Chapter 8 Judge
Judge
I’ve learned to wake up at the drop of a needle thanks to this life. Especially now, when anything could happen, I try to be prepared wherever I am.
So, when I hear Penelope’s soft whimper, my eyes are open, and my heart is going at it, preparing me for anything. Sitting up, my back throbs, aching in protest from sleeping on the floor. Ignoring the ache, my next breath sticks in my lungs.
The young woman is muttering things in her sleep, her eyes moving around behind her closed lids.
Just like me, she’s haunted by things in her past. Raven had muttered her concerns of nightmares before, but Penelope said the same thing about her sister. Neither has admitted how often they come.
Reaching for her, I hesitate before touching her arm. Keeping my fingertips from pressing too close, I lean toward her. “Penelope?”
I already know what she’s dreaming about, what’s haunting her. I hate it, I hate that I can’t protect her from it. Hate that I can’t absorb her pain and just take on everything by myself. I’m strong, I’ve been through it all.
Instead, I only did what I know best.
If I told her the truth, that I had Ghost track the bastard down with Raven’s help, took Ripper with me to make a visit, and had Grim clean up the aftermath of my anger, her nightmares would be full of me instead of him.
I don’t want her to see me as a monster.
Whispering her name again, trying not to startle her, I squeeze her arm when my light touch isn’t working.
Her eyes open, and after a few seconds, she realizes it’s just me. Instantly, she relaxes. Her brows pinch together, and instead of pulling away, she’s reaching for me when I try to give her space.
“Will you…” Her voice shakes as her eyes pinch close. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”
There’s no time to think about what I should or shouldn’t do. All she has to do is breathe the words, and I’m crawling onto the bed with her. Already knowing just how much room I’ll take, she’s curling against me like she doesn’t mind.
Hiding away from the world by stuffing her face into my chest, her breath tickles my throat. Shaky and uneven.
If she leans any closer, she’ll hear how hard my heart is working overtime.
Closing my eyes, I try to calm the war brewing between my heart and my head now that I’m settled. I try to enjoy a moment of weakness. Having an arm wrapped around her feels like a dream come true.
Stroking her hair, it’s the softest thing I’ve ever touched. Smells just like the shampoo we keep stocked up, but there’s something different about it when it’s clinging to her. Smells good. I want every breath that fills my lungs to be full of her.
She doesn’t take long to settle down, melting in my arms. Pressing her face forward, her breathing steadies back into an even rhythm.
How long am I allowed to touch her like this? One more minute. No, maybe, two.
Telling myself that I’ll move away the moment she starts stirring awake, I don’t budge despite the seconds passing by. I’ll stay alert, even if it’s at the cost of my sleep.
Yet, the longer I soak in her heat, the more she snuggles into me, the heavier my eyelids feel. Letting them fall just once, simply to let them rest, is my biggest mistake. I’m out, just as quickly as she is.
What I wake up to is a warmth I gave up years ago. A heat only one thing can replicate. And it’s when that heat stiffens up that I realize there’s a problem. A big fucking problem.
A small gasp leaves her lips, and I don’t have to ask what’s wrong. I can feel the flutter of her heart against my fingertips.
Her back is pressed to my chest, her hair spread in black waves across my numb arm. Our legs, entangled. My hand rests so comfortably against her chest. Not against the front of her shirt, but beneath.
My previous fears almost seem laughable now. No, this is far more horrifying. The only way I can save this is to just fucking cut my hand off.
I don’t move, because how can I? She doesn’t move, either. Probably stricken with fear. I’m in the same state.
My fingers immediately uncurl around her breast, forcing me to realize how well she fits against my palm. Giving myself away as being awake, my lungs burn, demanding I breathe.
Say something, Dumbass.
“I didn’t mean to.” Forcing the words out, I realize my hand is still there. Cursing under my breath, I pull away. “Fuck, Pen. I mean it. I—”
“It’s okay.” The words come out soft, but she turns her head toward my arm, hiding her face away. I don’t feel any tears soaking my skin, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t upset.
“Pen, look at me. Please, let me apologize.” Pleading with her, I can’t help but let desperation slip through the cracks.
I don’t want her to see me as someone who just does whatever he pleases. Someone who would take advantage. I’m not that kind of man. I’m not a monster.
A shiver wracks through her, and she does as I ask, turning her head to look at me.
Instead of tear-filled eyes, I’m met with red cheeks that look hot to the touch. Before I can try to digest this kind of expression, she’s pulling away to sit up. Instead of running away, she turns to look at me.
There’s a lump the size of my fist sitting in the back of my throat, making it hard to swallow.
Penelope, in the morning light, is a living sculpture.
The delicate shell of her ear, the graceful line of her neck, the artless fall of her hair—it’s a composition that demands reverence.
I feel like a trespasser in a sacred gallery, guilty and grateful, knowing I should pay a fortune to simply look at her like this.
Such a conflicted expression is on her face. Staring down at me, I can only imagine the thoughts rolling around her head. “Can I… touch you back?”
So soft, so nervous, the words don’t match up.
Yet, I nod without thinking. If she wants to touch my wound, then so be it. Even if it hurts, I’ll let her memorize every curve, every dip, every scar. Whatever it takes to make her forgive me.
I’m caught off guard when she cups my cheek. Hesitant, her fingers graze my beard. This isn’t an equal trade whatsoever, and I want to tell her that, but the words dry up on my tongue when her thumb touches my mouth.
“I had a really good dream…” She stares at my mouth, unblinking. “It left me feeling weird, Judge.”
My mouth parts as her thumb traces my bottom lip. Despite being so shy, something keeps her focused.
“What did you dream about?” The question comes out as a rasp. I don’t even recognize my voice.
She bites her lip like she wants to contain the details. Pulling her hand away, the disappointment lasts all of two seconds until her hair tickles my ears as she leans over me. “Bad things.”
The way she shivers, I think our definitions of bad are far different. Bad isn’t usually described as a good dream.
Moving to sit up, I grunt when she stops me. “You grabbed my boob, Samuel. I’m not… I want to touch you more.”
All the blood rushes straight to my cock. I grunt as her fingers go back to stroking my cheeks. “You know I hate that name.”
Penelope chews her lip as she hesitates. “Ripper told me you liked it the last time I accidentally said it.”
That cruel bastard. So much for trust and secrets.
“I don’t want others using it.” Closing my eyes, I save myself from her stare. At this rate, I’m going to plunge my fingers into her hair and pull her down. That can’t happen. “They’ll think it’s okay.”
“Then… how about I say it when it’s just us?” She asks it so sweetly, so innocently, there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to tell her no.
It doesn’t hurt that I do enjoy how it sounds from her lips.
“When it’s just us.” Agreeing hoarsely, I try to clear my throat, but it feels impossible when she’s this close.
She inhales slowly, debating her next words. Taking in my face, a groan forms in the back of my throat as she swipes her tongue across her bottom lip. “Can I do something else when it’s just us?”
Whatever she’s thinking, I can already tell it’s bad. I need to be the responsible one. First, apologize like I know how to use my tongue. Then, put distance between us.
There’s a reason I try my damned hardest not to touch her. Can’t think too much when I do.
Say no.
“I want to kiss you.” The request leaves her softly, and I think my ears heard wrong. But then she grimaces at her own words, the next ones coming out more unsure. “I think that will cancel out what you did.”
Always letting her do what she wants is clashing with the man who wants to do what’s best for her. I struggle to think of a reply, and to believe that I’m actually awake.
This could just be a dream. Or, even better, maybe I’ve died. Both are far more believable than the younger woman wanting to kiss me.
“Okay.” The word leaves me, instead of a yes or a no, the battle within me growing too strong to decide on.
Her eyes grow brighter, the green beaming like a light. Even her lips curve into a smile. She’s excited.
While I can’t understand how or why, I don’t worry about it. Not when I’m too busy focusing on her.
She erases the space between us. Without giving me the lifetime I need to prepare for the contact, she presses her pillowy lips against mine and shivers.
Coming off sweet enough to give me cavities, my cock pulses, reminding me just how hard I am. How I want so much from her, but now isn’t the time. No matter what, I have to hold back. There aren’t any other options.
There’s the soft flick of her tongue against my lips, so hesitant, so shy. As far as I’m concerned, this might as well be her first kiss. Half of me is proud that she’s doing something she wants, while the other half howls for more. Demands for it.
Unable to fight, my hand lifts to touch her hair. So fucking soft. Moving to cup the back of her neck, I lift just enough to deepen the kiss. Enough to swallow down her next gasp, to enjoy her satisfying sigh. Everything about her tastes delicious.
Better than I could have ever imagined.
Groaning softly, I trace the goosebumps prickling up on her skin. She’s so soft. The complete opposite of everything I am.
Pulling away, her eyes are wide, surprised. Seeing the pink on other parts of her skin, not just her cheeks, is a turn on in itself.
Flattening her hand against my chest, right over my heart, I expect her to pull away, satisfied with what she’s done to me. Instead, she moves only so she has the room to throw her leg over my body.
Before I can wrap my mind around what she’s doing, she’s already straddling me. Away is her embarrassment. In its place, confidence. Or, maybe it’s arousal.
Her lids are heavy, her lips swollen. Even her chest rises, not with panic, but with something else. Something that’s causing two points to form against the front of her shirt.
Fuck. I swallow heavily, trying to understand what the hell is happening.
“This was—” she pants, her body shivering. “—my dream. Except…”
Feeling her hands wrap around mine, a groan leaves my lips as she settles them against her hips. She’s so warm.
“Pen—” Choking on her name, my body has a war within itself to take more than I ever deserve.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “I’m okay. Touch me, please.”
If my cock wasn’t already swollen thick, it is now. Hearing such words leave her lips feels unreal.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to keep my hands to myself. Not this time.