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He grinned. “Now, I know I’m not going to look the same as you in those clothes.”
Her gaze swept over him from head to toe, and heat warmed her chest and spread up into her cheeks. She didn’t respond to his comment, though she silently agreed.
Judge looked ruggedly sexy in the blue jeans, T-shirt and jacket he currently wore. His close-cropped beard lent a hint of danger to his appearance that made her want to reach out and touch the bristles.
She couldn’t help but compare him to her past boyfriend, who couldn’t grow a full beard like the one Judge sported. His soft, clean-shaven face would have looked weak next to Judge’s mountain-man sexiness. Not that she was interested in the man for any purpose other than to train him while she waited for an opportunity to identify Augustus.
PJ pushed thoughts of her old boyfriend to the back of her mind, using techniques learned during indoctrination into TCW.
The past was gone—and good riddance. The present sucked, being a part of TCW, but she held out hope for the future.
In the kitchen, they washed their dishes in a sink full of warm, soapy water and set them on a rack to dry.
She led the way out of the mess hall and crossed the compound to the supply building, where she handed him a pair of black cargo pants. “You’ll put these on and throw your clothes into the basket at the end of the counter.”
She reached for a shirt from a shelf. When she turned to hand it to him, she froze.
He’d shucked his shirt, boots and blue jeans and was stepping into the pants.
Thankfully, he wore black boxer briefs, though she would have guessed him to be the kind of man who went commando every chance he got.
His broad, naked chest seemed to fill the room and suck the air from it all at once. His waist was trim and his thighs muscular, not in a weight-lifter way, but toned like a runner and tanned.
PJ’s mouth went dry. She swept her tongue across her lips, unable to look away.
Judge pulled the pants up over his slim hips and tight ass and dragged the zipper up, covering the sizable bulge beneath.
PJ’s heart pounded against her ribs. When she glanced up, she realized his gaze was on hers, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Caught staring, heat rushed into her cheeks. “Here.” Flustered, she shoved the T-shirt into his hands, an electric current passing through her at the feel of his skin brushing against hers. “Boots are in the next room when you’re finished dressing,” she said and dove through the door.
A throaty chuckle followed her.
PJ pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. What was wrong with her? She’d been with TCW long enough to learn how to control her emotions and desires. Judge was just another man. She hadn’t been interested in any of the other recruits. Fraternization was prohibited. Not once since she’d been with TCW had she been even remotely tempted to break that rule.
Until Judge.
Holy hell, he had a hot body.
For a moment, she closed her eyes and reminded herself that relationships were trouble, and men could be cruel to the ones they were supposed to care about. She’d made a vow to herself to never fall into that trap again.
Judge had trouble written all over him. She’d have to keep him at arm’s length and guard her heart.
She had a feeling she’d struggle on both counts.
PJ squared her shoulders, opened her eyes and stared at Judge’s broad chest, which stretched the black T-shirt tightly across his pecs and biceps. No amount of self-coaching she could do would slow the pulse hammering through her veins. She tore her gaze from his chest and looked up at his face.
His smile pushed her pulse even faster.
“Ready?” she said, her voice breathy.
His lips twisted. “You said something about boots?”
PJ blinked. “Right.” She turned, her arm brushing against his chest. Holy hell, he was rock-solid.
As she recalled lying full-bodied over his magnificent frame, her breasts tingled, and heat coiled at her center.
“Boots?” he whispered, his mouth so close to her ear, his warm breath stirred the loose tendrils of her hair that had escaped the ponytail.
