Page 102 of The Heiress Auction

Memories from last night flash through my mind.

I huff out a sigh. That wasn’t my best idea, kissing Katherine before I’d even said hello.

I knew it then. But that hadn’t stopped the insane urgency to claim her. It was like a darkness had surrounded me, pushing me to her, pulling her to me, demanding and unyielding. I’ve never been a possessive guy. Protective, sure. I’ve got four sisters. But that overwhelming urge to bind someone to me, to blot out the rest of the world.

That was all new.

And strangely exciting.

But that excitement had dimmed the second Katherine had pulled away, a wounded look clouding her eyes.

“Bloody hell.” I rub my face with my hands and sit up.

Right. Ford and Sutton practically had to haul me up to the guest room after my drinking binge. I close my eyes and sigh. That’s so embarrassing.

I pat the linens, looking for my phone because I’m pretty sure I spammed the heck out of her texts. What are the chances she’s forgiven me already?

Holding my breath, I navigate to the messaging app.

No new messages.

And she left me on read.

Oh hell. What did I say last night?

I’m not going to look. Not yet.

After making a pit stop in the bathroom, I creep down the stairs, my steps softened by the thick runner. The place is casual elegance with nods to the coastal location and the Montgomery’s love of all things equestrian.

I haven’t held this tight to a railing since I learned to walk. I’m far more likely to slide, or heck, skate down one. But my knees feel weak. How much did I drink?

Safely on the ground level, I release the handrail. There’s a large painting of a gray horse over the fireplace. All soft creams and earthy neutrals that give the beast an ethereal quality. Those same colors are repeated throughout the room, with hints of navy accents.

It’s easy to see why Katherine loved it here. The view is incredible, and the home is gracious and welcoming, with lots of cozy corners. I bite the inside of my lip, praying to any deity who will listen. I hope against hope that I didn’t leave a negative memory for her. She has so few safe spaces.

Voices beckon from the other side of the house. Soft light streams in, bathing the living room in warmth. A bitter aroma teases my nose, and I follow a long runner to the kitchen.

“There he is.” Ford’s voice is nauseatingly chipper. “How’s it going, sleeping beauty?”

I give an unintelligible grunt of pain and poor choices. The two men snicker because we’ve all been there, right?

Sutton moves to the fancy coffee maker, a brow raised in question. There are way too many levers for a brain this hung over to make sense of, so I nod. “Please and thank you.”

Leaning against the counter, I shove the heel of my other hand between my eyes, wishing I could press away the pounding. “I’m never doing that again.”

“Kissing my sister?” Ford quips. He props a hip against the large center island and lifts a mug to his lips.

“Getting that drunk.”

“That was tough to watch,” Sutton says, manning the machine with ease. It gurgles and sputters, and the rich brew perfumes the air.

My stomach grumbles.

“To be fair, I tried to cut you off, but you weren’t having it,” Ford adds.

“Thanks for that. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

Hands braced against the thick stone countertop, I hang my head. Sutton slides a mug of coffee across the surface into my line of sight. I grunt my appreciation.

---