Page 57 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

PORTIA

I woke up with the taste of last night still on my lips. The taste of him and his kisses. And other parts of him.

I was in my own bed, which was fine. Last night, I woke up in his arms. I did my best to sneak out of bed with the intention of getting dressed and going back to my house. I didn’t want to do the whole morning routine thing. He didn’t ask me to leave, but I knew it was what we both wanted.

He woke up when I was halfway dressed. When I told him to go back to sleep, he insisted on walking me back to my place. I wasn’t offended he didn’t ask me to stay longer.

He had given me a soft kiss at the door and walked back to his place.

This was better. I was glad I wasn’t in bed with him worrying about morning breath and smudged makeup. I stretched beneath my covers, my skin still humming from Dean’s touch, the weight of his hands, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. It had been magical. And far more amazing than I could have imagined. I knew he’d be good, but damn.

The morning light had a way of making things feel too real, though. In the cold light of day, I couldn’t stop thinking about him and what last night meant.

I stared up at the ceiling. My mind wouldn’t stop racing, replaying every moment from last night. Dean’s hands on my skin, his voice low and rough, the way he’d looked at me like I was something worth keeping. It had been perfect. Too perfect.

What did last night mean? What did he want it to mean? And more importantly—what did I want? Dean was not the kind of guy who settled down.

I assumed. It wasn’t like we talked about it. Why would we? It was all about hooking up.

I threw the blankets off, got up, and walked to the window, pulling back the curtains to let the morning light flood in. The lake glittered in the distance. It was comforting in a way to be home. But sleeping with Dean added a complication. He was unpredictable, guarded, and complicated in ways that made my chest ache just thinking about it.

I’d always been drawn to him, even when he irritated me with his scowls and clipped replies. There was something about him—something raw that I couldn’t ignore. Last night had only confirmed what I’d already known: I cared about him. More than I probably should.

But caring wasn’t enough. Not when it came to someone like Dean.

He wasn’t the kind of man who let people in easily. Hell, he wasn’t the kind of man who let people in at all. I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I pushed too hard or expected too much, he’d shut me out completely.

Was I willing to risk that? To put my heart on the line for someone who might never fully let me in?

I bit my lip, turning away from the window to pace the room. Part of me wanted to run—to protect myself before things got too complicated. But another part of me wanted to stay, to see where this could go, even if it scared me.

Dean wasn’t easy. He wasn’t safe. But maybe that was what made him so intriguing. I never did the safe thing. That was how I ended up in New York. And look where that got me.

Last night had changed something between us—I could feel it in the way he’d held me afterward, like he didn’t want to let go. And it had changed something in me too.

I walked into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. I had brunch scheduled with Alexis. It was exactly what I needed after last night. I had to talk to someone who wouldn’t let me overthink this into oblivion.

I got dressed, putting on my usual shorts and a flowing blouse. I put on a pair of wedge heels and headed out. I didn’t bother looking to see if Dean was at home. I didn’t want to talk to him. Not until after I sorted through everything with Alexis.

As I walked to the café, I caught a lot of looks from townsfolk. The aftermath of the festival was still evident on the streets. There was a cleanup crew picking up paper plates, cups, and so on.

“Portia,” someone called out. “How is Dean?”

“What?” I asked with confusion. Why were they asking me?

“Is Dean okay? Was he burned badly?”

I didn’t really think it was my place to answer, but I also didn’t want them hounding Dean. I knew he would hate that.

“He’s fine,” I said.

“That was a wild show last night,” she said with a shake of her head. “What prompted Dean to put his life on the line?”

I forced a smile. “You should ask Dean about it.”

I wasn’t ready to admit that I knew exactly how he felt about it all. Even if I was, it wasn’t mine to share. They were acting like we were a couple and spoke for each other. I didn’t understand where they would get that idea.

“Oh, I doubt he’ll talk to anyone.” She laughed. “He’s not exactly a talker. They say opposites attract.”