Bad Boy Judah

e l e v e n

My feet take me up the steps. I stare over at the drape covered windows on the right side. It's difficult to forgive myself for coming all the way here... for him. But I have some delusion that he might need me.

My finger presses the doorbell. Standing in front of this door seems darker than anything else. I shake off my nerves, although they hang on tight. My lips are frozen.

My eyes take another look at the black road behind me. Regret feels like a large spider crawling up my back. The door opens. I'm met with a gust of hot air and a hot Judah.

A short breath releases from my lungs. His hand pulls his hair away from his face. His grey eyes watch me move in. My heart races for miles. My body wants to manipulate my fingers to touch him. I try to resist.

There's a temporary pause, after he shuts the door. He rolls up the sleeves of his dark green shirt. Nothing is said or heard yet. I'm internally breaking down in small increments.

Judah walks over to the kitchen, staring at me across the island.

"Did you eat?" he asks gently.

I look from one side of the room to the other, feeling a tad awkward and self-aware. I don't know how to stand. I can already feel myself heating up under his stare.

"Actually, I was sleeping in my cozy bed," I try to tell him off.

He smirks, "Without me?"

I roll my eyes at that reply. Judah walks casually, swaying his pointy shoulders, towards his sofa. I think for a minute, though. He sits comfortably with his knees on opposites and his arms resting on the back.

Uh-oh. Was that his code for his troubles with sleep? Now I don't know... He has an odd way of expressing himself. My head feels heavier. I admire the way his shirt fits him... the way his veins clash and curve with his tattoos across his arms.

"Um, but we could sleep, here."

"We could do other things," Judah suggests, "Here."

My slow legs bring me to his side. One of his brows lifts, while his eyes snake me up and down.

"No," I shake my head, "Just sleep."

He interrupts by grabbing my butt, pulling me down to him on the sofa.

He grabbed my heart at the same time. I look into his deep grey eyes, wondering what's on his mind. Could it really be me? His next move tells me right away. His next move tells me he's the bad guy.

Judah locks my neck in his other hand, kissing me hard—and harder. Something unorthodox takes me over. My hands clasp the sides of his face, kissing him back, straddling over his lap.

Slowly, I move my tongue in, loving the taste of him. He makes a low groan, while his shameless hands travel up and down my back. His muscles harden under my touch. His fingers twist around with the strings of my sweatpants. His palms pass some barriers.

I quickly break the link we made and hop off of Judah. I smooth my hair back and take a long needed breath of air. Judah sits still, with his eyes closed, and his brows low. His hands, which are in mid-air and missing my waist, roll into fists. I lick my lips, wishing I was where I was.

"Don't play games with me," he turns his lips into a smirk, as he opens his grey eyes.

"I'm not. I told you what I want," I shrug and mumble, "Which is sleep."

"What about what I want?" he questions, leaning back in the sofa.

I spin around and walk up the stairs. My back can feel his harsh stare. I'm sure he doesn't appreciate being ignored. I know he loves the fact that there's space in the bed.