Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

Chapter 18

18

ROMAN

I couldn’t pull myself away. The feel of Kaira’s soft skin under my fingers, the taste of her lips, the way her body responded so eagerly to my touch was overwhelming. I had seen beauty in numerous forms, but nothing compared to the electric connection that surged through me in that moment. My body was screaming with need. My dick was throbbing with want for this woman.

Every rational thought urged me to stop, but all caution slipped away. She was fire and need and everything I suddenly craved viciously. With every touch, every kiss, it was as though I was marking her as mine. The thought made heat curl even tighter in my gut. I was consumed by the desire to claim her.

She tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer, deeper. The sensation of her hands on me stoked the flames inside me. My hands explored her body with a mind of their own, tracing every curve and memorizing the feel of her against me. She was soft in all the right places. I just knew riding between her legs was going to be like climbing the stairway to heaven.

Her hips moved against mine, mimicking the act I was so desperate to complete. My hand slid lower, grazing the edge of her bikini bottom, teasing her. I could feel her heart racing, her body trembling under my touch. This wasn’t just desire—it was a blazing need that consumed us both. I pressed her harder against the pool edge, my hips pinning hers, making it clear that I was locked in.

“Roman,” she whispered, her voice a desperate plea laced with lust and longing. It was all the encouragement I needed. My name, falling from her lips, fueled my desire further.

I responded with a deep, possessive kiss, as if I could somehow capture her soul between our entangled breaths. Her fingers tightened in my hair, nails slightly scraping my scalp in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. She was everywhere, all around me, and I never wanted this to end.

“We need to stop,” she breathed out, her words contradicting the movement of her body against mine.

“Why?” I asked, brushing kisses along her jawline to her ear, delighting in the way she shivered at my touch. “Tell me you don’t want this as much as I do.”

“It’s not about what I want,” she murmured, her breath hitching as I traced a fingertip along her collarbone.

“But it should be,” I countered softly, pressing my forehead against hers. “It should be exactly about what you want. It feels good. This is just the tip of how good it will feel.”

She looked at me and I saw the moment the lust faded, and reality crashed in. She pushed against my chest. “I can’t,” she said. “We can’t.”

The moment Kaira climbed out of the pool and wrapped a towel tightly around herself, I knew I had screwed up. She looked at me, water dripping down her body, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“We can,” I insisted, using my arms to lift myself out of the water.

She stared at me, eyes wide. Her eyes drifted down my body. I knew she was feeling the same thing I was. I saw her staring at my rock-hard cock, standing proudly and unashamed, straining against my underwear.

“No,” she groaned, conflicted.

Then she bolted inside without a word.

I followed, dripping wet and without a towel, leaving a trail of water across the marble floors. I didn’t care about the mess, although I had to step carefully to keep from slipping and going ass over elbows. The rest of my focus was on Kaira, who was practically sprinting away.

As hypnotizing as she was, bouncing around in her towel, showing off her sweet curves, I didn’t want her afraid of me or uncomfortable around me. She had been meeting me kiss for kiss, as into me as I was into her—until she wasn’t.

“Kaira,” I called after her. “Wait a second. Talk to me.”

She stopped in the middle of the foyer, whirling around to face me, cleavage spilling over the top of the towel. Too bad the look in her eyes was nothing short of lethal.

“I need space, Roman,” she snapped, pulling the towel tighter around herself, hiding her sweet tits. It was like blocking out the sun. “I can’t breathe when I’m around you.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, confused by her sudden shift in tone. Moments ago, she’d melted in my arms. I had been seconds away from plunging into her wet heat, just like I had been dreaming about the last couple nights.

I knew she wanted me. I couldn’t get my head around why she was running away from me like I was the devil incarnate.

“This wasn’t in the contract!” she spat, her voice rising. “None of this was. I’m not your real fiancée. I’m not your real anything! We’re not going to do this. We’re not going to have sex. It’s too weird.”

Her words stung more than they should have. “You’re taking this way too seriously. What’s wrong with having a little fun?” I tried to keep my tone casual, but her reaction only intensified. I kept blundering forward regardless. “We’re under the same roof and we both want what almost happened. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I’m not here for fun, Roman.” She shook her head. “I’m here because you made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I’m here because I was broke and desperate and had just been fired because of that stupid auction debacle. I’m here because I have no other options—not because I want to be your girl, fake or real. This thing between us isn’t real. I don’t like you.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth to argue, but she wasn’t finished.

“You think you can do whatever you want because you’re rich,” she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. “But newsflash: not everyone is at your beck and call. I’m not one of your staff, Roman. I’m not here to make your life easier or more entertaining. I’m here because I didn’t have a choice.”

Her words were sharp, cutting through the ego I usually wore like armor. “That’s not fair,” I said, my voice tight with anger. “I’ve done nothing but treat you well. You think I forced you into this? You signed that contract on your own.”

“Oh, give me a break,” she shot back, throwing her hands up. “I’m not stupid. I know there’s nothing about me a man like you could possibly find attractive. And you know what? I can make my peace with that. But I can’t make peace with being used by a man who thinks he can have anything he wants.”

She turned and marched toward the stairs.

“Well, you can’t have me,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m not yours.”

I stood there, frozen, as her words echoed through the foyer. What the fuck?

No one ever spoke to me that way. And even if they did, I wouldn’t care. So why the hell did it piss me off so much? She was just the woman I was paying to pretend to be my fiancée. I should not care what she thought about me. I shouldn’t care that she didn’t want me. There were a thousand other willing women that would crawl into my bed.

I stormed into the study, my chest heaving up and down. I rarely allowed myself to lose control, but I felt my hold on it slipping away. It was shredding and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I grabbed a vase off the table and threw it against the wall. Red-hot fury bubbled up inside me, demanding release. The vase shattered, pieces scattering across the floor. Not the smartest move for a barefoot man but I wasn’t thinking clearly.

I went for a book and threw it. A stack of papers went flying as I swiped them off the desk. The destruction felt good, liberating even, but it did nothing to really make me feel better. I kicked a chair and then punched it, splintering the wood. My rampage spun out of control. I didn’t stop until the room was in disarray, until every ounce of rage had been spent.

Then came the shame.

I stood there in the wreckage, breathing heavily, my hands shaking. I could hear the sound of footsteps in the hallway—the cleaning staff, no doubt, already on their way to tidy up the trail of damage I had caused.

They would reset everything. By morning, it would be as if nothing had happened.

But the mess wasn’t just in the room. It was in me.

I went back to the foyer and caught a glimpse of one of the housekeepers hurrying away. With the rage fading, I was suddenly very aware of my state of undress. I stormed up to my bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to make the wall shake.

Kaira’s words replayed in my mind on a loop.

I’m not yours.

The conviction in her voice stung, getting right through the gaps in my armor.

There’s nothing about me a man like you could possibly find attractive.

How could she believe that? How could she not see how magnetic she was, how her fire and passion drew me in like nothing else ever had?

But maybe she was right about one thing: I’d been using her. Maybe not intentionally, but I had. She’d been a solution to my problem, a way to fix my image and distract from the chaos in my life. I had convinced myself it was harmless—that she’d benefit from this arrangement as much as I would. I had seen her as just another commodity. And wasn’t she right? Hadn’t I thought I could just buy her compliance and affection because I could afford to?

Why did Kaira’s words matter so much to me? Was it just because I wasn’t used to being denied? No, there was something else, something deeper that her defiance stirred in me. It wasn’t about ownership or control. It wasn’t frustration born out of rejection or unmet desires. It was shame, mixed with a raw vulnerability.

My mother’s face flashed in my mind, unbidden.

“What would she think of me now?” I muttered under my breath.

She’d raised me to be better than this. To treat people with respect, to work hard, to earn everything I had. She’d been my compass, even in death. Everything I had done—every deal I closed, every business I had built—had been for her.

And now?

Now it felt like the carefully constructed life I’d built was in danger of unraveling, one loose thread at a time. I hadn’t felt true emotional pain in years. The world I operated in didn’t allow for such weaknesses. Emotions were liabilities, best managed or entirely avoided. But here I was, pacing the length of my bedroom, wrestling with thoughts I had long buried.

Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, someone hadn’t backed down from telling me the truth about myself.