The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,53
entrance gate.
As soon as we pulled out onto the main road, he opened it up. I felt the speed in my chest, in the way we sliced through the warm night air. The vibration of the engine hummed through my body as the scenery flew by. With a motorcycle between my legs and my arms around this gentle beast of a man, it was easy to forget the chaos I’d left behind. Lose myself in the freedom of speed.
We came to a stop in what looked like an industrial area, next to a building with tall garage doors on one end. A set of stairs on the adjacent wall led to a door on the second floor. It was hard to see much in the dim light of the single streetlight. But as soon as we climbed off the bike, another light blazed to life.
“It’s on a motion detector,” Jude said.
I pulled off the helmet and handed it to him, feeling suddenly guilty. When I’d asked Jude to take me home, I hadn’t thought about whether or not he’d want me to invade his private space like this.
“I’m sorry for springing this on you. Are you sure this is okay?”
“It’s fine. I don’t have company very often, but it shouldn’t be too embarrassing.”
He took my hand and led me up the metal staircase, his boots making surprisingly little noise. He glanced around—it was like a reflex, I saw him do it everywhere—before unlocking the nondescript door.
And just like that, I stepped into Jude’s world.
From the outside, the building didn’t look like a residence. But inside was a sprawling loft. Exposed conduit and bare brick walls had been coupled with comfortable furnishings. A long section of wall had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stuffed with books. The kitchen was open with a bar-height island separating it from the rest of the space. Another area had a couch and two chairs facing a flat screen TV mounted on the wall. His bed—king size and neatly made—was in a shadowy corner at the far end.
“It’s not much,” he said, hanging his keys on a hook by the door. “But it’s home.”
“I like it,” I said, taking slow steps and absorbing every detail. The deck of cards on a side table. The large desk with six monitors. The set of golf clubs in the corner.
“Thanks. I keep saying it’s temporary until I find something else. I guess I’ve been saying that for five years, so maybe I should just accept that I live here. Anyway, you could probably use some dry clothes.”
I glanced down at my bedraggled pajamas. Leaving without changing into something else—or grabbing a change of clothes—had been a stupid thing to do. I wasn’t a wilting flower who could be scared out of her own home by some assface who thought he could fuck with me.
Except tonight, I was. And it was by choice. And maybe that was what made it okay to be standing in damp silk pajamas and sandals that, now that I looked down at my feet, probably weren’t even mine. Inda’s maybe? Or something Luna had left behind?
I was tired, an aching exhaustion that I felt deep in my bones. I’d been holding myself together—all by myself—ever since the hit and run. No, ever since the parking garage. I’d been keeping my fear bottled up, hidden behind a wall of sarcasm and flippancy. I was fine. It hadn’t been a big deal. I could handle things myself.
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.