His Dirty Author: An Age Gap Romance

“You’re not a yo-yo,” he says. “You’ve never been a yo-yo.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

His lips are against my cheek. “I’m here because you fixed me. I finished the book. And I know that I fucked up, but I’m hoping you’ll hear me out. Because you’re amazing, and that entire phone call was a mistake.”

I’m not breathing. His words were dripping with sincerity. Of course that’s exactly what I wanted to hear him say. But it’s early in the morning. Maybe this whole thing is a fever dream because I’m still hurting and still desperate for this to happen.

The real Malik is probably still at home asleep and not even thinking about me. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I.”

“No,” he says. “You are fucking amazing. Special and talented and I want to help you get published. More than that. I want to be with you. Help you. We can get a better agent together. There’s no agency in this city that wouldn’t take me, and I’ll make sure that we’re a package deal.”

Okay, wait. My brain grinds to a stop. “Hold on. What are you saying? What’s wrong with Michael?”

He pulls me away from the doormat but doesn’t let me out of his arms. I manage to flick on a lamp on the way to the couch, and when the light hits his face, it’s clear that Malik is just as exhausted as I’ve been these past few days. But there’s fire and drive in his eyes that I can’t ignore. “Malik?”

“A couple of days ago, before I called you, Michael wanted me to come down to his office and check in about how it was working out with you. And he didn’t want to do it over email just in case.”

“Okay.”

Hands run up and down my arms like he can’t stop touching me. I don’t mind. Even if I have to ask him to stop after he finishes telling me whatever this is, I’m weak, and I’m going to enjoy it after being starved of it for the last couple of days.

“I asked him why you weren’t published, because I swear to God, Erin, there’s no reason that you’re not. You’re so much better than I was when I first started. And—” He cuts off, and I don’t think that I’ve ever seen him so angry. “Michael made it abundantly clear that the reason you’re not published has nothing to do with your writing.”

I gasp. “What?”

“He said that you weren’t desperate enough yet. And until you were desperate enough to either blow him or let him fuck you, you were never going to be published.”

Shock rolls through me. “He actually said that?”

“Believe me, I wish that he hadn’t. He also made it clear that part of the reason he sent you to me was because he thought I’d want to fuck you too. And I swear, that was not a part of the reason everything happened between us.”

“I know,” I say, smiling. “You’re not a good enough actor to pretend you were that angry on that first day, if that was your goal all along.”

He smiles at that too. “My lawyer and my editor are working on a solution to get Michael the hell out of the way and for him to have no part in the earnings of the book. As soon as that’s confirmed—hopefully tomorrow. Or rather, today after the sun comes up—I’ll have all the ammunition that I need to fire him. You should too.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” I mutter.

“Your book is amazing,” he says. “I read it in one sitting, and it unlocked something in my brain that I was afraid wasn’t there anymore. After that, the words just kept pouring out and I couldn’t stop.”

“Have you slept?” I ask.

“No, but I had to see you and tell you everything. Because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I want to figure this out together. I was so taken aback by everything—I didn’t want to be a part of holding back or sabotaging your career. Firing you was the only way that I could see to do that.”

I lean forward, resting my head on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you just tell me all of this? You didn’t think that I would understand?”

“I…don’t know,” he admits. “I was just horrified. And I wanted you to be separated from that and me and anything that could potentially keep you in my shadow as fast as possible. And I probably wouldn’t have realized what an idiot I was being if I hadn’t talked to someone. And then read your book right after.”

“Who did you talk to?”

“My dad,” he smiles softly. “I know that when you asked about him, I was abrupt, and I’m not ready to talk about that on so little sleep, but I promise I will tell you.”