Page 91 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

“We text from time to time. William’s afriend, Jude,” TJ says, emphasizing that last word like he wants to impress this key detail on me. “He’s only a friend.”

And I’ve gathered all the necessary intel. TJ’s still into me. And I’m so fucking into him. So much that I want to get to his room, unlock him with touch, and break down his walls.

“Good,” I say, and it feels like the most honest thing I’ve told TJ all night. “That’s really good.”

He runs his finger along the base of his glass, looking at me the whole time, his gaze darkening. “Jude?”

Hope rises in me, as well as desire. “Yes?”

“I don’t want to talk about William,” he says, and he sounds just like he did that night in London when it rained hard and he kissed me on the street in the storm.

I seize the chance, reach for his hand on the table, cover it with mine, then ask him a leading question. “What do you want to talk about?”

32

THE GOOD TIMES ZONE

TJ

It’s hard to think when Jude touches me, and I’m pretty sure he just asked me a question.

What do I want to talk about? I want both to talk and to stop all this talking. I want to rip off this mask and keep wearing it too.

I want to sayYoumake me feel so good and I can’t even explain it. I can’t even rationalize it. Except, I picked champagne because that’s how I feel every time I’m with you.

Trouble is, I don’t know what Jude wants from me beyond his text earlier tonight—that he wants to get laid. I don’t truly know if he wants me the same way I want him.

But the last person in the world I want to experience an ounce of rejection with is Jude since he’s never hurt me, and I like it this way. We only ever make each other feel good.

That’s the zone I want to stay in. Thegood-timeszone.

I keep things firmly centered on him when I glance at his empty champagne glass, then answer his question at last. “You. I want to talk about you. Do you want another drink?”

“Do you think I want another drink?” he counters.

I look at his hand on mine, and it’s proof. “No. I don’t think you do.”

“A drink isn’t what I came for, TJ.” He slides the pad of his thumb slowly, ever so slowly, between my thumb and forefinger. This should not be so erotic, but the burn in his eyes and the ownership in his touch heats me up.

I turn my hand over, curl my fingers through his, cataloging this moment, how it feels to touch him again. It feels incredible. “I didn’t come for a drink either. Want to get out of here?”

His smile is slow and dirty. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The hotel room is very Santa Monica. An orange wall. A teal-blue bedspread. A glass brick wall separating the bathroom from the rest.

But it’s too quiet, and that’s no good for setting the mood. I borrow a move from Hudson, the hero inMister Benefits, who always had a playlist before sex.

“Let me put on some tunes.” I hit the playlist I made an hour ago, then set my phone on the desk. Like one of my heroes, I grab the collar of Jude’s shirt as a sexy number plays, but I don’t make a move yet to kiss him.

I want to take my time.

Savor every single second of the anticipation.

Let the years melt away in our gazes then drive him wild with my lips, and my?—

Thump!

With a quickness I didn’t see coming, Jude’s grabbed my shoulders and slammed me against the wall. His hands spear into my hair, and he seals those lush lips to mine.