Mr. Judge: A Man Who Knows What He Wants

“It’s okay.” I walk over to him, waving a hand. “Go on, boy.”

He ducks his head and runs forward, loping to the end of the yard where there’s a tall tree, its branches covered in new spring leaves. My smile spreads widely, as I watch him running around the tree, snout lowered as he sniffs frantically.

There are still signs of his abuse, in the way he tucks his tail and freezes every few moments, in the way he pauses to look over at me, confirming I’m still here. I grin and wave a hand at him.

And then my mind returns to what my mom said, as it has ever since she told me. My dad is dead. She wouldn’t tell me what caused his death. After the initial conversation, she wouldn’t tell me anything else.

I wonder why Pearce’s appearance in our life prompted the confession.

Is it simply because he’s an older man?

I remember the way she looked when she explained what happened to her, skittish, unwilling to meet my eye. It was like something else was going on, as though there was another motive.

Bones yaps, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I say, laughing.

We spend the next fifteen minutes or so exploring the yard together, my thoughts forgotten for the time being.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pearce

The rain starts when I’m halfway home.

It’s soft at first, tapping against the roof of the car. But then the sky gives a rumble and it starts thundering, lightning clashing in the sky, the rain hammering the car. By the time I reach my house, it’s so heavy I can barely see a few feet in front of me.

I step from my car, rushing to the house. It doesn’t matter. I’m soaked after two steps. It’s the sort of rain that seeps through my suit, chilling my bones in a moment.

Pushing the door open, water drips from me, soaking the entranceway. I left my work bag in the car, but there’s no way back outside or walking through the house like this.

I wasn’t born rich. I appreciate how special it is to have an upscale and clean home.

I take off my suit jacket and quickly pull my shirt over my head. My hands are on my belt when my mistake hits me.

Piper lets out a gasp.

Dammit.

How the hell did she slip my mind?

It’s unbelievable, especially because she’s been in my thoughts all day.

She stands at the end of the hallway. When she arrived this morning, her shirt was buttoned up to the top, imprisoning those round and tempting breasts. Now she’s let the top button go, giving me a mouth-watering glimpse of her smooth skin. Her hair is messier, as though she’s been playing with Bones.

“I’m sorry,” she says, turning away.

But then she glances at me again. Her eyes are wide in that innocent way, as though she thinks she should look away, but I want her to look at me, see what she does to me.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say.

“It’s crazy out there,” she replies, looking at the floor.

“Worst rain I’ve ever seen.” I have to raise my voice over the endless hammering. “Where’s the little guy?”

“In his bed. I think he’s scared of the lightning. As soon as it started—”

She breaks off when the sky makes a shattering explosive sound, and then she laughs, adorably, nervously. I feel my heart rate kick up a notch.

I imagine her laughing as I strip her clothes off, but then the laughter will die, as I stroke her nipples, making them hard and needy with excitement.

“He ran straight to his bed,” she goes on. “I should tell you, I let him go to the bathroom on the patio, on the covered area. I hope that’s okay. I cleaned it all up. He just wouldn’t walk out in the rain.”

“I can’t blame him,” I say. “And yeah, it’s fine. Whatever you decide to do with him is fine. I trust you.”

Her face lights up, her cheeks coloring a tempting shade of red. It makes her look shy and excited at the same time.

“I guess I should get going,” she murmurs.

My body tightens at her words, I don’t want her to leave. I just got home. I need to spend more time with her.

Her eyes flit to me again.

Did she notice? Can she read the tension in me?

“You can’t go out in this rain,” I blurt out. “Give me a minute to change and I’ll give you a ride.”

It’s like Bones understands what we’re saying. He pads down the hallway, whining softly, barely audible over the rainfall. Walking up to Piper, he throws his head back and lets out a mournful howl.

“Woah,” Piper says. “I’ve never heard him do that before. Even when he was… when he belonged to my neighbor.”

I understand the pause. She can’t bring herself to mention what he did in any detail. Neither can I. It makes me want to bust into his cell and smash his face against the wall until he doesn’t have a face left.