Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Maybe Jude’s afraid to ruin this moment too. He’s quiet as well, wordlessly cleaning up and sharing his body wash.
I study the bottle as I take it, recording another detail in my Jude file. The bottle is labeled Sunshine and Citrus, and the scent fits him. Using it, I wash off the evidence of sex, then spin him around, soap his shoulders, his arms, his chest, staying silent as my hands travel over his body.
He lets me, like a cat permitting several, luxurious strokes of its fur. That’s fitting too. Jude is something of a cat—in charge, demanding, beautiful. “Do you like cats?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You seem like a cat person,” I remark.
A soft laugh comes from him, but then it dies. The water patters against black tiles on the floor.
Does he plan to ask me to stay the night? My heart races too fast with worry. Maybe an hour at his place is all we need for our boyfriend theater. What if that was just sex and catharsis?
But I should ask. I don’t want to be the guy with walls forever. “Can I stay the night?”
“Yes,” he says simply.
That’s all. Nothing more to his answer or his tone.
His back is to me, and he tips his head under the water, but I can tell his eyes are closed, so I can’t read his reaction any more than his voice.
Jude clears his throat. “On one condition.”
I tense, bracing myself for whatever is coming. Knee-jerk reaction on my part, but so it goes. “Yeah?”
Opening his eyes, he turns around, determination in his expression. “Tell me why you were so adamant we come here.”
Huh. “Was I adamant?”
“You were, TJ,” he says, firm and clear. “Like you didn’t want me at your place.”
Ah, I get his tone now. He doesn’t want to leave things unsaid.
That’s good, objectively.
But it’s hard in reality.
Since that means I have to figure out why the hell I was dead set on coming here. At the time, I gave a gut response since my gut said I wasn’t ready to bring him to my apartment. Why the hell don’t I want him there? Fine, I do like being at his place. His home makes me feel good. Maybe even safe.
And there it is. I don’t feel as safe with him in my home. Now I need to dissect why.
Ugh.
This emotional shit is hard. “Gimme two minutes,” I say.
He snort-laughs. “You don’t know the answer?”
“This may shock you, but sometimes I have to think before I speak.”
Jude rolls his eyes. “Some things never change.”
As I get out of the shower, I search for the reason. I don’t stop hunting for my motivation as I return to his room, find my black boxer briefs, and tug them on.
He grabs a pair of purple ones with dragons on the waistband. Rafe Rodmans. “Hot,” I say, then I gesture to the doorway. “I’m going to grab some water.”
In the kitchen, he hands me a glass. I down some water from the tap, and I swear I can hear a clock ticking in my head.
I better find the answer soon. Something other than I’m not ready to invite you into my home.
I scan his place as if I can find the answer in his couch, his window, his kitchen.
His makeshift bookshelf.
That’s it. Books.
As I set down the glass on the counter, I walk quietly into the adjoining living room then run a finger along the spines, stopping at New York Hidden Gems.
Jude sits on the couch, waiting patiently. That’s new too—Jude being patient.
It’s a step toward me—time to take one more toward him. I turn around, meet his gaze head-on. “There’s a lot of me at my place. My books. My computer. Notebooks with ideas,” I say.
He nods a few times like he’s taking it in. “Are you afraid I’d read them?”
The word again is unsaid, but it hangs between us at the end of his question. But tonight, I don’t want to hash out what went wrong in Los Angeles, from the way I bungled telling him about my deal to the hurtful accusations he lobbed at me.
Or how I walked away, retaliating over and over by not giving him a chance to say he was sorry.
Tonight, I want to get into bed and curl up with him. Just feel him close to me as we sleep.
But I owe him answers. Pretty sure I also owe it to myself to face my own issues. “No. But my books came between us last time. There’s a ton of copies of Top-Notch Boyfriend on my shelves. My publisher in each country sends them to me, so I have a lot. I guess I didn’t want us to be surrounded by that. Not tonight. Not when I had a feeling . . .”
His lips twitch. “You had a feeling you’d seduce me?”