“Michaels dropped his fork when Judge stepped out of the bathroom. Goddamn. He tracked Judge’s every movement. He still wore nothing but that dang-blasted towel, all that slick black chest hair on full display. Michaels’ mouth watered and it had nothing to do with the perfectly cooked steak he’d been eating. Judge got his plate and a bottle of water out of the fridge and came to sit down across from Michaels, completely unaware of his inner agony. “Wow. This looks really good. I’ll gladly suffer later if this tastes half as good as it looks,” Judge said, cutting a big chunk of his steak. Michaels frowned. “Suffer. What do you mean?” “I usually don’t eat late. Especially a big meal. It sits on my stomach like lead and I feel so sluggish in the morning.” Judge shrugged. “Side-effect of being old.” Michaels scoffed. “You’re not old, Judge. What are you… thirty-five, thirty-seven?”