Page 39 of Highest Bid

“No. I needed to keep myself occupied.”

As he unpacked metal skewers, a chunk of beef, and some salad ingredients, his stare caught hers. “After dinner I’ll be more than happy to keep you occupied.”

Promises, promises.

Resisting fanning her face, she instead sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter and reached for one of the bags. “Let me help you.”

They quickly fell into an easy camaraderie as she prepared a side salad, while he cut the beef into cubes and pushed them onto skewers. Seasoning the meat, he placed each skewer onto a grill with a gratifying sizzle. Layla was cutting a tomato into wedges when he pulled a champagne bottle out of a bag. Popping the cork, he proceeded to pour them each a glass of the golden liquid.

“To us,” he said in a toast.

She smiled and picked up her flute, clinking her glass against his and repeating, “To us.”

He took a swallow, but his mind obviously went somewhere other than their dinner when he murmured, “You know, you’re still so young, with your whole life ahead of you. I can’t help but wonder why you singled me out from so many other eligible men.”

She took a sip of her drink, and bubbles tickled her nose before sliding down her throat in a decadent, icy-cold rush. “I’m twenty-three, old enough to know what I want.”

His eyes turned considering as he asked, “And what do you want, firecracker?”

You... it’s always been you.

She cocked her head to the side. “I want a fulfilling job and a passionate relationship. Thanks to you, I think I’ve achieved both.”

“So our fourteen-year age gap doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?”

“I’m thirty-seven now, and at the prime of my life. But in a decade I’ll be forty-seven, and you’ll be thirty-three.”

Her pulse accelerated, her senses going into overdrive and leaving her dizzy with joy. It seemed incredible that he was now thinking of them together long-term, but who was she to disbelieve in miracles?

She grinned. “You are closer to my mom’s age.” She swirled her drink, watching the bubbles dance and fizz. “But you’ve never suffered from a low sex drive, and we both know it’s highly unlikely you ever will.”

He grabbed a pair of tongs and conceded, “Sometimes all I can think about is tasting your sweet pussy again before driving my cock so deep inside you we’ll never be separated.”

The visual had her almost choke on her drink, her pussy instantly damp and her nipples hard. Swallowing the last mouthful of champagne, she put down her glass and dropped the tomato wedges into a big salad bowl already half filled with salad leaves. “Just as long as you keep your bedroom off limits to anyone but me...”

The beef hissed and smoked as he turned each skewer over carefully. He looked up, his focus returning to her. “Layla, you’re the first and only woman to share my bedroom.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, her chest drawing tight. “Don’t patronize me, Galan. I can handle anything but your lies.”

“It’s the truth. The women you saw me take up to my apartment never set foot in my bedroom. I took them to my guest bedroom.” He shrugged. “You were the first to share my bed.”

Her insides quivered even as her voice cracked. “Why?”

“Because you are special and we share a connection, unlike the other women, who I kept at an impersonal distance.” His voice deepened. “It would have been a violation to take you anywhere other than to my bedroom.”

Needing to keep her trembling hands busy, she crumbled some feta cheese into the salad bowl. “I wish I’d known.”

He took another gulp of his drink, before he refilled their glasses. “I was having a hard time admitting it myself.” He looked up, his smile tender, sincere. “I never was much good at baring my emotions.”

“Yet I knew from the very first day I was attracted to you.”

“And now?” he asked, his voice whisper-quiet, yet so powerfully intense she almost melted.

She cleared her throat. “And now I realize our attraction has only intensified.”

He nodded, and they were soon lost in their own thoughts as Layla finished prepping the salad and Galan made balsamic vinaigrette to go with it. A few minutes later, he turned off the grill and removed the beef skewers. “Dinner is served,” he said grandly.

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