Page 29 of The Auction
I didn’t want to get too close to him, but I got close enough to punch him in the side of his arm as hard as I could. Then I immediately turned away so my back was to him.
“It is a big deal!”
“Because you’re a virgin?”
“Of course I’m a virgin!” I shouted. “Now, do something. Go to your room! Cover your junk!”
I expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. Just collected his clothes from the floor of the foyer and walked away. I bolted for the stairs leading up to my room and slammed the door shut with all the force I could. Then I did what I’d done every day since Herb’s funeral, since I’d been able to move the lock to the other side of the door, and bolted myself in.
The lock was nothing against his size, strength, and whatever abilities he had to unlock something that was locked, but it gave me an inch of protection and a mile of space from him.
The cold started to seep into my skin from my own soaked clothes. I pulled off my overalls, stepped out of them, and took off my panties and the long sleeved shirt I’d worn. I took off my bra and when I looked down my nipples were hard, little, brown buds. Darker than I remembered against the white skin of my breasts. Every inch of my body was covered in goosebumps and I realized I might have donebetter making my escape to the bathroom where I could take a hot shower and have access to a towel.
That’s when I heard the water turn on downstairs.
Oh, no. That motherfucker wasn’t going to use all the hot water before I had a chance to. Without thinking it through, I ran to my door and undid the lock. It would be a straight shot to the bathroom across the landing. It took a few minutes for the water to heat up, so I had time to basically race him for whatever water was in the hot water tank.
But as soon as I stepped outside my bedroom door I realized my mistake.
He was on the stairs. A towel in his hand. Faded green. I didn’t know why the color registered, but it did.
He was still naked except for the chain around his neck.
Only now I was, too.
Like a rabbit confronting its predator, I froze.
Our eyes locked for a second. In that moment I tried to see me as he saw me. Strands of wet hair coming loose from my ponytail were plastered against my face. I was pale skinned after a long Montana winter, covered in goosebumps and shaking.
Definitely not how I wanted a man to see me naked for the first time.
He looked down my body once, then shook his head in a small, tight motion, which would probably cause me insecurity issues down the road. Then he dropped the towel on the top step, turned, and walked back downstairs.
His ass was just there. Muscled. Tight. Defined.
It was how I imagined assess were meant to look, and, strangely, I didn’t feel as cold as I had a second ago.
Shaking myself out of it, I snatched the towel off the step, used it to cover myself and made a beeline for the bathroom. Again locking myself inside, as if itwould make any difference. The water eventually ran hot and there was enough of it to warm me thoroughly.
All I could think about, once I was back in my room dressed in my flannel PJ bottoms, heavy socks and a Riverbend hoodie, brushing out my wet hair, was that dinner was going to be awwwkwaaard.
“Did you do that on purpose?”I asked him, as soon as I sat down at the kitchen table.
It was his turn to cook, which probably meant pasta because that was his go to, but I liked spaghetti as much as the next person, so I didn’t mind.
He put the bowl of pasta, sauce, and ground beef mixed together in the center of the table and then set down his version of a salad, which was lettuce and dressing. Sometimes he added cheese.
He sat down and started serving himself. “Did I do what on purpose?”
“The whole getting naked thing. Then seeing me naked.”
He glanced up at me with a smirk. “Yeah, I timed you running out of your bedroom naked while I was dropping off a clean towel for you down to the second.”
“Wanting a hot shower was a likely outcome after being caught in a hail storm.”
He dismissed my conspiracy theory with a grunt. “How were you so certain it was going to hail?”
“Experience,” I said, and filled my plate with spaghetti and meat sauce. “And don’t change the subject. Is this some kind of ploy on your part? Like immersion therapy? Whereyou just get me used to seeing your junk and then trick me into sex?”
