Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

Chapter 17

17

KAIRA

T he day had been a whirlwind of luxury and unfamiliar splendor. Roman had been like my fairy godmother, only sexy as hell in his tailored suit. He took me from shop to shop in a surreal dream. From the soft slide of silky dresses over my skin to the attention from the high-end boutique clerks, it was all so foreign yet exhilarating. But now, standing in Roman’s expansive foyer surrounded by bags stamped with designer logos, I felt a tingling realization of the new world I was stepping into.

I didn’t know if I was cut out for this kind of life. My meager suitcase was among the bags. It stuck out like a sore thumb.

“So, uh, I guess I’ll take the bags to my room,” I said. “I can’t wait to get out of this dress.”

“We’re not done yet,” he said.

“I think we’ve done enough,” I replied, trying to sound lighthearted but failing to mask the exhaustion creeping into my bones.

I didn’t want to be alone with him. There was something about him that made me feel like I was dancing with the devil. I didn’t trust him. More like I didn’t trust myself. He had worn me out. The shopping marathon had been fun, but I never knew how draining shopping could be.

He shook his head, an amused smirk on his lips. “We need to update our socials. If the world is going to believe this, we’ve got to sell it. Nothing is official until we’re Insta-official.”

I raised a brow. “And by ‘sell it,’ you mean…?”

“Photos,” he said matter-of-factly. “Something convincing. Something that shows we actually spend time together. That all of this is real.”

“We could have taken photos at the restaurant,” I said. “Not that we needed to. I saw all the people trying to pretend they weren’t taking our pictures. Or there is the announcement you made outside your building. And the jewelry shop.”

He chuckled, the sound terrifying and a total turn-on “Oh, those were just appetizers. Now comes the main course. That is easy to fake, and people will definitely call us out for that. We need something intimate.”

The way he said “intimate” made my skin prickle. If he thought I was making a sex tape with him, he had another thing coming. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over to one of the bags and pulled out a tiny bikini. He held it up with a grin. The fabric was so minimal it might as well have been a napkin. I had no idea when that got in there.

“How? When?” I stammered.

“I have a pool. You’ll be living here. You’ll need a bathing suit.”

“That’s dental floss!”

He laughed, clearly enjoying this. “It’s fashion, Kaira. Haven’t you heard? Less is more.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. The transition from an ordinary day to this extravagant lifestyle was too abrupt. And now, he was suggesting—no, almost insisting—that this threadbare piece of cloth was a bathing suit? I crossed my arms, trying to maintain a semblance of control over the situation.

“If you like it so much, you wear it,” I declared firmly. “And I’m sure as hell not taking poolside pictures of myself and posting them to Instagram. I saw the mob after you. Those pictures will make it to mainstream media and spread around the world. My ass—literally—will be on display for the entire world. No thank you.”

Roman’s expression didn’t change. He simply placed the bikini back into the bag and shrugged nonchalantly. “Alright, we’ll revisit that one,” he said casually as he dug around. I balked in horror when he brought out another one.

This one, while marginally more substantial, was still less of a swimsuit and more of a suggestion. Its vibrant blue color was really pretty. He dangled it before me like a challenge.

“You must have something against fabric,” I muttered, eyeing it skeptically.

He flashed a cocky grin. “I think you’ll look stunning in it. And it’s perfect for a casual poolside photo. Very ‘girl next door goes Hollywood.’”

The thought of plastering such an image on social media made my stomach churn. “Or very ‘girl next door sells her soul,’” I retorted.

“Do I need to remind you of the contract?”

I wanted to throw something at him. Anything.

“No way,” I said, backing up a step. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes way,” he countered, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “We’re going in the pool. You can put that on or get in naked. I don’t care, but we’re getting the pictures. We need to sell this thing hard.”

Before I could protest further, he stripped off his jacket. And then he started unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

I couldn’t look away. He tossed his shirt onto a nearby chair. Any further protests caught in my throat as I took in the sight of him—broad shoulders, chiseled abs, and a confidence that was impossible to ignore. He shimmied out of his pants, leaving him in nothing but black boxers that clung to him in a way that felt borderline illegal.

“Your turn,” he said, nodding toward the bikini.

“I’m not—” I started, but the words faltered as he turned and headed toward the pool, his back muscles rippling under the low light. He didn’t even look back to see if I was following.

“I guess those abs are real after all,” I murmured to myself. I was tempted to take out my phone and snap some pictures to send to Carla. She had been the one wondering about his abs being photoshopped. They were legit but that was just the half of it. The arms. Back. His legs.

And the most exciting part of him barely hidden by those tight little boxers.

I still wasn’t sold on taking pictures, but suddenly, the idea of showing off my body to him was growing on me. I wanted to see what I could make grow on him.

With a deep breath, I snatched the bikini and disappeared into the bathroom to see if it even fit me. It took me longer than it should have to work up the nerve to come out. The thing barely covered anything. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some elaborate joke he’d set up to mess with me. I had a flashback to middle school when someone had switched out my gym uniform with one that was way too small. I had no choice but to put it on. When I walked into the gym with the shorts riding up and my belly hanging out, everyone laughed. That same sense of dread pooled in my stomach now. If he was doing this to humiliate me, I would never forgive him. I would never forgive myself for being dumb enough to fall for this stupid game.

When I finally emerged, I followed the sound of splashing to the pool. Roman was already in the water, floating lazily on his back. The water lapped gently at his skin, and his hair was slicked back, making him look like a damn model in a cologne ad. It was unfair that one person got all the good looks.

“Finally,” he said, straightening and turning to face me. His eyes roamed over me as he slowly treaded water. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression—something hungry. There was no way he was looking at me trussed up like a turkey, feeling vulnerable, and thinking I looked good. But he had that glint in his eye that suggested otherwise.

“Jump in,” he beckoned with a wave of his hand, as if it were the most natural request in the world. The water shimmered under the moonlight, and for a split second, the idea of cooling off didn’t seem so bad. But stepping closer to the pool’s edge, I hesitated.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You look amazing,” he said simply, gesturing for me to join him. “Come on. The water’s perfect.”

I dipped a toe in, then eased my way down the steps, hyper-aware of his gaze on me the entire time. The water was nice but it did little to calm the nerves buzzing under my skin. I couldn’t believe I was virtually naked in front of him. Talk about blurring the lines of our agreement.

Roman swam to the edge of the pool and picked up his phone. He started snapping pictures. “Just relax,” he said. “Pretend it’s just us.”

“It is just us,” I pointed out, though I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped.

“Exactly,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t need to worry about anything.”

Easier said than done. But as the minutes ticked by, I started to feel less self-conscious. Roman guided me gently, asking me to lean on the edge of the pool or let the water ripple around me. His compliments came freely.

“That’s perfect.”

“You look stunning.”

“You’re a natural.”

I started to believe him. For the first time in a long time, I felt… attractive. He made me feel pretty. And the lighting was flattering. I took comfort knowing my butt was under the water. My bit and boobs were mostly hidden.

At one point, he moved closer, lowering the phone to adjust the strap of my bikini, which had twisted awkwardly. His fingers brushed my skin as he straightened it. I found myself face to face with his chest. His skin was warm and damp, the ridges of his muscles so close I could feel the heat radiating off him.

My hand moved before I could think better of it. I placed it gently on his ribs, marveling at the firmness of his body. I supposed part of me was still wondering if it was all real. If there had been airbrushing, it would have melted away. His body was just as hard as it looked, like granite wrapped in silk. He stilled, his gaze dropping to where my hand rested. Emboldened by the fact that he didn’t pull away, I placed my other hand on him, just below his collarbone.

He put the phone down on the edge of the pool. His body was so close now. He cupped my face in his hands and looked into my eyes. There was a silent question in his gaze. I didn’t know how he understood, but he did because, a second later, his lips crashed into mine with a force that stole the breath from my lungs.

I sank into him, my hands sliding up to his shoulders as he pulled me closer. The kiss was desperate, all-consuming. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that sent heat coursing through my veins. One of his hands slipped to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him, while the other tangled in my wet hair.

“Roman,” I gasped when we broke apart for air. My heart was pounding, my chest rising and falling.

“If the world thinks you’re mine, then fuck it,” he growled. “You’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine that wrapped around and landed right in my lower belly. I barely had time to process them before his mouth found mine again. His hands roamed my body, slipping under the thin fabric of my bikini to caress my skin. I felt like I was on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

“Should we really be doing this?” I managed to pant between kisses, though my body betrayed me by pressing closer to him.

“I don’t care,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “I need you, Kaira.”

His words undid me. I melted into him, letting myself get lost in the moment. The contract and the expectations faded away until there was nothing left but the feel of his hands on me and the taste of his lips. The water lapped against our bodies as he deepened the kiss. My hands slid down his chest. I groaned at the contact. He truly was a magnificent creature.

Roman’s hands slid down my back and cupped my ass, pulling me against him. I could feel his erection against my belly. A thrill raced through me—I was making him hard. It was intoxicating. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer as we bobbed in the water.

His tongue swept into my mouth. I moaned against him, the sound muffled by the hungry press of his lips.

The smooth tile of the pool edge pressed into my back as he pinned me there. Roman’s kisses trailed down my neck, each one sparking fireworks behind my closed eyes. I tilted my head back, giving him more access, lost in the sensation. His hand moved from my hair, tracing a searing path down my spine and then around to cradle my breast. His thumb brushed over my nipple. I arched into his touch, a sharp gasp escaping me.

My body was wet in more ways than one. I could feel heat spiraling in my very core. Every touch set me on fire.