Page 164 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

I’m a heel.

I’ve officially overreacted.

My heart lurches toward Jude. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I thought you were. I’m sorry I’ve been an ass about it,” I say, and I hope he believes me. “I’ve been such a wreck.”

He drags a hand through his hair, tousling it. It’s a good look. Sexy and annoyed and devastating. “How could I be involved with him, TJ? How could I be involved with anyone? I was hung up on you.”

What?

There’s no way he said that. No way at all. “What do you mean?” I whisper, swallowing roughly, hope knotting my throat.

From his spot a few feet away, he crosses his arms. “I was a mess about you, TJ. I haven’t been with anyone since we split.”

Those words are my kindling. They fan all my flames. I dart out a hand, grab the open V of his shirt, yank the man close to me. “I’ve been completely fucked up over you.”

Jude doesn’t smile.

He doesn’t give me a come-hither look. He just hisses out, “Join the club.”

So I do.

14

DON’T TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY

TJ

The second our lips touch, sparks fly everywhere, like a blowtorch. The air sizzles between us, crackling and snapping as I devour Jude’s mouth in the most intense, passionate kiss this city has ever known.

It’s explosive, a collision of emotions, want, and pain. We pour nearly a year’s worth of anguish into each other. That’s a lot to ask of a kiss, but this one delivers.

With every flick of my tongue, I try to repair the hurt. As I devour his mouth, I want to show Jude he’s the only guy Ieverthink of. Jude crushes his lips to mine, telling me things too—that he meant every word he said tonight.

I finally, fucking finally, believe him about William.

It’s not because of the texts he showed me.

It’s not because of the things he said.

It’s not even because of the way we slam into each other.

It’s because I’m making a choice. Trust is a choice, and I choose to trust Jude. This is the only way to move on, and now we’re moving together with our bodies. I can’t get close enoughto him, but I have to try. I grind my dick against his, our hard lengths rubbing through all our clothes.

I’m so wired. Every nerve in my body is firing. And I don’t want to pump the brakes, but with my last ounce of willpower, I pause the kiss. I’m not done with my confessions. “I wanted to take you to Amsterdam with me,” I admit, gravel in my voice, almost like it hurts to say that.

“I fucking wanted to go,” he says, his voice the same.

“Dammit, Jude. I was going to ask you to meet me there. To spend the weekend with you. To do this,” I say, then press another hungry kiss to his lips. I’m making up for missing our European trip.

He groans, letting his head fall back, inviting me to explore his jaw, his chin, his neck. “I’d have said yes,” he rasps out as I coast my mouth along his throat.

His pulse throbs.

For me.

My entire body aches.

For him.