Mr. Judge: A Man Who Knows What He Wants

But now we’re running down the stairs, Pearce a few steps ahead of me, wearing nothing but his underwear. His ripped back muscles shift as he takes the steps two at a time, outpacing me as he runs down the hallway.

I follow a few moments later, heading straight into the living room.

Bones is perched on the back of the couch, yapping at the window, his breath clouding the glass. Hurrying over to him, I softly run my hands up and down his body, hoping he can read the soothing messages I’m doing my best to send.

“It’s okay, boy,” I whisper, tenderly rubbing my fingers up his back and over his head.

Finally, he begins to settle down, climbing from the back of the couch and settling on the couch cushions.

He tilts his head up at me as if to say, You know you’re naked, right?

I almost laugh at how surreal the situation is. I’m completely naked from what Pearce and I did upstairs, the air pricking coolly against my skin.

I continue to stroke him as we wait for Pearce. He must be outside. I heard the front door open and close a few minutes ago.

Bones remains on high alert, his tail perked, his head tilting every few moments as though listening for sounds.

“Nobody’s ever going to hurt you,” I whisper. “It was probably just the storm. It blew something into the house.”

Again that urge hits me, willing me to pump my fist in relief, to jump around the room in joy. I won a few extra minutes, an hour, to figure out what the heck I’m going to do when our lust takes over again.

Can I tell him the truth?

I can’t tell him all the truth, about my need to be with him, about the way my belly tingles as though getting ready to swell with his child.

Pearce walks into the room a few moments later, rainwater dripping down his near-naked body. His pec muscles heave as water sluices down his chest, over the surface of his abs, making every ridge glisten.

Bones leaps down from the couch and trots over, whining as he nuzzles his head against Pearce’s leg. Pearce leans down, scratching the little guy under the chin, and then he walks over to me with a grim twist to his lips.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It looks like somebody tried to throw a brick through the window.”

“Tried?”

Pearce nods, laughing gruffly. “Lowlife couldn’t even do that right. There was a message.”

I watch him carefully, my instincts sending me one clear message. When he’s half-naked like this, my body can’t help but sing out with lust, calling to him, trying to make me leap on him and wrap my legs around his hips.

Pushing it all away, I wait.

Pearce sighs. “It was carved into the brick. It bounced off the window and landed in the flowerbeds. I only found it because of the security lights. Plus there’s a crack in the window.”

“What did the message say?” I ask.

His eyes lock onto my breasts, and then flit away smirking. “This is damn distracting. Maybe we should get dressed first.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” I murmur.

Bones follows us as we walk upstairs. I nearly thank the little man for making any further sexual explosions impossible. It’s not like we’re going to devour each other with the dog watching us, right?

And yet, even so, my body is sizzling with the aftershocks of what we did. My heart is still pounding, and every inch of my skin is alight with longing.

Pearce goes to his bedroom and I go to mine, pulling on Pearce’s T-shirt and my pants from earlier today.

Bones sits in the corner of my bedroom as I get dressed, as though he trusts Pearce to protect himself but wants to keep watch over me.

“Good boy,” I say, stroking his head as we leave the room.

Pearce is waiting in the living room when we come back downstairs. While I was getting changed, he collected the brick and laid it on the coffee table, on a small towel, the fabric wet.

Bones pads over and leans forward, carefully sniffing the new object. Pearce runs a hand through his hair, the wetness giving it a ruffled look. He’s wearing a T-shirt and shorts now, doing little to conceal the sharp outlines of his well-worked muscles.

“Where’s the message?” I ask.

Pearce leans over, pointing to the bottom of the brick.

It takes me a second to take in the words on the surface of the brick. I look closer, my gaze tracing the lines. It looks like somebody used a blade to jaggedly scratch at it over and over.

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

“What does it mean?” I ask, sitting next to Pearce, his shoulder transmitting warmth to my body.

He shakes his head. “I’ve got no idea. It could be anything. As a police officer, my arrests led to dozens if not hundreds of prosecutions. As a lawyer, it was the same. And then I became a judge… It’s not exactly like any of those jobs are good for making friends.”