Chapter 5

Devon

It was a while before I fell asleep last night, but once I did, I didn’t wake up until I had to hoof it to my music theory class without a shower. Great, now I stunk and itched all over. Most of the itching was probably from the heightened sensations in my body. Damn fleshy receptacle of life had been firing on all cylinders ever since Judge Copeland had decided to gallop to the rescue on his white horse and go all knight in shining armor on me.

I trotted down the hallway and skidded to a stop just in front of the door, straightening my sweater just before entering. Composure. That’s what I needed starting right damn now. Annie and I had talked long into the night, and I’d cried while she stroked my hair. It seemed to be the same scene over and over where Judge was concerned, like some late night showing of Ground Hog’s Day at the local budget theater.

God, I can’t stop thinking about him.

I inhaled a huge breath and stepped inside the classroom. This was a tough-as-shit class and a lot of people failed it the first time through. I was on a scholarship and failure was not an option. I imagined a huge street sweeper crawling through my brain and taking all traces of Judge’s visage away on the bristles of its steely brush. Our exchange yesterday had been more awkward than normal. Hell, we hadn’t had an exchange in four years, so what did I know? Certainly not since I became legal. A woman. Maybe that’s what had caused the crackling tension. I was only off limits to him because I was my father’s daughter, not because I was still jailbait. A girl could hope, right? I’d prayed the first meeting would lessen him in my eyes and the infernal want would simply float away.

Hell. To. The. No.

I should have been laser focused on my budding music career and graduating this prestigious program with honors. But having him so close to me yesterday had just fanned the flame, playing havoc with my mind and body. I’d gushed so much wetness between my legs the past twelve hours, I’d changed panties twice.

I don’t know how I made it through my class but I did. Without daydreaming more than ten times. Okay, maybe twenty. I even think I got the hang of voice leading. I loved Professor McWilliams. Her high energy and love of the music itself made a dry and difficult topic palatable.

I threw my Mac into its sleeve and then my backpack. I wanted to get to my favorite music rehearsal room during this down time before someone else snagged it.

The moment I hit the doorframe, a hand snaked out to stay me. A hand I’d know anywhere. Holy shit, Judge Copeland had grabbed me. Only by the arm but my body didn’t care if the touch was innocuous or laced with wicked intent. The reaction overtook every pore of my skin. A tingling started in my toes and exploded through every cell until my heart’s pounding threatened to slip me into unconsciousness.

“Devon?”

Had he said something? I couldn’t hear anything over the throbbing in my ears from my racing pulse.

“Huh?” His incredible full lips were moving but I couldn’t read them. I had no idea what he’d just said. His grip slipped from my arm, and he dropped his hand to his side as we stood to the side of the throng of students pouring from the room.

“I asked if you were okay? After yesterday? I guess I needed to see for myself. I walked this way in the hopes of finding you.”

The timbre of his voice shot through me once I could make out his words. A deep baritone laced with that irresistible accent that made every part of me spring to life. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, bouncing off every crevice of that sensitive organ. My heart jackknifed from behind my breasts. I wished I could rub them; they ached to high heaven.

“Doing just fine. As you see.”

WTF? Had I just quoted Jane Austen? Shit and double shit. I hadn’t reverted back to that old nervous habit since junior high. He had on a plaid button-down with flat-front khakis. The subtle pastels brought out the hypnotic quality of his liquid brown eyes. I stared and tried to calm the rapid beating of my heart. After my trip into the archives of classic literature, I could feel a blush steal across my cheeks.

“How about a cup of coffee? If your dad ever asks me about this, I need to be able to tell him I protected you. Besides, it will give us an opportunity to catch up. I’ll admit I’m addicted to the on campus Starbucks. Do you have a half-hour?”

I tried to swallow the lump of unrequited love that had taken residence in my throat. It wouldn’t go down. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. All I could do was nod. I clamped my eyes shut against his look of eager anticipation. I should have shaken my head no instead of yes. Now, how was I ever going to get through the next thirty minutes? How was I ever going to get through the rest of my life? This little taste was only going to fuel the fire and make my thirst unquenchable.

Judge stood across from me completely at ease, one hand clutching the strap of his briefcase. When I opened my eyes again, he was still staring at my face. I felt like a rare coin on display at a numismatist convention. He appraised me, looking straight through my trembling body to my soul.

“Let’s go, then.”

I fell into step beside him, carrying my backpack in front of my sensitive breasts like a coat of polyester armor. After a few strained moments, I found my voice. “So, what classes are you teaching this semester?”

“The same old. Freshman Lit, Creative Writing, and Shakespeare. I have a great graduate student serving as my TA, so the Lit class isn’t as annoying as usual.”

A grin tugged at his lips when I glanced his way, and I couldn’t help my answering smile. “Hey, you’re talking to someone who was recently an annoying freshman, buddy. It’s a hard row to hoe.”

Where had the teasing come from? It seemed as if we’d fallen right back into our old habit of easy banter. I’d always loved that quality most about my relationship with Judge. Even when I was a kid, he’d never talked to me or treated me like some errant and ignorant child. He’d talked to me like I was his equal in intelligence.

Judge stared at me, this knowing look on his face. “I know. I just wanted to test you to see if you were listening to me.”

Listening to him? I’d hung on his every word since the moment I’d laid eyes on him. The verbal missives were burned on my memory, brought forth each day to torment my body in some kind of warped girl-crush rite of passage.

“Just remember, you started it. Payback’s a bitch.”

Before I knew it, the two-block walk had passed and Starbucks loomed before us, students rushing in and out of the storefront like bees to the hive. I glanced at Judge. Even though hordes of people swarmed around us, I felt isolated and insulated. As if he and I were the only people standing on the street. The connection between us was so palpable I reached out my hand to try and touch it. When he opened the glass door for me to slip past him and step inside, I allowed it to flutter back down to my side.

“What can I get you?” he asked, his accent causing my insides to flip over. My skin prickled, heart thundered, and lips trembled.

“Just a dark roast. With room.” I clutched the strap of my backpack in a death grip. If I were to let go, I’d touch him. A lock of thick hair had strayed from his swept back style and fallen over his forehead. My hands itched to touch it. To put it back where it belonged. No. My hands itched to thread through his entire head of glorious hair as I forced his lush lips to an aching nipple. “I like a little coffee with my cream.”

Judge laughed and the tingling became close to unbearable. Wetness flooded my panties. I wanted to hear that deep rumble of happiness in the bedroom. “I like your style. Two Sumatran blends it is.” He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet. “Why don’t you go grab a seat over there?” He pointed to some empty spaces by the fireplace. At least I wouldn’t have to sit with him at a romantic table for two in front of the entire student body.

“Sounds good. One sugar, too.”

He grinned and turned his back on me to give the barista our order. I flung my backpack next to the leather chair and snuggled in. I’d just slipped into my usual daydream about Judge’s hands traveling my body when the very hand of my fantasies held out a steaming cup of coffee to me. Mine only trembled a little when I took it from him.

“Thank you.”

“I hope I did it the way you like it.”

Holy mother of God. Did he just say that? I hissed in a breath so fast I almost saw stars.

Devon, did I touch your pussy just how you like it?

“I’m sure it’s fine.” I lifted the cup to my lips and pulled a steaming sip through. It burned my tongue, and I welcomed the scalding heat. Now my mouth could be on fire just like my nether regions.

“I’m happy I get to spend this time with you, Devon. I’ve missed you. I hoped I would run into you on campus but I never expected it to be under such negative circumstances. Boys can be such assholes. And some of us… well, we never grow out of it.”

But you did. I can’t think of a more respectful and caring male specimen. God, I wished I could say what I really wanted to without admitting everything. Even though only three feet loomed between us, it felt like a canyon. Because all of the words that remained unsaid filled the space and kept me from moving closer. Ever closer. So close I could feel his heartbeat and inhale his breath so we became one.

Judge looked amazing sitting across from me, and I welcomed the envious looks of the other female students. It already felt as if he belonged to me, even though I knew that fantasy would remain hidden under lock and key for all of eternity. Maybe this was a story I could tell my grandchildren someday. Judge speared me with a look as he sipped his coffee. And that look held something I couldn’t quite read. Those dark, brooding eyes always seemed to regard me like he saw everything, even the things I deliberately concealed.

“So tell me about your music. I always knew you wanted to study music as your major but I thought your parents would talk you into something more… practical.”

I sat up straighter, anxious to share the most important thing in my life with one of the most important people in my life. Despite his long absence, it felt as if he’d been right beside me the entire time, cheering me on to greatness. “You really want to know?”

“Absolutely. Your dad was raving about you the last time we talked. He says you have the voice of an angel and the songwriting talent of Diane Warren. Even we stodgy British dudes know who that is.”

I could feel the blush stealing into my cheeks again. It seemed as if my skin would remain a perpetual state of red in this man’s presence. He always knew just how to slay me with his words and looks. “I’ve won some songwriting awards. But the one song I’m working on now with my friend, Geoff. That’s the one that I really want to knock out of the park. If I win the Chancellor award, it will make my career.”

“Nashville or LA?”

“Huh?”

He set down his coffee, and I stared at the cardboard cup. A hand snaked out toward my chair. “Come here, Devon.”

I stilled, wondering what he meant. Those fingers that I’d imagined touching me a thousand times in thousands of ways, crept ever closer. I lifted my hand an inch, and he slid his palm underneath mine. I became mesmerized by the deep command of his voice. I shivered at the simple touch, almost coming undone in the loud and busy coffee house.

“You should be so proud of your amazing accomplishments. Will you sing for me sometime?”

“I…” I couldn’t find my voice. No way was I ever singing for him. I’d been dubbed a stylist and an emotional chanteuse. I couldn’t hide my feelings when I expressed them through song. I couldn’t even count the amount of times I’d drawn on my feelings for Judge as my vocal inspiration. If I sang, he’d know. He’d know everything and there would be no going back.

As soon as he removed his hand and clutched his cup again, the conversation started to flow. Just as easy and positive as it always had. Our coffees long gone, he glanced at the clock above the door and stood, holding out his hand again to help me up. Just I leaned over to lift my backpack, a booming noise reverberated through the coffee house and all conversation ceased as the lights extinguished.

Judge pulled me toward his torso, going straight to protective mode. I felt every plane of his body. I inhaled every nuance of his scent. I swooned. I buckled underneath the weight of the implications.

I fell deeply, madly in love with him.

“What’s happening?” I found myself saying before I could warn myself to keep my mouth shut. I looked up but all that met my eyes was blackness. I grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and hung on for dear life. “Is it a terrorist attack?”

Under the cover of blessed darkness, I snuggled into his neck, rubbing my cheek against the spattering of chest hair. He held me tight, his strong arms encircling my back. Just when I leaned in to get even closer, he released me as the lights flickered back to life.

I jumped back as if bitten. He’d let go of me so fast, I almost toppled over. My eyes searched his.

“Just a power surge. They’ve happened from time to time. These buildings are really old and sometimes these places that take a lot of electricity overtax the system. Nothing to be afraid of, really.”

The silence stretched between us, and although it wasn’t awkward, it was… strange. I felt like Judge watched me with interest, something that had nothing to do with being innocent and went beyond just a friend being protective of a young student.

If I casually saw him on campus, I didn’t know how I was going to act like Judge didn’t own every single cell of my body, when just standing in the same room with him had me so aroused basic bodily functions became a struggle.

The moment my soft body went flush with his hard one will forever be burned on my memory as the one when everything changed.