Page 70 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

DEAN

Portia was sound asleep beside me, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. The crickets outside her open window sang their endless summer song. A gentle breeze drifted across my bare back from the open window cooling the sweat from our earlier passion. I turned my head to watch her, tracing the curve of her cheek with my gaze.

She had fallen asleep almost immediately after I finished. That made me smile. I fucked her so hard she practically passed out. That was an ego boost. I’d been with a few women that faked their way through sex. There was no faking there. That had been the hottest, wettest, most responsive woman I’d ever been with.

She was beautiful. Always was. But asleep? She was an angel. Soft lips slightly parted, dark lashes resting against her skin, her hair fanned out over the pillow. My fingers itched to touch her. It was so hard to be this close and not touch her. She’d rocked my world, and I was already craving more. I reached out and brushed my thumb along her cheekbone.

What the hell am I doing here?

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. Every time I let myself get close to her, my heart screamed at me to run. Danger. Pain. Caring about someone gave them permission to hurt you. And I’d spent years making sure no one had that power over me. I’d spent most of my life making sure no one could get close enough to cause me pain. Not the physical kind. I’d take that all day. I was talking about the kind of pain that tore at your very soul.

Losing my parents had carved something out of me, left me hollow in a way that never quite filled back in. Building my empire had been easy—numbers, deals, strategies. People? They were unpredictable. Messy. And most importantly, untrustworthy. I hated the chaos personal relationships wrought. And Portia? She was the messiest of them all.

And yet, she fit.

I hated that.

A sudden flash of blue and red light spilled across the bed, painting Portia’s sleeping face in harsh, unnatural colors. Frowning, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, padding to the window.

Two police cruisers were parked in front of my house, their lights spinning in dizzying circles. My stomach dropped.

What the hell is this about?

I moved fast, grabbing my discarded clothes from the floor. My hands fumbled with my jeans, and I nearly face-planted when my foot caught in the pant leg.

Portia stirred, blinking up at me with sleep-heavy eyes. “What time is it?” she mumbled, voice thick.

“Just after midnight.”

She propped herself up on one elbow, squinting. “Are you sneaking out?”

“No.” The word came out sharper than I meant it to. I didn’t want her thinking I was the kind of guy who bolted after sex. I jerked my chin toward the window. “Cops are at my house. Something’s wrong.”

Her expression shifted instantly, sleep replaced by alert concern. “I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“I’m coming.” She was already out of bed, yanking a hoodie over her head. She quickly pulled on a pair of pants while I put on my shoes. I was going to try and tell her to stay here, but it was clear she was going to follow me no matter what I said.

We hurried up to my house. The officers were just turning away from my front door when we reached them.

“Mr. Jackson,” one of them said, recognition flashing in his eyes.

My pulse kicked up. “Yeah. What’s going on?”

“We’re looking for your brother. Do you know where Seth is?”

Seth. My mouth went dry. “No. What’s he done now?”

The cop exchanged a glance with his partner before answering. “He and his friends have warrants for their arrest for the stunt they pulled at the festival. Took some time to get the charges sorted, but he’s being charged with destruction of private property by the boat owner, as well as reckless endangerment of a minor.”

Portia’s fingers slid between mine, squeezing tight.

I swallowed hard. “I haven’t seen him in over a week. He took off after that night.”

“If you hear from him, you need to call us.” The officer handed me a card. “He’s got a warrant out now. It will go a lot better for him if he turns himself in. If he makes us hunt him down, it will go badly.”

I took the card. “Yeah. Sure. If I’ll see him, I’ll let him know.”