The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(17)

Something deep inside me that I didn't know existed rears its head, making me question if I've lost my sanity. It's a craving to see what else Riggs will unleash upon me. There's a desire to prove to him that I can handle whatever he wants to do to me better than any other woman he's done it to.

Maybe I'm crazy. When I was eighteen, I wondered what he did with other women. I pretended I was one of them, but I knew I never could be. He was too tight with my father. Then he cornered me on my twenty-first birthday. It was the last time I ever saw him.

That night, I vowed that if he ever touched me again, I would prove to him I was worth taking the risk and getting past whatever loyalty he felt toward my father.

Now, whatever is going on between him and my father seems to have allowed him to get past the barrier that used to be between us. So while one part of my brain screams at me to get out of here, the other won't let me. It reminds me of the ache I've never lost all these years, wondering what it would be like to have Riggs as mine. So even though he's into things I'm too naive about, the memories won't let me run.

A long time passes. I start to shiver from the cold, with goose bumps breaking out on my skin. My teeth chatter, and I grow tired of my body being in the restrained position. Sleepiness sets in, and I fight the urge to doze off.

The physical agony almost makes me break my resistance. And then the real questions come.

Is this what it'll be like if I stay with Riggs? I'll be tied up and collared like a dog?

I stare at the expensive gold band around my neck, wondering why Riggs even has it.

Was it on another woman?

Jealousy ripples through me, making me shiver harder. Something about the possibility wakes me up. I don't take my focus off it as the cold continues to sear through me.

The only thing that tears my eyes off it is when I hear Riggs state, "You look cold, pet."

I jerk my head toward him. "How many women wore this before me?"

Amusement fills his blue eyes. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, pointing out, "You've been in here three hours, and that's what you want to know?"

Anger suddenly replaces my anxiety. I seethe, "Was there something else I was supposed to think about? Did I not pass your test?"

His lips twitch. He steps forward, turns on the oversized tub, and adds bubbles. Then he moves in front of me and slips his fingers under the collar, grasping it, so his knuckles press into my neck. He reaches around my body. His warm palm grips my ass, and he tugs me tight against his frame.

A deep-rooted quiver rips through my core. He shifts his body, and his erection presses into my stomach. He murmurs, "Why didn't you yell for me to release you?"

Defiance floods me. I ignore the zings bursting through my cells and square my shoulders, hating and loving his arrogant expression in equal measure.

He slides his knuckles over my neck, and the tension grows, creating the same nervous anticipation I felt when he put his hand on my neck earlier. His lips move an inch in front of mine, and he challenges, "Is my pet a jealous pet?"

More humiliation fills me. I curse myself for asking him about the collar, but then I reprimand myself. I assert, "I don't care what's in the contract, Riggs. If I'm here, with you, no other women."

A mix of surprise and approval takes over his expression. He stays quiet, assessing me.

"I mean it. Promise me, or I'm going," I threaten.

"What did I tell you, Blakely?" he questions, lifting his thumb and tracing my lips.

I close my eyes, suddenly exhausted beyond anything I've ever felt and getting a new adrenaline wave brewing in my veins. I admit, "I don't know. I'm so tired."

He leans into my ear, and tingles burst where his breath hits my skin. He claims, "You're my pet. I'm in charge. You don't make demands."

My eyelids fly open. I turn to him, snarling, "It's not negotiable."

He chuckles, releases my collar, and slides his hands over my wrists, unlatching the cuffs.

"It's not funny," I reprimand.

He spins me, massages my wrists, then arms, and I close my eyes again, feeling the rush of exhaustion once more. His arm slides around my waist and pins me against him. He murmurs, "Relax, Blakely. I'm a one pet owner."

I glare at him in the mirror.

"What? You don't want to be my pet?" he taunts, cupping my pussy and arching his eyebrows.

I stay quiet, torn between wanting him to repeat what he did to me earlier and wishing I could go to sleep.

He chuckles again, then swoops down and picks me up so I'm fully in his arms.

I gasp, then stare at him in question.

He states, "You need a bath, Blakely. Your feet are black."

Embarrassment floods me. "Oh. Sorry."

He pecks me on the lips and then sets me in the warm bubble bath.

I sink into it, and a tiny moan flies out of me. The water feels like heaven.

Riggs picks up a washcloth, pours soap on it, then lifts one of my feet out of the tub and questions, "Why are your feet black?"

I open my mouth and then snap it shut. Maybe it's best if he doesn't know about my father's men. If he has his secrets with my father, then perhaps I should too?

"I asked you a question, Blakely," he demands.

I decide a half-truth is best and reveal, "I was late to the auction and didn't want to run in my stilettos."