Page 15 of Auctioned

My thumb rubs the screen where Ophelia sleeps. Sadly, my body doesn’t care for rules, legacies, or restrictions. My goddamn heart is a rogue motherfucker.

Ophelia is to blame for that. Has been to blame for that from day one.

At five feet two, my son’s girlfriend carried herself as if she were taller than both of us. Shoulders relaxed. Dark eyes facing me. Thick, black hair cascaded down her ramrod-straight back.

The black silk dress that enveloped her lean body didn’t look as old as I was sure it was. She pulled it off magnificently. Any designer would’ve begged her to model for them.

Her cheeks flushed, but she stared me down, regardless.

Her beauty was dark and not in a skin-deep kind of way.

Bone-deep.

With Topher’s hand on the small of her back—which had my jaw ticking and my fist clenched—Ophelia was ushered toward me. Her gait was confident, her heels barely making a sound on the wood floor.

Floating.

Our gazes locked.

“Dad.” Topher’s voice was distant. A murmur from another room. Universe, even. “This is my girlfriend, Ophelia Monroe.”

I outstretched my hand for her. Needed to touch her more than anything.

The one thing our families hadn’t allowed. You could fuck a woman, use a woman, then dispose of her.

Needing a woman had been forbidden. Going against it would’ve resulted in my death sentence.

I needed her anyway. It was the first time I had my eyes on her, in person, and Ineededher.

She placed her hand in mine.

So small. Delicate. Soft.

“James Hawthorne. A pleasure to have you here, Miss Monroe.”

“Ophelia, please.”

A quick shake and a small smile from her. I pulled my hand back and never touched her again.

Until tonight. Until my hand was on her wrist. My cock strained my pants.

Then there was this craving for her. The fierce need that chipped at my sanity.

God, I can’t ever think like that. About keeping her.

What an absurd idea. It’s the third time tonight that I have to push it out of my head.

What for? I’m not built for a relationship. For love.

Warm, fuzzy emotions. None of that for me.

I want her.

No. No. What I’m feeling is obsession. It’s been plaguing me for a month, and now that I have her here, it’s more potent than ever.

It’s never been like this while I’ve been stalking her over the last month. Outside her home. When she took the subway.

She’s here. Finally mine.

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