A Bid For Love (2 page)

As suddenly as he had grabbed her, Ryan
thrust her away from himself, and stabbed a hand into his hair.
Shaken to the core, she had turned and grabbed her case, her heart
screaming at him to try to explain, to demand she hear him out.
Instead he opened the bedroom door and held it for her. "Go on
then, get the hell out," he spit out, his light eyes flashing
angrily at her.

Holding the case against her side, Erika had
walked out as proudly as she could manage, blinded by her own
tears.

"I see you waited on me." Drawn back to the
present by his mocking words, Erika stood up and faced him head
on.

"Why did you buy that painting? You could
have had anything else in the auction, or in any other auction. Why
that painting?"

Ryan took a step closer to her, and Erika
could feel the heat coming off his body. Despite his business suit
and his high-class haircut, she could feel the baser animal in him
just beneath the surface.

It was what first attracted her to him, that
barely leashed intensity, covered by a thin layer of gentility.

"How badly do you want the painting?"

Erika ground her teeth at his ignoring her
question, but wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of
repeating herself. Nor was she going to answer him. She wasn't
about to hint at her desperation.

Her mother had promised her grandmother on
her deathbed that she would track down all the rest of her
paintings and keep them in the family, using the insurance money to
foot the bill. While not wealthy in life, she had had the sense to
get a sizable policy on herself early on, wanting to make sure her
children were provided for if she passed on while they were
younger. Habit had kept her paying the premiums.

The knowledge that her own son had sold her
prized possessions had eaten at her in the last few months,
destroying what was left of her once robust health. And now, with
her own mother having taken a turn for the worse, Erika was
determined she would have all of her grandmother's works around
her, if it was the last thing she did. She wasn't about to let Ryan
Carstairs stand in her way.

Putting her hands on her hips, she looked him
right in the eyes and asked, "What are you asking for it?"

She knew whatever it was, she wasn't going to
like it. Not judging by the smile on his lips. "I'll give it to
you, free and clear—a gift."

Erika waited, knowing he wasn't done yet.
Ryan was too shrewd a business man to just fork over two grand
without some kind of condition.

"After you spend forty-eight hours with
me."

Erika raised her gaze to his eyes, wanting to
judge the seriousness of his words. Forty-eight hours in his
company would seem a lifetime, but it might finally exercise him
from her life once and for all.

"There are a few conditions however. First,
it will be at my place. Second, you agree to submit to me
completely for those forty-eight hours, at the end of which, you
are free to walk away with the painting."

Erika could feel her eyes widening. If he
actually expected what she thought he expected, he was out of his
mind. After almost a year, he expected to drop back into her life
and her bed, without a moment's pause? She knew his engagement had
fallen through for him, but that didn't mean she wanted him back in
her life.

Mentally stomping on the flickering desire to
feel his touch again that ignited in the back of her mind, she
shook her head, wanting to scream at him that she wasn't his
plaything anymore.

But she couldn't. She had to do whatever she
could to get the painting back, and two days as his sex slave
wasn't anything she hadn't done before. She had spent an entire
week at his place once, dressed in a gauzy gown that hid nothing.
He had loved bending her over the furniture and slowly taking her
from behind, lifting her onto the table and feasting on her pussy
until she cried with the need to orgasm. His fingers had spent more
time buried between her pussy lips, or his cock in her mouth, than
any other man. It was a week in paradise, and one of her fondest
memories of him.

Looking up at him, she could see the wheels
turning in his mind. He knew, damn him. "Any other conditions?" She
forced herself to sound calm.

His nostrils flared. Erika could see the
pulse throbbing at the base of his neck. He knew he had her, now
all he had to do was seal the deal.

"Yes, one more. You don't talk, unless I give
you permission, but you have to listen to everything I say, every
last word."

Feeling like she was about to step into the
vortex of a tornado, Erika held out her hand for Ryan to shake. As
his larger one clasped hers, the heat of his touch sent shivers of
sexual awareness down her spine. Possessively he closed his fingers
around hers.

Pulling her even closer, he leaned down and
whispered a breath away from her lips, "I'll send a driver for you
on Friday at eight. Don't pack anything except for personal hygiene
products."

Erika pulled away before she could do
something stupid like close the nanometer separating them and kiss
him. Finding strength somewhere inside she hadn't known before, she
walked away from him, and didn't look back.

* * *

Unfortunately, by Friday she had lost all the
emotional strength she had gained and was a jumbled mess inside. At
the time, surviving forty-eight hours with Ryan hadn't seemed like
such a big deal, but now, with it nearing, she was anything but
certain. He really was everything she wanted in a guy, with one
exception—he was a cheating, lying, using bastard.

But just the sound of his voice could make
her cream her panties, let alone the touch of his hand against her
skin, pushing her to the bed and claiming her body, letting her
know he was in charge.

When they were out together, when they were
relaxing, or just hanging out, he had always treated her like an
equal, despite their economic differences. However, when it came to
anything sexual, he was in charge and they both knew it.

She couldn't count the number of times she
had looked at the painting of the two of them, staring at the look
of joy on her face as she gazed up at him, so perfectly rendered by
her grandmother's hand and imagination. While there was an oddness
to knowing the beloved woman had imagined her and her lover
together, it was something she had grown up around. Her grandmother
saw beauty in love and its physical expression, and it was her
strength and her sheer passion that had allowed Erika to so readily
accept submitting to Ryan, to letting him dominate her.

Her hands shaking, she fought the urge to
take another look at the painting, to torture herself with the
innocence she used to have where Ryan was concerned. She wanted to
call the whole thing off, wanted to deny him further power over
her.

It was too late to back out however. She had
already told her mother the painting, the last of the ones done for
former lovers, was being delivered on Monday. Glancing out the
window she saw a black limo pull up. The door opened and a driver
stepped out, the lines of his uniform crisp and perfect. Erika had
a feeling Ryan planned a driver knowing she wouldn't pitch a fit
with a stranger. He probably figured that by the time she got to
his house she would be resigned to her fate of a weekend spent as
his sex slave. Even if she wasn't, by not being allowed to talk,
she wouldn't be able to vent her frustration.

At the polite knock, Erika took a deep
breath, grabbed her overnight bag, and opened the door. The ride
was relatively short, although it could have been two hours for all
she knew. Dreading the forty-eight hours to come, the respite
before the storm would never be long enough. By the time the limo
pulled into the circular drive in front of Ryan's house however,
she had managed to calm her nerves.

It wasn't that she would mind the sex. He had
never let her down in that regard, never used her as means to his
own relief without considering hers. If she could separate the
emotions, a booty call from his talented cock was just what she
needed. It was the fear of falling for him again, of the intense
craving he generated inside of her, until he became a drug she was
addicted to, that made her leery of his intentions.

About a month after she had walked out, news
of the cancellation of his engagement came out. A few days later, a
letter arrived in the mail for her. After glancing at near perfect
handwriting, and lack of return address, she had shoved it into a
box in the back of her closet alongside all the gifts he had give
her. Despite her aching heart, she couldn't bear to throw away the
notes he had written her, the pair of earrings he bought for her
twenty-fifth birthday, the jewel collar with her name engraved on
it and the other things he had given her over their time
together.

The blast of cool air as the driver opened
the door brought her back to the present, and without needing to be
prodded, she climbed out of the plush interior and met Ryan head
on. He was standing there waiting, and a rush of arousal washed
over her body.

He was just as gorgeous as ever. Nose
slightly crooked from a fight his junior year of high school, long
legs encased in well-worn jeans, light eyes filled with laughter to
a joke only he knew the punch line to, broad shoulders, and chest
covered with the thin layer of a designer silk shirt.

Hating herself for responding to him so
quickly, she allowed him to cup her elbow and guide her into the
house. As the door closed behind her, he spun her around and let
her go. Standing just inside the door was a crate, the name of the
auction house across it in bold lettering. Ryan followed the
direction of her gaze.

"In forty-eight hours, you can walk out of
here with it. It will be sitting right there until then. If you
don't trust me, I will show you the painting."

Erika shook her head, "No, I trust you." She
could have bitten her tongue the moment the words were out of her
mouth.

Ryan cocked a sardonic eyebrow at her, a
humorless smile curling his lips. "If only that were true, but we
both know it's not."

Ryan moved away from her, heading into the
living room. Feeling off balance, Erika followed him, uncertain
what he had in store for her. As she entered the dark room, a spark
of light flickered off to her side. Ryan quickly lit the candle and
blew out the match. Using the long tapered candle, he moved around
the room lighting the others.

"Strip," he ordered as he moved about the
room, his back still to her. Shrugging off her coat, Erika slowly
pealed her T-shirt over her head and kicked off her sandals. Ryan
finished his task and turned back around as she was sliding her
jeans down her legs, baring her smoothly shaven pussy to the hunger
of his gaze.

He eyed her like a starving man staring at a
T-bone steak. Suddenly self-conscious, she gathered her clothing
and neatly folded it, needing some task to take her focus away from
his stare. As she set her shoes on top, Ryan reached out and pulled
the stack from her hand. "You won't need these for a while."

Erika closed her eyes as he moved away with
her clothing. Naked, she wouldn't be able to hide her body's
reaction to him. Nor would she be able to gather the sense of
shielding the clothing would offer. She was bare to him, in every
sense of the word, and Ryan knew it.

It was how he often had asked her to be. She
would spend entire weekends not wearing a stitch of clothing as she
moved around the house doing simple chores, or simply relaxing with
him and watching TV. Other times, he had expressed no orders one
way or another, and she would spend hours deciding just what to
wear, what would please him the most.

Shivering at the rekindled fires of her need
to feel his fingers stroking over her body, she forced herself to
remember the pain of finding out he was engaged. That he had lied
to her, and had been seeing someone else, using her as a "fling" on
the side. She often tortured herself, wondering if he had planned
on asking her to be his mistress. She could understand the pressure
of old wealth wanting to plan their children's nuptials. What kept
her awake some nights wondering was if a loveless marriage was what
his future held and she had known ahead of time, would she have
agreed to such an arrangement? Would she have set aside her pride,
and taken the scraps he could offer her, just to be with him?

"Are you hungry?"

Erika jumped as his voice sounded right
behind her. She spun around to find him leaning against the doorway
leading between the dining room and the living room, watching her.
Somewhere along the way to wherever he had taken her clothing, he
had removed his shirt and shoes, leaving him wearing only the
jeans. Glancing down, she noticed the slight tenting of the
material. A blush stained her cheeks as she looked up and caught
him staring at her, a knowing look in his eyes. Brushing a lock of
hair back from her face, she focused on a spot just over his
shoulder.

He had to have known the effect those jeans
would have on her. If fact, she would have bet on it. Ryan in a
tailored suit was gorgeous, but in relaxed clothing – jeans
specifically – he was almost irresistible. Despite their sexual
power dynamics, she had been known to jump him when he would come
into a room wearing just his jeans.

Forcing herself back to the here and now,
where he was waiting on an answer to his question she shook her
head no. She wasn't certain she could count a granola bar and a cup
of coffee as a meal, but it was all she had been able to force
down. Her throat had felt too tight to swallow anything
anyways.

Ryan stepped forward and cupped her chin,
forcing her to look at him. His head tipped down, and he pressed
his lips to hers, softly, tenderly. Erika wanted to wrap her arms
around his neck and lose herself in the sensation. At the same time
she wanted to shove him away and storm out. As his lips moved over
her cheek and down her neck, she tipped her head back, and just let
herself feel.