Page 4 of Highest Bid

The auctioneer nodded at her, indicating she could step off the stage so bidding could begin on the next woman in line.

Then Galan was beside her, his arm moving around her waist, and his big body shielding her from the crowd. She shivered at his touch, his extravagant citrus-spiced scent, and his...hugeness. Even in the crowded room, he sucked away all the space, intensifying her awareness of him.

But glancing up at him as he steered her out of the function room and into the quiet foyer, his hard face gave nothing away. Not even desire.

She deflated a little. Was he already regretting his decision to bid on her?

Then he led her to a little alcove set away from a grouping of chairs in the foyer and pressed in a code on a digital pad for his private elevator. Her breath eased out even as she swallowed back a shout of glee. He was taking her to his suite of rooms on the third floor, where each of the brothers had their own private oasis.

He didn’t say a word when the doors swished apart, and they stepped inside the elevator. Self-awareness hit her like a freight train Galan loomed beside her. She sucked in a strangled breath, her pulse doing an erratic little dance as he turned toward her and clasped her chin.

His dark eyes glittered. “What are you playing at, Layla?”

Her own eyes widened at the rawness in his voice, but it was the force of passion coming off him in waves that burned hope through her chest. “I’ve supported SIDS through the Red Nose charity for a long time now. They’ll be beyond grateful for your contribution.”

“Your contribution, Layla,” he dismissed. “And you know that’s not what I mean.” Evidently he cared less about the small fortune he’d handed over, than the why behind it. His eyes swept her up and down, the heat in his stare reaching boiling point. “You’ve never shown off your body. You’ve always repelled attention.”

She was only distantly aware of the doors sliding closed. God, didn’t he get it, even now? He was smart, brilliant, but couldn’t see what was right in front of him. “Last I checked it’s a free country. And since I decided it was beyond time I broke free of my drab life to find adventure...here I am.”

“Bloody hell, Layla! What if some ancient, depraved pervert had won the bid?”

He had no idea she and his brothers had had that covered. Because there was no way she would have spent time with anyone but Galan. Not that he needed to know that just yet.

She smiled at the irony. Galan had always been the player, not her. And it was rather delightful to give him a taste of his own medicine. That he was also fourteen years older than her twenty-three years didn’t bother her. She shivered. He was in the prime of his life, closer to her mother’s age. “You might be depraved, but I wouldn’t exactly call you ancient...”

Another, far more explicit, obscenity slipped from his mouth before he ground out, “What am I going to do with you?”

She swallowed back an urge to tell him everything. Her growing feelings for him. Her envy of the women he took to his bedroom. Her need to be with him and no one else. Instead, she cleared her throat and croaked out, “Last I heard it was something depraved.”

His eyes flashed, even as he swooped low, his lips crashing onto hers in a brutal possession that caused her to moan with a whole lot of need. The unyielding skill of his mouth, the implacable strength of his hands on her butt, and the press of his woolen suit against her breasts were beyond her wildest dreams.

From the day he’d hired her—against all the odds—six months ago, she’d tried to repress her attraction to him. But the time had come when her feelings couldn’t be ignored any longer, even if they weren’t reciprocated.

She was only glad his physical needs outstripped his mental rebuttal. Because once they were intimate, she intended to be the one woman he couldn’t let go.

Joy bubbled within. Throwing all her uptight principles to the wind had been worth it just for his kiss alone!

The elevator pinged, but Galan didn’t pause in his mastery of her mouth. He took a step, then another, before he spun her around and deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing between her lips to taste her inside and out, while the bulge of cock revealed just how much he wanted her.

Layla closed her eyes and lost herself to him, until she literally had no clue if they were still in the elevator or someplace in his penthouse apartment. She was breathless, dizzy, and burning with passion. And nothing truly mattered other than basking in his desire and living out the fantasy that was even better than she’d imagined.

He groaned before his head reared back, and he moved his fingers to her waist, and deftly unclipped her skirt. It dropped to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her heeled stilettos, her nipple pasties and a lacy crimson thong. He inhaled sharply, his admiration stark. “Jesus, Layla, you’re perfect,” he breathed hoarsely.

Her heart soared. Had she ever felt more wanton and beautiful?

He dropped low, his hands spanning her waist as he tongued the sensitive flesh around her nipple pasty, before he scraped his teeth on the underside of her breast.

She trembled as exquisite heat flashed through her body. She’d waited so long for this day, dreamed about it. And now she was nothing short of a pressure cooker about to erupt.

He looked up, his dark eyes snaring hers. “Tell me you want this.”

Warmth moved up her face. “Yes.”

He wasn’t to know yet that sex was just a prelude to what she hoped would be emotional commitment. Because one night with him was never going to be enough. She’d waited six long months for him, and now she wanted the whole package. Physical and emotional intimacy.

“Anyone could have bid on you,” he growled.

She nodded, sucking in a breath at his sudden, dark intensity. “They could have,” she agreed. “But they didn’t win me. You did.”

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