The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(36)

I stare at myself harder.

Riggs's voice flares in my head, "Don't ever doubt again how much I want you."

My butterflies take off again, and I take a deep breath, feeling in my heart that we've turned a corner.

Can this be real between us? Can this year-long contract just be a catalyst for our future together?

What am I doing? I need to stop these thoughts.

My face flushes, thinking about what I just did with him—something I thought I would never do with anyone.

I didn't like it.

I loved it.

Every moment of Riggs inside me, holding me close to him, kissing me like I was his possession and he couldn't get enough, was beyond my expectations. I never came close to imagining what he was capable of doing to me or how every sensation in my body would come to life in ways I didn't know were possible.

It has to be real between us.

Or is he like this with everyone?

Is being with me similar to what it's like for him to be with other women?

Muffled voices tear me out of my disturbing thoughts, which is good. I don't need to go down this road.

I leave the bathroom. Two sets of identical outfits are on the bed. One is a size six, and the other is a size eight. Each set is a designer pair of white silk shorts and a thin cashmere sweater. A delicate gold lace bra and matching thong sit next to it.

A pair of flip-flops and a pair of stilettos sit on the bed. A note is next to them.



Pet,



Which one do you think I want you in right now? Choose wisely.



Riggs





I stare between the note and shoes, my butterflies kicking off in nervousness and anticipation, unable to decide which pair to choose.

Plus, I haven't worn anything luxurious or designer since I left my father's house. Everything I buy is from thrift stores or no-return clearance racks, as I was just trying to survive in L.A.

I drag my fingers over the silk, then the cashmere, and finally the lace. I put on the size eight and leave the other set on the bed.

Which shoes?

More anxiety fills me, but a fire in my core can't be ignored. I reach for the stilettos, feeling ridiculous since we're in his beach house but wanting to feel sexier for him.

I can do this.

I can be better than anyone he's previously been with.

I step into Riggs's huge closet, perfectly organized with a row of designer suits on one side and casual clothes on the other.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror and assess myself, deciding I look hot and the stilettos are a good choice. The material of the shorts and sweater is thin, so the gold shows, but it's the current fashion trend and is meant to display a woman's undergarments and skin. I normally think see-through material looks trashy, but something about this outfit makes me feel sexy and empowered.

What will Riggs think of me in this?

I turn in the mirror and study my booty. I might be imagining it, but I swear I can see his handprint on it, with the gold separating the red marks on each cheek. I tug my shorts down and swallow hard. My heart beats faster as I assess Riggs's faint handprints and the gold lace glittering between them.

My cheeks were tender during our shower encounter. Riggs's fingers gripped me, controlling the speed of his thrusts, reminding me of how he spanked me the previous night. I loved it all. If anything, it added to my pleasure.

How can that be?

I gently touch my cheek and wince.

Why does it feel good if Riggs touches it but not me?

Men's voices break my thoughts once more. I walk out of the bedroom and freeze.

A piano sits in the corner of the room, perfectly positioned so the person playing can either view the water on the left or the living space on the right.

And it's not just any piano. It's a Heintzman & Company crystal piano. It sells for over $3 million. I know it well.

Well, I've never seen one. I've only heard about its beauty and seen it online. But it's my dream piano. I never thought I would get anywhere near one, much less be staring at one at a beachfront house I'm staying in.

Two delivery men and Riggs stand near the piano, talking, but I hear nothing. I continue gaping.

Riggs's firm voice snaps me out of my trance. He orders, "Pet, come look at your new piano."

Heat fills my cheeks. I've almost gotten used to him calling me pet. In some ways, I prefer it. The endearment makes me feel more like his. I'm unprepared to hear him call me it in front of others, and something feels unsettling about it.

He locks eyes with me as if he's waiting for me to dare to defy him.

One of the delivery guys shifts on his feet. The other ogles me, assessing my body, then stares at my collar until my cheeks are on fire.

Riggs sees it all, and his arrogant expression grows while his challenging gaze never falters. He sternly repeats, "Pet, come look at your new piano."

Wanting to get the delivery man's eyes off me, I lift my chin and step next to Riggs.

He protectively slides his arm around my waist and locks eyes with the guy who was inappropriately looking at me.

The man squirms as tension builds in the air.

"What do you think about the piano, pet?" Riggs questions, glancing down at me.

I smile, answering, "It's gorgeous."

He slides his hand on my ass cheek. "Not as much as you. Aren't I right, gentlemen?" Riggs questions, not taking his eyes off me.