Page 110 of Hard to Judge

“But?” Arlo hikes a brow.

“When I decide to claim you as mine, your ass better be ready for what I have to give.”

He shivers in my hold. “I’m ready now.”

Not even close, but my eternal spring of patience was running dry.

Dean clears his throat.

I place my teeth on Arlo’s jaw, giving Dean something worth clearing his throat over and marking what’s mine. Only when I release both my grips does Arlo move, grabbing my hand and dragging me along.

It’s weird to be in public holding hands with him.

My sexuality hasn’t been a secret ever really, but Arlo has been damn near asexual as far as the world is concerned. Not even dates to big city events. Now, here we are hand in hand. Him parading me around with no freaking shirt on.

By weird, I mean euphoric.

Dean, the man I wished dead moments ago, gets down to the business of climbing rocks instead of my man. We get climbing shoes and chalk, then head for the fun stuff.

Turns out he knows what he’s talking about, and in only an hour and a half, Arlo and I are bouldering V4 and V5 grade routes, which Dean tells us is great for beginners. I hate the qualifier. I’m covered in sweat and smiling. I ignore it.

Besides, I have more important things to focus on.

Namely, Arlo’s shredded calves and wide back. His sweaty neck and bulging biceps as he traverses the wall, using tiny holds.

“Great foot swap, Arlo,” Dean cheers, talking him through the last part of the line.

I want to kill him a lot less. Mostly because this is really fucking fun, and Arlo has no interest in the climbing instructor.

He finishes, then flops onto the mat beside me, lying fully on his back while I have my elbows propped on my knees. “Why is that so hard?”

“Because you’re hot and sweaty.” I smile down at him.

His laugh is heady and light. It wraps me in invisible arms.

“Excellent job, both of you.” Dean nods. “If you need any future lessons, I’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Arlo flops him a peace sign.

“Thanks.” I offer a tip of my nonexistent hat.

Then it’s just us and the handful of people climbing or sitting and talking in small groups.

“So?” Arlo rolls onto his side and cradles his beautiful face in his hand.

“Yes?”

“Was that enough for you to put out?”

Abso-fucking-lutely. I’m harder than a steel pipe, so walking will be difficult.

I shrug. “Come to the locker room and see.”

“Mr. Judge?” Sana’s voice filters through the cabin door.

I hold a finger up to my screen and the other person on the virtual meeting. “Yes?”

“Your guests have pulled onto the tarmac.”

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