Page 8 of The Renegade Billionaire

Oh my God. When did I lose control of my mouth?

“Ah,” he says knowingly. “Bad breakup?”

My entire body flinches as he lifts himself to sitting, and I finally put my pointer finger away.

“Something like that,” I mutter. “Only worse.”

Both brows raise while he stares at me. Then his gaze roams lower and lower until his heat has touched every inch of my body.

“I’m so sorry about this. We’re…ah…renovating. Sort of. The sink doesn’t usually go this wonky though. If you want to give me your clothes, I’ll get them cleaned for you right away.”

“You want…my clothes?” he asks with a devilish grin that is definitely not suitable for a Heartmark movie. This man would make millions by simply smiling at women all day on some X-rated website for smile kinks.

When he stands then grips his shirt at the back of his neck, I spin to face the wall.

“No.” My voice cracks, and I purse my lips.Get a handle on yourself, Madison.“Not right this second. Just, change and leave them in the hallway. I’ll get them going as soon as I dry off and start breakfast for you.”

“It’s fine.” His voice is smooth as silk and covers me like a hug.

This is dangerous.

“Turn around.” The command in his tone heats my skin even more. “Please,” he adds. It’s the please that bends me to his will.

Slowly, I spin to find he’s wearing the same easy expression. “I’m Brax,” he repeats.

“You said that.”

“I did.” There’s a casual confidence in the way he carries himself that sets off mild alarm bells. Not enough to make me run, but enough that my ovaries screamwarning, warning, proceed with caution. “It’s customary for you to introduce yourself as well though, and you didn’t.”

I slap my forehead with my open palm. “I’m so sorry. I don’t normally start my day assaulting guests.”

Holy crap, Madi. What’s wrong with you?

“That’s a shame.” He chuckles. Why. Why does that sound worm its way under my skin?

Ignore the flirting. Ignore. It.“My name’s Madison. My friends call me Madi. How long will you be staying with us?”

Be professional. That’s the name of this game. Professionals do not react with their vaginas.

He folds his arms over his chest looking even more amused—cocky, but amused. “I’m not sure yet.”

“No wife or girlfriend. A dog, a job, a Bob. Anyone waiting for you wherever you hail from?” Where in the heck did my filter run off to?

“Nope.” He rocks back on his heels. Is it possible for that grin to get any freaking bigger? And why does he have to have dimples? I love dimples. “I’m completely single, unless you count my best friend, Greyson, or our nephew. No one else even knows where to find me.” He frowns for half a second. “It’s shocking how happy that makes me.”

“You’re hiding?”

“I’d call myself a principled explorer.”

“You’re running away?” I surmise.

The way he stares at me makes my insides do a funny little dance that has me backing up a step. “Maybe I’m a renegade.”

I shouldn’t be enjoying this interaction so much, but I can’t seem to walk away either.

“So,” I drag out the word, biting my lip as I attempt to focus. “You’re a traitor.”

He playfully clutches his chest. Playful Braxton is even more dangerous than handsome Braxton.