Page 32 of Bidding For Her Curves

I don’t know if I’ve ever made so much noise in my life, but the two of us sound like a pair of wild animals.

I try to stop, to hold still, and let it wash over me, but something is making both of us move. Move with the other, to extend and heighten this feeling even more, and before I know it, we both collapse in a tangled heap, exhausted.

I fall forward onto Mason, my chest resting against his. I can feel his heart pounding against mine, his own pulse against mine as my body lies flat and hot against his.

Our breathing is fast and only slows after what must be minutes. I can’t even form a coherent thought, but the touch of his hands over my body as he caresses me gently bring me back to earth.

We don’t say anything, don’t have to. I know we can both feel it.

That something apart from me giving myself to Mason has also happened. I feel my mind formulating the thought, but Mason shushes me, by stroking my hair back from my face and kissing me.

We lie like this for what must be hours, with Mason still inside me and I must doze off at some point, waking at the same moment he does.

Both of us lifting our heads at the same moment, our noses almost touching, his eyes dancing with a new intensity.

“Hi,” he whispers, finding my hands again and taking them both in his.

“Hi,” I squeak, breathing in sharply as I feel another wave of pleasure course through me, my breathe shuddering until he kisses me again.

“You should’ve just done that when I came to your office,” I hear myself saying. “Would’ve saved a lot of time.”

We both laugh softly, and I feel my body shiver again as he moves inside me still.

“I don’t want you to have any more doubts,” he says.

“I love you, Jules. It’s us now. You and me.”

“I love you too,” I tell him without hesitation, biting my lip after hearing myself say that to someone.

Anyone in this life.

Not just anyone, Mason Thorne.

If I was able to move my legs, I might feel like running to the roof and screaming it to the world, but for now and forever, the only person it matters for me to tell is Mason.

“I love you, Mason,” I tell him again, and hearing him repeat it back to me, I know we’ll never be able to say it enough.

Not in one lifetime.Chapter EighteenMasonLying with Jules dozing on top of me, I know what real happiness is now. I’ve been looking for it my whole life, thinking it might be in material things or money… power.

But the idea I could feel this, all from sharing just myself with another person, the right person, mind you.

It’s incredible.

It’s amazing.

I’m the richest man alive now, and it has nothing to do with money.

I want to wake her up, just to tell her I love her again, but I also want to watch her sleep.

But I also want to wake her, find out everything there is to know about her.

There’s time for that yet, Mason. There’ll be plenty of time now.

Her lip is curled in a peaceful smile, and her hand twitches as she dreams her sweet dreams. Folded under her chin, it makes her look more like an angel than a woman now.

I guess I must doze off too, and when we do wake up it’s at the same time, and I get to tell her I love her all over again.

Something I know we’ll both never tire of because, like me, I don’t think Jules has ever had anyone tell her, let alone really mean it.

“What do we do now?” Jules asks.

I tilt my head in question, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“My job, the whole charity auction thing,” she says, and I watch a line form between her brows.

Too many thoughts about things that don’t matter anymore.

I sigh heavily and hold her closer, tight enough so she can’t ask any more questions just yet.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m more concerned about you thinking I’m plotting to buy the world and kick everyone out of it,” I tell her, half-joking but still feeling the burn of her reaction to that message.

“I didn’t know what to think,” she confides, and I have to agree, I still don’t know what to think about it all myself.

“How about for the rest of today, we just do nothing? I could use some jeans and a tee though,” I tell her, raising my brows and craning my neck to see my six thousand dollar suit crumpled on the floor.

“I don’t think my jeans would fit,” she offers.

“How about we grab a bite, maybe do some shopping. If you feel up to it?” I ask, secretly wanting to take her out. To show her off to the world.

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