Page 7 of The Renegade Billionaire
The floorboards creak, and goosebumps explode all over my exposed skin, which would make sense if the water were cold, but it’s not. The water is actually warm, nearing hot.
When I feel my grandfather behind me, I attempt to move to the side, but that changes my hands and the trajectory of the water.
“You’ll have to climb under me,” I splutter into a spray and instantly choke on it.
“Well now, this is an invitation I’ve never had before.”
It takes more than a moment for my brain to react. The voice is deep and gravelly, and certainly not my seventy-year-old grandfather. It’s another long minute before I get my neck to work and my chin drops to my chest to find a stranger,a stranger, lying on the floor on his back and wedging himself between my legs.
“Who the heck are you?” I shout into the spray of water. It goes up my nose, and I sneeze—it’s a horrible sound that pierces my eardrums.
Sneezing is never cute, but especially when I do it.
His eyes crinkle at the corners just before his head is fully ensconced in the cabinet.
“I’m Braxton,” he says casually. “Brax.”
“That means nothing to me. Why are you here?” I splutter, sneezing again. Is that snot running down my chin?
“Pops checked me in late last night. He said you were working and that I’d meet you this morning. This…” He pauses, and I pull back an inch to get a good look at him.
I shouldn’t have done that—who has a body with that many dips and grooves and zero cellulite? Who is this guy?
“This is quite the introduction.” His chuckle sends prickles rolling across my skin.
The water slows to a trickle before shutting off completely, and my handsome rescuer slides out from the cabinet enough for me to see his face.
Pops checked in a very handsome stranger and didn’t think to tell me or even leave a note. We’re going to have a conversation about communication as soon as possible.
“This is a first I’ll never forget,” he says with a crooked smile that has my stomach skydiving without a parachute.
Brax, what kind of name is Brax anyway? Like Braxit? Or is that Brexit? Do I even know what Braxit is? Braxit or Brexit? Gah, I’m spiraling!
He slides out a few more inches, his broad shoulders rubbing against the inside of my shins as he stares up at me. It’s only now that I realize I’m dripping water all over his chest. And that I’m nearly naked because Pops never gets up this early and we weren’t supposed to have any guests.
Finally, my brain shouts,move, Madi, move, and I attempt to step over him but slip in the water.
Then everything happens in painfully slow motion.
My eyes fly open. His hands raise to protect himself while my arms windmill and reach for something—anything—to hold onto.
And then I fall spread-eagle on his chest, his hands catching my thighs and absorbing some of my weight, but he still lets out a lowoomph.
My wet, nearly naked vagina claps her hands as though this is her lucky day. Why, God, why did I choose today to wear the white boy shorts with bright pink kissy lips all over them?
Talk about mortifying on an entirely new level.
He smiles. I frown. We both freeze. Then he shows even more glossy white teeth while my lips open and close with no words.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to live out a Heartmark movie here.”
His words snap my mouth closed, and my face heats to shades of red I’m positive are a precursor to lung failure because I cannot breathe.
“I, ah, I’m so sorry.” I scramble to my feet and shiver when his hands slowly fall away from my thighs. “No. No. I’m sorry,” I say wagging my finger the way my kindergarten teacher used to do every time my parents forgot to pick me up. “No Heartmark films here. I’m off men. Really, really off them. I mean, I was on you, but noton youon you.”
He raises an eyebrow, and it makes him even sexier.
“I mean, I’m not dating. At all. Ever again. Man, woman, or alien, they’re all off limits.”Holy crap, shut up, Madi.“This is not a Heartmark movie, and I am absolutely not looking for any type of relationship, ever, with anyone. Ever.”
