The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(37)

Embarrassed, I hold my breath, unsure why Riggs is asking them.

Ogler blurts out, "She sure is."

Riggs's jaw twitches.

He slowly looks at the ogler, then questions the other man. "And what do you think?"

He nervously agrees, "Yes. She's very beautiful."

Approval fills his expression until he turns back to the ogler. He doesn't say anything for a few moments.

Tensions mounts, and the man looks like he's going to break out in a sweat under Riggs's dark glare.

I start to feel bad for the guy. I place my hand on Riggs's bicep and declare, "It's amazing but too much."

He waits another tense moment, then turns to me and replies, "I told you that in a year, you'll be way ahead of where you are now."

My heart swoons, and I blink hard. I'm not used to anyone supporting my dreams.

"Do you write music or just play?" the ogler asks.

Riggs's jaw twitches. In an authoritative tone, he asks, "Is there anything else you need?"

The other delivery guy clears his throat, stating, "We just need you to sign here." He pushes a clipboard in front of Riggs.

He scribbles his name and then points to the door. "Please wait outside for me. I'll be just a moment."

Confusion fills both men's faces.

"Sure," the one with the clipboard replies.

The ogler gives me a final glance and follows his co-worker outside.

Riggs steps over to the kitchen island. He reaches for a black leather notepad and crystal pen, then returns to me. "These are for you."

I run my hand over the smooth leather and open it. The left side is blank. The right has rows of staves, which are five parallel lines for drawing musical notes. I gape at it, overwhelmed.

Riggs waits for me to speak.

I finally lock eyes with him. "This is too much."

"I promised to take care of you as well as further your career," he states.

"But this...this..."

"What?" he questions.

I blurt out, "I always assumed you'd be a lot like my father."

Riggs's face hardens. He claims, "I'm nothing like him."

I add, "You're partners. I figured you have the same beliefs and would look down on my musical ambitions."

"I gave you that impression?" he seethes.

I shake my head. "No. I-I just assumed—"

"You assumed wrong, Blakely," he snaps.

I gasp, unprepared for his anger. "I'm sorry. My attraction for you should have made me realize you aren't anything like him. I didn't mean it as an insult. I'm grateful for everything. Really, I am."

His face softens, and he nods. "Fair enough."

I glance behind me at the piano, still shocked he bought it. I gush, "It really is beautiful."

He grips my shoulders and spins me toward it, tugging me against his hard body. His hot breath hits my ear, and he murmurs, "You know what's going to be even more beautiful?"

Zings fill my stomach. I tilt my head up, asking, "What?"

A sinister expression explodes across his face. His fingers trace my collar, then gracefully unclasp it. He removes it, then kisses the curve of my neck, murmuring, "Your upgrade."

"What's that?" I question, reach for his head, and slide my fingers through his thick locks, shivering from the touch of his lips.

He retreats, grabs my hand, and holds it to my stomach. I feel naked from the lack of his lips and collar.

He tosses it on the counter and dangles another one in front of me, dipping it between my breasts, then dragging the thick gold metal over each of my nipples until they're hard.

My core lights on fire. I whimper, grasping his thigh to steady myself.

He takes my hand and pins it on top of my other hand, warning, "You have a lot to learn, dear pet."

Confused, I lock eyes with him.

He orders, "Take a good look at your new collar."

I obey, studying it with curiosity. This one is more intricate, with different-sized rings around the entire band. It's at least three inches wide, whereas the other was maybe only two.

He takes my hand and moves it toward the collar, demanding, "Feel it."

I touch the rings, surprised to learn they aren't molded to the band when one lifts.

Riggs traces my jawbone, then turns my chin toward him. His dark gaze lights with fire. He asserts, "What's going to be even more beautiful is you, restrained in this, to whatever I choose, and begging me."

I swallow hard, whispering, "Begging for what?"

His lips twitch. "That depends."

Hot blood races through my veins. I dare to ask, "On what?"

He clasps the collar around my neck and spins me into him, studying me for a few moments, then finally replies, "On whether I'm punishing or pleasuring you."

My mouth turns dry, and I squeeze my thighs together. If his pleasure is like what happened in the shower, bring it on. If his punishment consists of spankings like last night, I'm more than okay with it. But I'm not telling him that.

He steps back and releases me. He picks up the notepad and pen, walks to the piano, and sets them on it. He grabs his keys and says, "Work on your music, Blakely."

I snap out of my shock, and he's almost to the door when I cry, "Wait!" I run over to him and toss my arms around his shoulders. "Thank you! It's my dream piano." I try to kiss him, but he turns his head, so my lips kiss the air. I freeze, and my stomach dives.