay.”

  She met his accusation with blazing eyes. “Probably as much as it hurts that you didn’t think you could share this with me.”

  Well, she had a point there.

  They stood in a silent stare-off as Jay ran a hand through her short hair. A million things came to his head to say—apologies, explanations, retractions. Nothing seemed right.

  It was Jay who spoke first. “Look, I know it was wrong, Noah. I do. I didn’t really mean to be snooping. I was looking for a shirt and the books were underneath and I thought they were drugs and you never told me what you do for a living, so I figured that this must be it so I sorta swiped one so I could investigate it further, and, well, yay, it’s not drugs.”