Page 185 of Dirty Like Dylan

I’d been stealthily avoiding Jude since the night of Jesse and Katie’s wedding like ten months ago. The night we’d secretly fucked.

I was pretty sure he’d been avoiding me, too. Though probably for different reasons.

The only time I’d seen him since, I was in the middle of a threesome at a Sinner’s party, with Taze and one of his friends. I’d brought Jessa to that party, and Brody, Jude and Jude’s brother, Piper, had come to take her home. Which was fine. Their prerogative.

What wasn’t fine was Jude sticking around afterwards to be a douchebag.

“You mean,” I said, unflinching, “since you strolled right on into my private affairs?”

“Door was open,” he said, equally unflinching. “Didn’t think I had to knock.”

He didn’t knock. He’d walked right in and stood there, staring at me until I’d pushed both guys off, grabbed my clothes and stalked out.

“And you figured interrupting the sex we were having was totally cool.”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, deadpan. Then his molten-dark, hellfire eyes, which had been locked on my lips, met mine.

“Right.” I kept my response short. I was starting to come unhinged by his closeness. By his sexy alpha male smell. I was millimeters from telling him to go fuck himself, actually, but I really didn’t want to play my hand. I didn’t want him to know how much he could get to me, and how fucking fast.

How much he’d gotten under my skin.

Then. Now.

Always.

“The Sinners are bad dudes, V,” he said, and his voice was almost… soft.

“Mm-hmm. Wouldn’t they say the same about you?”

He blinked, slowly, and kept staring at me. “You saying I’m a bad dude?”

“I’m saying whomever I screw is none of your concern.” Those felt like decent parting words, a thinly veiled Fuck you, so I started to step around him to leave. But then I stopped.

Because sometimes I just couldn’t resist playing with fire.

Jude’s fire.

“Why would you even care if I’m dating a bad dude?” I asked him.

He was still staring at me, that same impassive expression on his face, but his eyes were smoldering like fucking brimstone. “I wouldn’t want to see anything bad happen to you, Roni.”

I leaned in close to him, really fucking close, and said, “Then don’t look.”

When I drew back, his dark gaze left my face and trailed down my body, slowly and deliberately, drinking in every curve. Then he said, “Hard not to.”

I turned on my heel and headed for the door.

Fuck. Him.

Jude Grayson did not get to look at me like that, when he had no intention of following up that look with anything. When he had no intention of being with me, of being mine, of wasting his precious time on me.

Because apparently, I was beneath him.

And yet he still felt the right to butt into my personal business and try to make me feel like a fucking whore.

As if he had any right to judge who I fucked.

The man wasn’t exactly a virgin himself.

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