Page 67 of The Auction
He moves in, close enough that his chest presses into mine, his breath warm against the side of my neck. I feel him inhale,slow and deliberate, and it’s like being pinned in place by something I can’t see.
The heat in my chest spikes, running lower, heavier.
His lips hover near my skin. I feel him part them, and for one reckless second, I think—he’s going to kiss me.
The thought hits me so hard it makes my sensitive clip pulse and I flex my thighs. A sharp, high-pitched moan escapes me before I can stop it. My hand flies to my mouth, my eyes wide.
He pauses.
The entire penthouse feels like it goes silent with him.
And then I feel the curve of his mouth against my skin. The smug, quiet smirk.
He leans back just enough to press the elevator button.
But before the doors slide open, he dips in again, close enough for his lips to brush the shell of my ear. His voice is low, steady, and annoyingly happy with himself.
“I won.”
The doors part, and he steps inside. I stay right where I am, arms crossed over my chest, scowl on my face aimed at him.
“I’ll bring back takeout,” he says, glancing back at me while he leans casually against the elevator wall.
I flip him off as the doors close, catching the sound of his laugh just before they seal shut.
This is going great.
Better than great, actually.
I’ve had a hard-on for what feels like forty-eight hours straight, but I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun. She’s stubborn, petty, and absolutely incapable of backing down—and I’m enjoying every second of watching her try to beat me at my own game.
The Thai bags swing from my hand as I walk back toward the penthouse, the smell filling the elevator. I ordered enough for six people, all because I couldn’t decide between the curries or the noodles… and maybe because the idea of her rolling her eyes at the excess makes me want to smile.
Hell, Iamsmiling.
I hadn’t even planned on leaving today. But when I saw her dressed and heading for the elevator earlier, I knew I couldn’t let her get away without pushing things up another notch. And I did. The look on her face when those doors closed—priceless.
When I step inside, she’s in the kitchen, pretending not to watch me set the bags down.
“I didn’t know what you like,” I say casually, tearing open a container, “so I got a little of everything.”
“Thanks.”
One word. Bitter enough to curl at the edges.
I bite back a grin but knowing she’s a little salty, I turn on a cold case crime show. They’ve always been her favorites.
We eat in relative silence except when we chime in on the crime and who could have done it.
My mind keeps going back to her on that auction block.
The question she won’t answer.
Why?
I could push her. Ask why she’s going through with this like she’s got something to prove. But I already know I’m not going to get the truth—not yet.
Still, the thought nags at me.
