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The kiss was violent—savage and brutal. Nails scratched. Holds tightened until fingertips dug in. He bit my chin. I bit his jaw. I sucked his tongue, and he pulled my bottom lip into his mouth, scraping his teeth across the tender flesh as he released it.
He lifted me, and I automatically wrapped my legs around him. Lowering me so his hardness was pressed between my legs, he rounded his back to keep his lips sealed to mine.
After long, intense moments, he tore himself away from the kiss like it physically hurt and looked to the side.
“What?” I asked, but then heard what I’d been too distracted to the first time.
Knocking.
“Go away,” Judge called.
“It’s me.”
I wasn’t sure which of the men that was, but Judge set me down, pressing his body against mine and groaning before stepping away.
When he opened the door, Haze was standing there. “Gotta problem and need you.”
Judge nodded. “Be right—”
“No, we need O.”
“Me? Why?”
But he was already gone.
“Why do they need me?”
Judge turned toward me and lifted his shirt before adjusting his cock so it was stretched up his belly and tucked into his waistband, the last few inches exposed. Then, like he hadn’t just teased me to the point of mini-orgasm and permanent fantasy fuel, he pulled his shirt down and tossed me his jacket. “Let’s go see.”
I pocketed a keycard and Judge grabbed his gun before we headed out our door and into one two rooms over.
The pretty woman from the parking lot was waiting in the open doorway with Haze. As soon as she saw me, her shoulders slumped.
But it wasn’t because she was disappointed to see her wannabe lover had a woman already.
It was with relief.
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed. Then, moving aside, I saw what had her so concerned.
A frail but beautiful little girl was watching us. Her eyes—which looked too big for her delicate face—were wet with unshed tears.
And haunted.
Too sharp, too knowing, too sad.
“Hey kid,” Judge said softly.
Despite his gentle, warm tone, the girl tensed and inched closer to the far edge of the bed.
Where Scythe sat on the floor.
Judge was careful to keep his reaction locked down, but his hands were fisted hard enough to turn his knuckles white. His voice was even gentler when he said, “This is my girlfriend, Ophelia. She’s a nurse. Can she check you out?”
The porcelain doll of a child took me in for a moment. I must’ve passed inspection because she gave a small nod.
I went over and sat in front of the bed, keeping my distance. “I like your stuffy.”
“It’s a sloth,” she whispered.
