Page 75 of Auctioned To Be Mine

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered. His breath brushed across my ear, sending gooseflesh covering my skin.

I dug my nails into his back and felt him shudder. He drove deeper. I felt him shaking. Or maybe it was me. The pleasure was intense. I didn’t think I would ever get used to what he did to me.

I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him against me. His hips snapped forward. Whatever restraint he’d been holding on to broke. His slow thrusts transformed into something harder and faster. The headboard slammed against the wall with each jolt.

I stopped being able to form thoughts. There was only him and the sheer pleasure rolling through me. It overwhelmed me, pulling me along with it. I came apart with my face pressed against his neck, shaking. He followed seconds later, burying himself deep and going still, his whole body shuddering once and then again. He grunted and gasped and barely managed to hold his weight off me.

Then he exhaled slowly and rolled to the side, pulling me with him so my head ended up on his chest. His hand moved in slow circles on my back. Both of us were breathing hard.

I would have loved to stay exactly where we were, but that proposal was going to haunt me all night. “I have to get up,” I said. “You sleep.”

He chuckled. “I better go home. I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You can stay.”

“I can’t,” he murmured. “I have to be up early, and trust me, if I’m here, you won’t get any work done.”

I laughed and sat up. “That’s probably true.”

I walked into the bathroom, cleaned up, and then put on fresh panties and an extra-large T-shirt. He was just putting on his shoes when I returned to the room.

He pulled me into his arms. “Damn, you’re sexy. It’s a good thing I’m leaving because I want nothing more than to toss you on that bed again.”

“Stop tempting me.” I walked him to the door. “Thank you for the coffee and pastries.”

“And the hot sex.”

I rolled my eyes. “Get out of here.”

I kissed him again and then returned to the mess at the table. I made a fresh pot of coffee and braced myself for a long night. It felt like I was back in college, finishing an essay at the last minute.

The coffee was cold by the time I finished the last section of the proposal. I didn’t care. I drank it anyway, standing at the kitchen counter at five in the morning in my oversized T-shirt with my hair piled on top of my head. My eyes burned and I could feel the exhaustion deep in my bones, but it was done.

I read through the whole thing one more time. It was good. Actually good, not just good enough. That was a relief. Every detail was all there. It didn’t look like I put it together in less than twenty-four hours. I saved it and emailed a copy to myself as a backup, then finally closed the laptop.

I could go to bed and try to sleep for an hour or two. But I knew how that went. If I closed my eyes, I was going to sleep for at least five hours. I had to be into the office at eight. I started another pot of coffee. I didn’t know how I was going to survive a full day, but I’d power through.

I showered, dressed, and was at the office before eight with a large coffee from the place on the corner. I had the proposal printed in a folder. I had found my second wind, maybe a fourth wind, and was ready for the day. It could have been the gallons of caffeine I consumed.

I knocked on Betty’s door.

“You’re early,” she said, looking up.

“I wanted to get the proposal to you first thing.” I set the folder on her desk. “It’s all there. Budget breakdown, donor outreach, and a couple ideas for the gala theme. I also included a preliminary timeline that gives us enough runway to execute without losing our minds.”

She opened the folder and started reading. I stood there like a student waiting for a grade. She turned a page. Then another. I watched her eyes move across the lines and tried to read her expression. She was giving nothing away.

“Sit down,” she said without looking up.

I sat. She kept reading. I drank my coffee and tried not to fidget. I was a little wired. Betty turned the last page and closed the folder.

“This is excellent work,” she said.

I sighed with relief. I thought it was good, but given my state of mind, I was worried I wasn’t thinking clearly.

Betty looked at me. “You look exhausted, though.”

I smiled. “I was up late.”