Page 7 of Highest Bid

He strode across polished floorboards, past an open-plan living and dining room, where a huge marble table with cushioned high-back chairs, brick-red couches on a black and red patterned rug, and a huge flat-screen television took up most of the space.

An industrial stainless steel kitchen with double sinks beckoned. He clearly loved to cook. Then he strode past a gym, where she glimpsed a boxing bag, treadmill, weights, and bench press.

He paused before he all but kicked his bedroom door open. She stared in shock at the king-sized bed, with a red cover and inky black pillows. A cream throw broke up the masculinity just a touch, while glazed, floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city skyline and its subdued smudge of endless, twinkling lights.

But it was the silence that she noted most. Incredible, considering a nightclub pulsed with deafening noise two floors beneath them.

Then he was striding through his bedroom and toward the bathroom en suite. More automated lights flicked on, highlighting white tiles with gold edging, twin basins, and a huge shower.

He set her back onto her feet before he straightened and drew off his jacket and shirt. She’d already memorized his midnight styled hair, his hooded but brilliant dark eyes, his firm chin and nose with its slightly imperfect bump. So it seemed completely natural for her to watch as his magnificent body was revealed to her for the first time.

His chest was hard, but not too muscular. For a man his height, he retained a level of leanness, his shoulders wide, and his skin kissed a faint gold not entirely from the sun. Even the sparse line of hair from his navel to below his pants had her hands itching to follow the path.

He tugged off his footwear and then his pants and boxer briefs, and her throat instantly dried. His cock was already thickening and, even semi-hard, she couldn’t believe he’d fitted so perfectly inside her.

“Keep staring, firecracker, and I’ll be hard-pressed not to sink into you all over again.”

Wasn’t that the idea?

Even seeing the proof of his size, a rush of liquid heat lubricated her pussy, scenting the air with a musky, wanton aroma. Beneath her pasties, her nipples tingled and hardened, her breasts growing heavy.

“Jesus, Layla,” he breathed, his nostrils flaring. “You don’t know what you’re playing at.”

She stepped close, running an outspread hand across his chest. When she dropped lower, and slid her hand over his cock, she said softly, “Who said I was playing?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, before his hand encircled hers, completely engulfing it. “You know I don’t do relationships. Sex is all I can offer.”

She smothered a sigh. Oh, yes, she knew that all too well. Except change was as inevitable as the sun rising at dawn. She’d proven that to him tonight. “So being with you isn’t in my best interest?”

“Being with me is never in anyone’s best interest,” he conceded. “But what I can give you is pleasure. Fuck, I paid top dollar for you tonight. I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you.”

He reached into the shower stall and pulled the lever. Water gushed out with plenty of steam. “Take off your shoes. I want you in the shower and those pasties off.” His eyes darkened. “I want to see all of you.”

Her pulse galloped at the desire emanating from him. For six months she’d stayed discreet and low profile, while day-by-day she’d withheld a growing need for him to notice her, to fulfill her like he’d fulfilled so many other women. That she’d hidden her figure from his appreciative gaze made her suddenly desperate for him to fully see her.

Thanks to her genetics, and a love of healthy food, she had a great body. Perhaps it was time to accept that fact, not hide from it as though it’d expose her whole family.

“Layla?” he prompted.

She slipped off her shoes, then stepped into the shower. It was beyond erotic sharing it with Galan, whose hard-on caressed the small of her back while his big hands soaped her whole body from behind, kneading and stroking, and sending darts of fiery electricity straight to her core.

When he finally focused on her breasts, she shivered despite the heat building within and the scalding water pummeling them both.

Minutes later, he carefully unpeeled one pasty, and then the other, his surprisingly gentle touch ensuring there was no discomfit. He turned her around, his satisfied sigh echoing in the cubicle. “You truly are beautiful,” he said huskily.

Pleasure surged through her. She’d hidden her body for so long she’d started to believe she was invisible, unnoticeable. Though she’d found comfort in being unlike her mother, who needed a man’s admiration to feel good about herself, it was nice to know Galan appreciated her feminine form.

Blinking water from her eyes, she looked up at him. Damn it. Without her heels he dwarfed her. Yet somehow he made her feel safe, too, at least for this one night.

Few men commanded a room like he did, with his powerful build, compelling stare and sharp intellect. And, in her experience, too few men knew how to take care of a woman like Galan did. A pity she wasn’t practiced in singing praises. She cleared her throat and said, “You’re not half bad yourself.”

He lifted a dark brow. “Half bad? Looks like I’d better up my game.” She gasped when he spun her around so that her spine and buttocks faced him. “Bend over, firecracker.”

She stiffened, and he chuckled even as he put a hand on her nape to guide her head lower, his other hand busy squirting something from a bottle. She jerked at the touch of a big, squishy sponge against her pussy, and gasped at the cold, silky lotion that covered the sponge. “What are you doing?”

“Aside from turning you on?” He chuckled again at her tight-lipped silence. “I want to make sure my entry is as comfortable for you as possible.”

“I’m not a virgin!”

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