The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(47)

But I didn’t want to handle things myself. Not tonight. I wanted to take off the mantle of high-powered CEO. Woman in a man’s world. Badass engineer and literal rocket scientist who could do anything. Face anything. Be anything.

If I could be anything, tonight all I wanted was to be held. For someone else to do the heavy lifting.

I looked Jude up and down, doubting he owned a single item of clothing that wouldn’t fit three of me. “Maybe just a robe while they dry?”

“I actually have something that might fit you,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

A doorway near his bed proved to be a small walk-in closet. He disappeared inside and I chewed my lip while I waited. Clothes that fit me? Did he mean women’s clothes? I didn’t like the idea of wearing something one of his exes had left behind.

He came out with a folded set of clothes and handed them to me. “Bathroom’s through there.”

“Thanks.” I took the clothes—they were soft and smelled fresh—and went through the door.

The small bathroom was sparkling clean. One bath towel, folded precisely in half, hung from a towel rack next to a clawfoot tub encircled by a white shower curtain. A mirrored medicine cabinet hung over the vanity and the toilet lid was closed. A single toothbrush sat in a chrome holder designed for two, the second slot empty.

I set the dry clothes on the counter and peeled off my pajamas. The fabric stuck to my skin and a shiver ran down my spine. I shook everything out and hung it up on the shower curtain rod to finish drying. My bra and panties were damp, too, so I took those off and laid them on the edge of the tub.

Jude had brought me a pair of cotton boxer briefs and a faded green t-shirt. The underwear certainly hadn’t belonged to a woman. They were loose on me, so I folded down the waistband once to make them a little more secure.

I picked up the neatly folded shirt and let it fall open. It said USMC in cracked lettering, like it had been worn and washed many times. I slipped it on and pulled it down, smoothing it over my bare skin. It was big on me, but I wasn’t swimming in it. There was no way it would fit Jude.

US Marine Corps. Was this his? Who had he been when he’d worn this?

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I winced. My hair was flat and stringy. My mascara had held up—even in the rain—so that was something. But overall, I looked like hell.

Well, it wasn’t like Jude hadn’t seen me in all my hot-mess glory already.

I came out to find Jude in dry clothes—a plain white t-shirt and light gray sweats. He looked up from the sink where he was filling a tea kettle with water.

“Hey.” His eyes traced from my head down to my toes, then back again. He cleared his throat. “More comfortable?”

“This is great.” I smoothed the shirt down again. “Is this yours?”

“Yeah, it’s mine.”

“How did it ever fit you?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “I wasn’t always this big. Eighteen-year-old me sure wasn’t.”

“You’ve had this shirt since you were eighteen?” I asked, jerking my hands away, suddenly afraid I’d damage it.

“Eighteen or nineteen,” he said, and set the tea kettle on the stove. “I don’t really know what I’m doing, it just seemed like offering you tea was the right thing to do.”

As sweet as it was, I didn’t want tea. I wanted this man’s arms around me, cocooning me in safety. I wanted to feel like I didn’t have to be brave for a few hours. I wanted to let him be my courage. My protection. My shield.

I met his eyes, searching for a sign that he wanted me, too. For something that was more than a hint. More than a quickly smoothed-over glimmer of desire. Had we both been circling around the truth? Or was I alone in this infatuation?

As if he already knew me from the inside out—knew exactly what I needed—his expression turned hungry. No bodyguard mask hiding his feelings. His eyes swept over me, lingering on my chest where my nipples brushed against the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Down to the boxer briefs that were so loose they were in danger of falling off. Over my legs, bare from my upper thighs down to my toes.

With his eyes still on me, he let go of the tea kettle and crossed the distance between us. He slipped his hands around my waist, hauling me against him. He was so tall, I had to look up. Without a word, he tilted his face and brought his mouth to mine.

The sensation of his kiss exploded through me. Rising up on my toes and pressing myself against him, I threw my arms around his neck. He delved his tongue into my mouth, deep and demanding, and slid his hands up my back beneath the t-shirt, spreading heat across my skin.

His solid—and oh my god, so thick—erection pressed against my belly. I rubbed myself against him and he groaned into my mouth.

God, it felt good to be kissed like this. With heat and passion. With strong arms surrounding me. With velvety tongues sliding against each other, urgency flowing through us both, making us frantic. Hot. Desperate.

This wasn’t enough. I wanted to climb him like a tree. Feel his solid length between my legs. I jumped up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He caught me with his hands cupping my ass and groaned again.

“Bed?” he asked, our lips barely disconnecting.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I breathed again, then went back to attacking his mouth with mine.