Chasing Serenity (River Rain 1)

He started moving.

Toward me.

And he did it talking about things I did not want to hear.

“I think I’ve replayed that kiss at Duncan’s party a hundred times.”

Only a hundred?

Goodness me, I had him beat by a mile.

I pivoted from a position with my back to the fridge and retreated.

Though I picked my direction poorly as I headed into the kitchen, which was another dead end. I had an out on the opposite side of the island. However, Judge noted that and shifted swiftly, cutting off that path of escape.

Alcove it was, damn it.

“Just to warn you,” he started, “all I can do is be me. So as much as I’d be keen to give you everything you want if it’s in my power to give, being mildly nice with dickish tendencies to your friends is not in my power to give.”

During this speech, I’d been forced to stop due to me running into the kitchen sink.

Judge stopped due to him being in my space, and then he got more into it when he leaned in and put his hands on the counter on either side of me.

“You’re almost short without your heels,” he murmured, attention on my lips.

“I’m well above average height, I only seem short because you’re well above average too.”

His gaze lifted to mine.

And Lord help me, the look in that chocolate brown?

Damn.

“I’m only six four.”

“That’s tall.”

“You gonna shut up so I can kiss you?”

Oh God!

“No.”

He leaned closer.

I arched back over the sink.

He stopped leaning and started talking again.

“Okay, see, only fair I tell you how this is gonna go,” he declared.

Then without hesitation, if you can believe, the man launched into telling me how this was going to go.

“Now, we got a project to iron out. Also, you and me, we got a heart-to-heart to have so I’ll get why you’ve dedicated yourself to holding back when I know you want to give us a go.”

Give us a go.

Us a go.

Yes.

Damn.

“I want nothing of the sort,” I fibbed.

His face dipped to mine. “You opening your mouth, baby, the second I kissed you, tells a different story.”

I used the lame excuse I was personally clinging to.

“It was New Year’s.”

“Bullshit.”

“Judge,” I whispered.

“Chloe,” he replied, and dear Lord.

My name sounded amazing coming out of his mouth.

His eyes changed.

Turned-on, sexy hotness gone, they darkened with what, I didn’t know.

I’d find out immediately.

It was fierceness.

And steely determination.

“I know you’re going through some shit and I’m on record right now telling you I do not just want to get in your pants, Chloe. Make no mistake, that is one hundred percent something I want eventually, but I want more to be a person who’s there for you, and while I’m doing it, get to know you. I’ve never met a woman like you. I thought I had, but you are unlike any woman I’ve ever encountered. Hell, any person. You’re smart as fuck, funny as hell, uppity in a way I feel in my dick, you’re full of love and compassion, you clearly don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about you, and I fucking love the way you dress. So, I’m meeting your friends and we’re gonna cook, then go out and drink, and generally have a good time tonight. You let me, I’ll take horning in on your brunch tomorrow too. But after that, tomorrow afternoon, before I gotta get back to my house and my dog, we’re ironing things out. Because the next time we’re together, and that’s gonna be soon, honey, it’s gonna officially be a date. During that date you’re gonna share about you, and whatever comes after that will be whatever it is.”

“You have a dog?” I asked.

He closed his eyes.

I did not understand that reaction.

When he opened his eyes, my breath was stolen at the new look in them.

“Yeah, doll, I have a dog,” he confirmed.

I didn’t want to ask.

But I asked.

“Why do you look…the way you look?”

“Because in all that, you pulled out my dog. You didn’t preen about the compliments or make excuses about why we can’t go there or give me shit for laying my heart out…”

He’d laid out his heart?

Oh God.

He kinda did (in the sense that he really did).

“…you asked about me, my dog. And I’m looking forward to you getting to know me too.”

I said nothing.

“You in with this plan?” he prompted.

I pressed my lips together.

His hitched.

“Chloe, I know you turn yourself out in spectacular ways, probably on an everyday basis. But no woman has her friends over to cook in her kitchen and does her hair in a way that a man is gonna obsess the entire time he’s around her about how bad he wants to dig his hands in there and make it all come tumbling down.”

I disregarded how that pronouncement affected my nipples, squinted my eyes and lied, “I did not do my hair like this for you, Judge. I just threw it up. It’s a messy bun. It takes no time at all.”