Auctioned to the Billionaire

A dozen emotions cross her features, but she settles on a look that borders on shame and anger. “I’m a hypocrite,” she whispers, her shoulders slumping forward. “A big fucking hypocrite. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t come for your apologies, Flick. I came for you.” She’s crying now, so I skim my thumbs over her cheeks, massaging her tears into her soft skin. Stuffing the paperwork back into the envelope, she pushes it toward me and I cock an eyebrow. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I can’t take this from you, Jax.” She wipes the backs of her hands across her cheeks. “I can’t…”

“It’s yours. You earned it. I want you to have it.”

“I can’t,” she says, fisting her hands.

I kneel in front of her and bring her face to mine, kissing her hungrily. I still remember how adamant she was about not taking the painting, but I don’t mind convincing her. This time, I’ll convince her so good she won’t dream of returning anything to me again.

“It’s yours. I’m fucking yours, Flick. And you’re mine.”

“I don’t understand. I was an asshole to you. Why would you want to do this for me? Why would you want to do anything for me?”

“You’re my asshole,” I correct with a smirk. And then, I say four words that make her face flush the sexiest shade of pink. “I love you, Felicity.”

When things ended with Jessica, I’d watched her leave with zero emotion other than irritation at her dramatic meltdown that ruined half my suits. I was ready for my ex-wife to fuck off months before it actually happened. Watching Felicity go, however, had torn me apart. It had been my plan all along to give her that building, but not telling her about my deal with her father nearly cost me everything. Little Flick belongs to me—she’s mine and no other man’s.

“I want you to have the building because I love you,” I say. “Because it makes you happy.”

Her breath quickens and she blinks rapidly. “What? You barely even know me.”

“And like I told you that first day in my office, I don’t give a fuck. I love the way you taste. The way you smell like peaches and vanilla. The way you laugh. The way you claw my back when I’m inside of you.” I stroke the pad of my thumb over her glossy lips, causing her to exhale onto my skin.

“I love how pure and innocent you are, even when you’re hitting me. I love you. I don’t care how long I’ve known you—I knew Jessica for five years before I asked her to marry me, and look how that turned out. I want to wake up next to you every morning and put my babies in your belly. I want you and I won’t give up until I have you.”

Felicity’s eyes are wide with shock as she processes everything I’ve told her. That I adore her—the beautiful girl I would’ve given anything to taste first. That I want a life with her beyond the virginity contract that brought us together. That I want her knocked up, carrying my babies and protecting them just as fiercely as she does everyone else. Fuck, I want her.

“Oh god, Jackson,” she whispers, and the deluge starts. Tears trickle down her cheeks, and it scares the shit out of me. I’ve never been afraid of a woman’s reaction to my words, but Felicity’s always been different. She makes me feel things I didn’t know exist, and for the first time in my life, I hold my breath and wait to hear someone else’s terms. “I love you too,” she struggles out at last.

My shoulders sag in relief, but my voice takes on a taunting tone when I turn her own words against her. “You barely even know me, Little Flick.”

“Fuck you, Jackson,” she laughs, showering my face with kisses and telling me again that she loves me. It’s a turn on—fuck, everything Flick does is a turn on. These past few days without her have wreaked havoc on everything from my sleep pattern to my cock, and I’m anxious to show her just how much I’ve missed her. I hook my fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans and drag her to the edge of the couch.

“Ohhh! What are you doing?” she gasps.

“Fucking you.”

“I can’t.” She shakes her head rapidly and glances down worriedly at the clothes she wore to work. “I mean, we can’t. I need to shower so I won’t be all sweaty and—”

I growl at her excuse. I don’t think there’s anything she could do to herself to make me want her any less, but I also want her to be comfortable. I open the button of her jeans, cocking one eyebrow when she grasps my wrist. “If we do this in the shower, will you be quiet and just … enjoy?”