Page 41 of Highest Bid

He rocked inside her, slow rhythmic thrusts that drew out the moment even as it soon had her eyes widening in shock and her lips soundlessly parting, her orgasm seemingly stealing upon her like a whispered surprise.

She slid her legs around his hips, holding his stare, and clinging onto her pleasure even as her inner muscles clamped around his shaft. He gritted his teeth, wanting to prolong the moment, but barely holding on.

Stroking harder and faster, he lasted another minute before his balls drew tight and high, and release overwhelmed him. He plunged deep, his seed detonating in rolling waves of rapture that took away his breath, his every logical thought.

It was only after he’d moved to his side and drew her close, his heart overflowing with wonder, that he realized the true significance of their joining. They hadn’t just had spectacular sex...they’d made love.

Holding her in his arms, with their pulses unified and the soft background music in synch to their breaths, he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*

Galan woke with a smile on his lips and warmth stirring deep in his chest. Even the empty spot on the bed beside him didn’t deter his happiness. Not when the scent of beef skewers wafted his way along with Layla’s off-tune humming.

He sighed contentedly. He could get used to waking like this every morning. Perhaps Layla could do their breakfast and he’d cook dinner? Whatever they decided it’d be a shared role, just like parenthood.

His breath hissed out in a slow exhale, his belly clenching. He was getting too far ahead of himself. Kids had never factored into his life, but then marriage hadn’t either, until just recently.

Would Layla be open to the idea of children in their future? She’d lost her little brother to SIDS—sudden infant death syndrome. Even the thought of a baby in her life might be too much for her to consider if there was a chance of history repeating itself.

He threw off the covers and pushed out of bed. He’d be okay with whatever Layla wanted. As long as his dark-haired firecracker stuck by him, he’d handle anything else that came along.

Layla was turning the beef skewers in a pan and looked up as he entered the kitchen. “I didn’t think you’d ever wake,” she said with a grin.

He grinned right back. “You’re not in a hurry this morning, are you?”

She sighed dramatically. “Actually, I’ve got this new role at work, and I can’t be late or my boss might get me fired.”

Galan smirked at her playfulness. If she’d read her contract, she’d know he’d put in stipulations that she couldn’t be fired without cause. If they didn’t work out, her job was still safe. He’d put in whatever measures necessary to protect her.

His jaw tightened. Except them not working out wasn’t an option. He needed her in life as much as he hoped she needed him in hers.

He took in her glasses and glossy hair in its usual bun, and the crisp, white blouse she’d tucked into her dark pants. She looked prim and proper, and a little bit sophisticated. And he wanted to tear away the disguise to bare the wildcat beneath.

Instead, he bent and kissed her luscious mouth. “You saved our dinner.”

She nodded. “I woke last night and put everything in the refrigerator.” She nodded at the salad. “Not something I’d normally have for breakfast, but I think it’ll still taste good.”

Ten minutes later, Galan polished off the last beef skewer, before he scooped up what was left of the salad on his plate. He patted his abs. “I think last night’s dinner actually tastes better today.”

Her eyes gleamed as she nodded and stood to collect the dishes. He stood too, and reached for the plates and cutlery. “Let me clean up here while you finish getting ready. Then I can drive you to work.”

She cleared her throat, and handed the dishes over. “Thanks. I’m guessing Elsa will be giving me a lot of work to catch up on. I’m also certain I’ll need to reassure more than a few nervous brides.”

He smiled at her inner glow that revealed her excitement and possibly a little anxiety, too. “You sound just as nervous.”

She pushed at her glasses. “I guess I am. I just want to prove to myself, as well as to you and your brothers, that I’m more than capable of doing the job.”

His smile dimmed. “You earned that position. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all me.” He marched over to the sink and rinsed off their dishes and cutlery, the plates clattering as guilt slid through his veins like a razor.

Layla’s voice came out soft. “Is something wrong?

“I don’t want you to overwork yourself.” He turned to face her, not bothering to mask the guilt. “When you first started at the club, a part of me hoped that, by pushing you hard, you’d break...and I’d be the one to pick up the pieces.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She pressed a hand to her brow. “If only I’d known,” she said faintly.

“Why? So you could tell me I’m the world’s biggest dickhead?” he growled.

Her eyes warmed as she approached him. She stood on tiptoe in her Doc Martens and wrapped her arms around his neck. “No, so I could drag you off to your bedroom to have my wicked way with you...and then let you know you’re the world’s biggest dickhead.”

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