The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,37

was draped over a chair near the pool. No sign of Inda. Or Nicholas. Or anyone, for that matter.

This didn’t have to be a big deal. We were both adults. If I went back inside and pretended I hadn’t seen her, she’d be stuck out here with sunscreen stinging her eyes. She’d find her towel eventually, but it would be quicker if I just brought it to her.

Resolving not to stare at her tits, I got her towel off the chair.

The part about not staring at her tits was a lie. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

“Damn it,” she said, feeling for the railing, her eyes still squeezed shut. She walked up the pool steps, water dripping down her body.

My heart thumped in my chest and my dick was so hard it ached. She was so beautiful and whatever bullshit I’d been telling myself about not being attracted to her was a big fat lie.

I was frustratingly, insanely, stupidly attracted to her.

Without a word, I held out the towel.

“Oh,” she said when her hand brushed it. She took it from my hands. “Thanks.”

I swallowed hard while she wiped her eyes, and before I could kickstart my brain into working again, she opened them.

“Jude! What the hell? I thought you were Inda.”

It was right about then that I realized I really should have told her it was me. But my brain was still barely functional.

“Sorry.”

Still blinking her bloodshot eyes, she huffed—and did not make any move to wrap the towel around herself. “I didn’t know you were out here. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“No one was here, so I got your towel.”

“Well that’s just great.” She kept talking, gesturing with her hands, her towel flinging around. “You really had to dig into all my secrets, didn’t you? Couldn’t leave anything to the imagination. You just walk out here while I’m swimming and of course it’s the one day my stupid bikini top falls off and the damn sunscreen gets in my eyes and now you’ve seen my boobs.”

Fuck yes, I had. They looked round and soft with perfect pink nipples. Hard nipples. And they were bouncing a little as she ranted at me.

“You should really put those away. Then you can finish yelling at me.”

“Who cares? You’ve already seen them.”

I ground out the words through my teeth. “I care, Cameron. I’m the one who cares.”

Her expression softened, her full lips parting. A light flush crept across her cheeks. The effect was only partly ruined by the way she still squinted one eye more than the other. Her gaze traveled down, stopping at my groin for a second before snapping back to my face.

I was a breath away from doing something very, very stupid when something big nudged my ass from behind.

“What the hell?” I spun around to find the dog I’d seen sleeping inside—an enormous Saint Bernard. “How did I not know you have a dog the size of a pony?”

“He’s not mine. Brutus, what are you doing?”

“Then why is he in your house?”

She walked over to rub Brutus’s huge head. She’d donned the towel while I’d been distracted by the dog. “He’s free-range. Goes where he wants. His parents live over on Tequila Lane, but they’ve never had any luck keeping him contained. But he’s a good boy. Aren’t you a good boy?”

“Cameron, if a dog can just walk into your house, anyone can.”

“Don’t start. I’m safe here in Bluewater.” She turned on her heel and headed inside. Brutus followed.

“Are you safe here, though? When I looked at your home security, I assumed you’d have the doors locked and the security system activated. But you’re out there swimming topless while random animals, and who knows who else, wander around your property.”

Brutus trotted away, maybe off to resume his nap.

“You were the one being a creeper,” she said, pausing by the kitchen island. “And Bert probably let him in. He likes to nap in my living room.”

“I wasn’t being a creeper, I came to pick you up. I know I’m early, but it’s not my fault you were flaunting your boobs.”

“Oh my god, really? My top fell off and my eyes were stinging so bad I couldn’t see. I’m in my own home, not standing on a balcony in New Orleans flashing my tits for beads.”

I had a momentary—but very clear—vision of Cameron wearing nothing but cheap plastic beads draped between her tits.

“Look, I’m sorry.”

She re-tucked the corner of the towel in the cleft of her cleavage. “There’s only one

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