Page 196 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
That’s an excellent idea.
23
PING-PONG TABLE SWORD FIGHTING
Jude
This suite isthe shit. Plush living room, a fully stocked bar, and a bathroom the size of my New York apartment. Plus, the shower is tops.
TJ and I get clean together, washing off the flight. Once we’re dry, he tugs on basketball shorts, and I pull on black boxer briefs with banana illustrations on them. We head to the living room, where he tells me he’s making a reservation at a sushi place for Saturday night.
He holds up his phone. A mouth-watering piece of mackerel sashays across the screen. “This place in The Extravagant has private rooms, so I’m going to book one. Jason will be here. Luke, too, from the Leopards. And Christian Laird is also here for the concert. You cool with him joining us?”
So much cooler than I was a week ago. “Sounds like a who’s who of queer sports stars and actors.”
He laughs. “Pretty much.”
“Sounds like my kind of dinner party. And Christian is perfectly fine. Anyone but the Man’s Man is welcome,” I say as Ipad over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, checking out the bright lights of the city spread out below us, an invitation to revel in the night.
I plan to, Vegas.
“Done. I made the reservation and texted the guys,” TJ announces. I turn from the window as he sets his mobile on the bar, then grabs a bottle of champagne and pours.
I meet him in the middle of the living room, in front of the couch, where he hands me a flute. “To your absolution,” he says.
I give him a crooked grin. “And it’ll be more than... lip service.”
“It better be a full-service lip service,” he says.
As he swallows some champagne, I stare, watching his Adam’s apple move. I never imagined taking a drink could be so sexy or that it was possible to be this attracted to someone. It’s a little terrifying towantso intensely. The closer I get to him physically, the closer I feel emotionally. I worry about us going too fast and imploding before the job is done.
Beforethe final week.
But I can’t seem to find the will to slow down. I drink some of the bubbly then set it down on the coffee table as we sink onto the couch together. TJ stretches an arm around me, tracing lazy, luscious lines on my shoulder. “You know that ping-pong scene I worked on today?”
Wherever his question is leading, it sounds like someplace I want to be. “I knowofit,” I tease.
“It wasn’t just a friend scene,” he says.
I sense he’s offering me a bit of himself that he’s guarded until now, and my ears perk up. “What was it?”
“Their first sexy scene.” He reaches for my hips, pulls me onto his lap.
Opening up about his story gives me a double boner—I’ve got a brain one and a dick one. The latter’s getting bigger as I straddle him. “And what did your guys do?”
His hand coasts up my back. “Your favorite thing,” he whispers.
I grind my dick against his hard-on.
His dirty smile saysyou know it.
I have so many questions about what he wrote, but top among them is his tunnel vision. “Wait—is that what you were doing on the flight?”
“It was.” He sounds devilishly pleased.
“You mean while I was reading my script, then listening to a memoir, then snoozing for a bit, you were writing hot dick-on-dick action right next to me on the flight?”
“Spoiler alert—they both got off at the end,” he stage-whispers, the cheeky bastard.