"What's for dinner?" I ask, putting down my work bag and hanging my keys on the hook by the front door. As I walk into the living room, I see our friend Gray lounging on the couch in his usual torn jeans and faded rock band t-shirt. "Oh, hey, Gray. Where's Jude?"
"Getting dinner ready." He grins up at me, taking in the sight of my maroon scrubs and messy bun. I slide my glasses down on my nose to give him a pointed look, though inside I'm smiling. I head to the kitchen to fix myself a drink, and to my surprise, the room is empty.
"I thought you said Jude was getting dinner ready," I call out. Hands grab me by the waist from behind, and I jump about a foot in the air, nearly dropping the bottle of moscato.
Gray presses his mouth against my ear and whispers, "He is. He's in the bedroom." Reaching around me, he grabs the bottle of wine, then moves away from me. "Bring three glasses." Then he's gone, and I'm left standing in the kitchen in confusion.
I grab three wine glasses from the cabinet and head off to the master bedroom to find out what the boys are up to this time. As I step through the door, I breathe in the sultry fragrance of lavender and vanilla--my favorite scented candle burns on top of the dresser, the flickering flame casting faint shadows on the walls. Slow jazz music, turned down low, drifts out from the bluetooth speaker on the bedside table.
Jude stands by the bed, a tempting smirk dancing on his lips. His muscular tattooed arms cross over his chest as he gives me a thorough once-over. "What are you doing still dressed, babygirl?"
Gray steps up behind him, an arm casually draping over Jude's shoulder, and I look between them, one eyebrow lifting. "I thought you were getting dinner ready." I put down the glasses beside the bottle of wine.
"I am." Jude gestures to the bed, and I realize there's a black silk-and-lace nightgown spread out over the quilt. "Go ahead. We'll give you a minute."
The boys leave the room, and I hurry out of my work clothes, sliding on the silky dress. It's short, barely covering anything--and I know that's exactly why he chose it. A quick tug on the hair tie and my bun unravels, long hair tumbling down past my shoulders.
They seem to sense I'm ready, because they come back in, looking proud as peacocks. Jude walks up to me and slides his arms around my waist, pulling me in tight for a kiss that leaves me breathless. He leans back and studies my face for a moment, then murmurs, "You ready to be eaten?"
My gaze slides sideways to see Gray standing behind him, that same cat-got-the-canary grin on his full lips. "Is this a dinner party?" I ask, feeling my own lips curl into a grin.
In the next moment, my back hits the mattress, even before I register that Jude has pushed me backward onto the bed. He follows me, crawling over my body to straddle my hips, dipping down for another kiss. His teeth catch my lower lip and tug, and I can't stifle the little moan that works its way out of me.
I feel the bed shift beneath me; Gray has joined us, stretching out beside me. I turn my head toward him, and he captures my lips with his own, thoroughly exploring my mouth with his tongue. Meanwhile, Jude's hands have started working their magic. He begins at my shoulders and drags his fingertips down until he reaches my breasts, pinching my nipples through the thin fabric. That makes me whimper, and Jude chuckles. He pulls up the little nightgown, sucking one nipple into his mouth.
Gray runs his fingers through my hair, and I can barely form a coherent thought as his grip tightens, pulling my head back away from his mouth. Sitting up, he bends over and attacks the other breast, biting into my sensitive flesh. My back arches off the bed, hips riding to collide against Jude's, who flicks his tongue against my nipple as I writhe beneath him.
