Page 166 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

“You did. But this shirtless look is even better.” I peer around him, catching a glimpse in the mirror of the gorgeous man straddling me.

I want to linger in this moment. Record it somehow. I lift a hand slowly, slide my thumb along his jaw. “You like this? Being on me right now?”

He shoots me a quizzical look. “Yes. Obviously. Why?”

“Because I could see you in one of my books. Looking down at the other hero, like you’re doing this second,” I say plainly.

There’s no seduction in my voice, just an admission of how this moment is hitting me—like an intimate after-dark scene when they speak with touch. I trace his face with my fingers, memorizing what I’ve already committed to heart.

Him.

“Good. Then use it in a story,” he whispers, a tiny smile on his lips as he dips his face to mine, dusts a sensual kiss across my eyelids.

“It’s practically writing itself,” I murmur.

“But I bet we’d be naked if this were one of your books.”

I laugh, then we get out of bed in a flurry. It’d be faster for me to take off my own pants. Same for him. But instead, our hands grab at each other. I want to comment on how much I’ve missed this contact. But I don’t want to ruin tonight with sappy words.

I stay in the sex zone, in the frenzied rush of fingers over buttons, thumbs on zippers, palms pushing down the fabric.

I’m vibrating as he shoves off my pants and grabs at my boxer briefs, his greedy fingers jerking them down my legs.

My dick springs free, standing at attention.

His throat rumbles as he stares at me. But there’s no time to linger. I practically rip off his clothes. Naked at last, we crash into each other, skin against skin, cock against cock. We tumble onto the bed, Jude on top of me again.

Like the first time we fucked.

No idea how we’re screwing tonight, but I know this—he’ll decide. He’ll tell me. And I’ll give it to him however he wants. But first, his eager hands roam on my cock. My hips jerk into his palm as he grips me.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he murmurs, then slides down between my legs. “But I missed your dick a lot.”

A savage groan rips from my chest as I push his head closer to my cock. “Pretty sure I’m taking that the right way,” I say, then I grunt when he swallows me.

Jesus.

Fuck.

It’s so good.

His mouth surrounds my shaft, and I am lost in the dirty heaven of Jude. He flicks his tongue along my length as he hauls me deep. Pleasure crackles down my thighs. The build-up is insane and immediate. In seconds, I’m groaning, but I’m keenly aware that I don’t want to shoot into his mouth. I want to bury my cock in his body. Fill him all the way up so he can’t feel anything else but me stretching him.

But if he sucks me like this, I’ll come in seconds.

I pull him off. His lips are swollen, even more so when he pouts. “But it’s my favorite,” he says.

“I know, baby. Me too. But I’ve got to get inside you. Please,” I say, begging him. I want him that much.

His eyes glint with wicked intent, and he crawls across the bed to the nightstand, hunts for lube, a condom, and a hand towel, then flops to his back.

“Get me ready. You know what I like,” he commands.

Bossy Jude.

I like Bossy Jude.

Parking his hands behind his head, he plants his feet on the bed, knees up.