Jude huffed a laugh. “Why not? We can both wake up with sore backs and moral clarity.”
“That’ll definitely get them talking.”
“Right.” Heat rose to Jude’s face. “Yeah, we shouldn’t risk that.”
“No, we shouldn’t,” Warren agreed. “If it got back to the Head…”
“Exactly.” Jude gestured to the bed, suddenly very aware of its size. Or lack of it. “So, we should probably consider… sharing the bed?”
Warren nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “We shoulddefinitelyconsider it.”
“How long do you think that kind of consideration should take?”
“I’m not sure…” Warren rubbed his brow. “You’re the history buff. How long did they take to deliberate the Treaty of Versailles?”
Jude smiled, despite himself. “Seven months. Give or take.”
“Well.” Warren glanced at the bed, then back at him. “We don’t have seven months.”
“No.” Jude’s breath caught on the edges. “Just one night.”
One night to feel safe. One night beside someone who didn’t want anything from him but rest. One night to not be alone.
Warren shouldered his bag with casual ease. “Alright. In the interest of not giving the kids something to gossip about, I’ll brush my teeth and try to scrounge something vaguely respectable to sleep in. You…” he nodded towards the bed “…pick a side.”
“I usually take the left.”
Warren smirked. “Good. I’m always right.”
“So you think.”
Warren tilted his head. “I’m sure you’ll tell me when I’m not.”
Jude gave a soft laugh. “I’ll get my red pen.”
Warren kicked off his trainers, then traipsed into the bathroom, leaving Jude a moment tobreathe. There was no choice. And no real decision to make. So he climbed into the bed, sitting up against the headboard, sheets cool beneath him, heart thudding as though he was about to do something far more dangerous than share space. He felt like a virgin on a wedding night. Ridiculous. But also… not entirely wrong.
The bathroom tap ran. A toothbrush scraped gently. The muffled sounds of rustling. A muttered curse. Then the door opened, and Warren filled the frame like a statue carved into real flesh and bone in just a pair of boxers. Jude drew in a breath. God, they were snug. Tight across thick thighs and clinging tohips in a way that shouldn’t have been legal. And Warren was all muscle. Dark and smooth, skin marked here and there by old scars and a strength that wasn’t aesthetic, it waslived in. Lived through. Broad chest dusted with hair, nipples dark, shoulders wide enough to fill the space between doorframes. And his locs were down, kissing his collarbones, softening the harsh lines of his frame without taking away any of his power.
“Sorry.” Warren held out his arms in display of himself. Not with brashness. More unapologetic embarrassment. “Didn’t think about nightwear.”
Jude couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t breathe.
Could barely think.
Warren was… magnificent.
Not pretty. Not polished. But real. Solid. Towering. A force. A body built for protection, not performance. A man Jude might’ve once feared but now couldn’t stop looking at.
And for a second, Jude forgot how to lie to himself.
God, he wanted this man.
Not just the body. Though that alone was enough to wreck him. But all of him. The solidity. The warmth. The quiet way Warren looked at him as if he wasn’t fragile, butreal. As if he was worth something. He wanted to be held. Protected. Rewritten. And to forget, if only for one night, everything Callum had ever taken from him. Everything still clinging like rot on his skin. But he couldn’t. He knew that. Warren was straight and not into him, and Jude couldn’t allow himself the luxury of one night of mayhem to even try.
It wasn’t worth the risk.
