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The blue haze of the TV casts shadows over the bedroom wall, but I don’t know what’s on the screen. I’m too focused on shirtless Jude leaning against the headboard. 

He shifts, his tattoo-covered biceps bulging when he grabs the bottle of tequila he took from the bar and turns it up. My gaze traces the intricate inkwork, hating the fact that it looks so good on him. I stop at the crucifix on his shoulder and snort. “Sure as hell need Jesus,” I mumble under my breath. 

He takes another slow sip, his attention moving from the television to me. “Do you just like to hear yourself talk?”

“Do you just like to get shit, meaningless tattoos?” 

“A guy like me doesn’t get them for the meaning.” A slow smirk works  

Wrong Kind of Love: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance

over his bad boy face as he sweeps a palm over his solid chest. 

Warmth touches my cheeks as my gaze follows the movement of his hand. “You look like a criminal.” I glance at the TV. “I prefer my men a little more clean cut.” It’s such a lie. He looks like he would make me scream his name and beg him for more. The thought has me shifting on the bed as heat trickles through me. I hate him. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I am a criminal.”

“If I have to stay in your room, could you at least put a shirt on. I don’t want to look at that.” I do, I really do. 

“Then don’t fucking look at it.”

“Fine.” I snatch his tequila just to be annoying, then crawl off the bed and stalk toward the door. Benefits of being a semi-free captive–I don’t have to stay here. 

The TV cuts off, plunging the room into darkness. “Where are you going?”

“Caleb’s room. He keeps his clothes on.” And I don’t have the stupid urge to peel them off. 

I hear Jude’s heavy footsteps moments before he latches onto my arm and spins me to face him. There’s just enough light coming in through the window that I catch his gaze drop to my lips. “You’re not sleeping in my brother’s bed.” 

While there’s part of me that wants no part of him, there’s a larger part of me that craves his jealousy and possession. “Why?” 

He takes a step. “Because I fucking said so.” 

His hard body presses to mine like a furnace, and I’m instantly burning up, imagining him naked and crushing me into the mattress. This captivity bullshit is screwing with my head. Because I shouldn’t want this, but when in hell, I might as well dance with the demons. I push on my tiptoes until my lips brush his. “You sound–”

His mouth slams over mine, hard and brutal, cutting off my words as he grips my hips. My thighs instinctively wrap around his waists as a storm crackles to life between us. The hard length of him presses between my thighs, and I fight a moan.

“I sound what, Tor?” 

“Jealous,” I breathe.

He sinks his teeth into my bottom lip. “Cute.” Then he tosses me onto his crumpled sheets. 

Moonlight cuts over his massive form, painting him in silvery shadows. He’s beautiful and dangerous, like a shot of adrenaline straight into my vanilla life. 

“Why are you looking at me like you wanna fuck me, Tor?”

Because I do. I can’t even deny it, but I also can’t admit it. 

“I thought you only liked clean-cut pussies,” he says as he leans over me, skimming his nose along my neck. “Or were you lying? Does the whole criminal thing get you wet? I bet that little clean-cut shit you dated didn’t even make you come, did he?” 

Sometimes. Rarely. I’ve lost count of the number of times I had to slip off to the bathroom and make myself come. But I told myself it didn’t matter. That sex isn’t important when everything else is so good. Only everything else wasn’t good.

The weight of his body lowering over mine, the feel of his hands gliding up my thighs, it feels too good–he feels too good. 

Jude’s teeth sink into my shoulder. “You want me to show you what it’s like to really come, Tor?” His warm finger skims the edge of my underwear. 

I shouldn’t be inviting this, but I’m helpless against it. I need it. Grabbing onto his back, I pull him a little closer. “Please.”

I think I’m losing my mind when I let my thighs fall open and allow him to slip his hand inside my underwear. My back bows when he swipes his thick finger over me. 

“Fuck me at this wet pussy.” 

If he could see my face right now, it would be red.  

“Did he get you this wet?” He bites my neck again. “Huh, Tor?” 

I don’t think anyone could ever get me this wet. Jude teases my entrance. Back and forth, every once in a while, pretending like he’ll sink his fingers inside, but he never does. 

I’m seconds away from forcing them in when his torturous movements halt. 

“You want it, doll?” he asks. And before I can respond, he shoves his fingers inside me.

My nails dig into his muscular back on a hard gasp. 

“So wet.” He pushes in deeper, hitting a spot that has me moaning and arching from the bed. “And tight,” he says, sucking in a breath as his thumb circles my swollen clit.  “And so damn innocent.” 

Within seconds, he has me on the edge. 

“How bad do you wanna come?” He bites my nipple through my shirt, then stops.

“Please, Jude.” My hips shift, grinding against his hand, chasing something only he can give. 

“That’s right.” He presses down on my clit. “Beg me for it.”

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