Page 58 of Judging Duke

But the positioning was awkward. Our bodies twisted. Throwing caution to the wind, I straddled him, my forearms resting on the back of the sofa, caging him in.

There was no resistance, and no hesitation, when he wrapped his arms around my back.

I flexed my hips, pressing my groin into his, smiling when I felt his hardness rubbing against my own. He wasn’t having any problems this time around.

He thrust upwards, circling his pelvis. It felt so good.

“Seems like someone can’t get enough, eh, Finn?” Troy’s voice broke the spell we were under, and I turned to look at them.

I still couldn’t feel any attraction to them. They were just too polished. I preferred a bad boy, and Simon had always been that in my eyes. To me, there was no competition.

Even watching him in the movies, he was never perfect, and I admired that in a man.

Without breaking eye contact, I climbed off Simon’s lap and took him by the hand, pulling him to stand.

“Let’s take this upstairs.”

Ignoring Troy and Finn, I led Simon to the grand staircase.

“Duke,” he said, holding back.

“What? Come on.” I wasn’t taking no for an answer and tugged at his hand.

“Duke.” He said my name again, refusing to budge. “What are we doing?”

“I thought it was obvious. Don’t you want to?”

“Of course I do. We need to be sure, though. We cross the line; there’s no going back.”

“Marc was right,” I said to no one in particular.

“Who’s Marc, and what did he say?”

“There’s a fine line between love and hate. I want to cross that line. I want you, Simon, always have done. You can’t tell me otherwise, can you?”

He looked away from me but still held my hand.

“I’ll not lie. You’ve been on my mind.” He took a step closer. “These past few months…I’ve thought of nothing but you. You’ve invaded my every thought. Hell, it’s your fault I’m suffering from performance anxiety.”

“How is that my fault?”

“Because no one is you. Don’t you get it? As much as I fucking hate you, I want you.”

By now, we were in our usual position, eye to eye and chest to chest.

He pinned me with his stare, those icy blue eyes boring into me.

“You still hate me? Well, maybe I can change your mind.” I kissed him again, my lips moving effortlessly with his. I ran my fingers through his hair, loving how soft it felt. “Upstairs?”

He nodded and, without letting go, followed me to my bedroom.

I closed the door and stood before him, no longer knowing what to do.

“What do you want?” he asked, stroking my face.

I shrugged.

“You, I guess.”

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