Five thousand!
“I’ll give you seven.” Bree’s head whipped to a voice in the corner. She couldn’t see from where it came.
“Eight.” She jerked to the left. A woman’s voice. Crap.
“Ten thousand.” Back to the right. Carson.
Carson?
He grinned at her. Her chest heaved. Oh, fuck…
“Twelve,” came the voice from the shadows again.
Sonofabitch!
Grace Walker twittered in delight beside her. Bree scowled and clenched her fists. What in the world was she going to have to do to earn this much money?
“Fifteen thousand.” Carson put in.
“Twenty.” The woman again.
“Twenty-five,” came from the corner.
The crowd jittered, individual heads rotating back and forth, straining to see the man in the shadows who was topping every bid made. After a moment, they all turned their attention back to Carson.
As did Bree. Her guts trembled.
Carson grinned. “Thirty thousand,” he said coolly and winked.
The room fell silent. Waiting. Anticipating the countering voice from the back of the room, or from the left. But one never came.
Her chest was tight from holding her breath for too long.
Grace Walker stepped between Carson and Bree, and it seemed the entire room exhaled. As did Bree. Finally. “Thirty thousand dollars! Oh, my! Going once. Twice. Sold!”
The dizzying thought Bree had at that moment, was that her roughly seven hundred dollars in tips seemed mighty paltry. Why in the hell had she spent all night on her feet-in these heels!-to bring in tips if this was going to happen?
I’m killing Ginger…
Grace hugged Bree who stood stiff and unmoving, eyeing Carson, who appeared quite pleased with himself. He stepped up and shook Grace’s hand, then reached for Bree’s elbow. “Come with me,” he whispered.
The crowed oohed and clapped. Bree tried to shut them out.
Behind her, she heard Grace begin the bidding on Ginger. She hoped Ted had deep pockets, if he expected to get any tonight.
Her hand felt small and warm in Carson’s as he led her out of the room and into a low-lit hallway. Immediately, she felt flushed. They walked in silence for a few seconds, the only sound was Bree’s boot heels making a soft click on the tile floor.
“Where are you taking me,” she finally said. Her tummy was filled with a thousand butterflies. What was in store for her?
“Just down here. So we can talk.”
They passed a fully decorated Christmas tree, a few artsy structures, and some pottery on their way to…wherever. She supposed they needed to iron out the deals of her twenty-four hour servitude. “Okay, so what is it you have in mind for me, boss man?”
He didn’t answer. They turned a corner and faced massive, carved, double oak doors. They swung open with ease as he turned the knobs and led her into the room.
Bedroom. A very large bedroom.
A very large and masculine chamber of love was more like it.
She stopped short. “Um, Carson. I don’t think this is what the shelter people had in mind when they thought of this slave auction thing…” Although she had to admit, glancing about, that the room intrigued her.
“No worries, love,” he said, “We’re just in a holding pattern here for a moment, so to speak.”
He led her further into the room.
A huge oak bed, which echoed the carved design of the doors, sat regally in the center of the room. Four oversized posters anchored the piece of furniture, set up on a two foot tall bed frame, also made of solid oak. The headboard was the crowning jewel, with ornate carved gargoyles, animals, and nude figures, cutting deep grooves into the wood.
A red fur bedspread with gaudy six-inch gold fringe was draped over the mattress. Low lights were scattered about the room lending shadows and a golden glow. Candles flickered in the off places where the lamp light didn’t reach. The sweet smell of roses and the spicy hint of patchouli met her nose.
Still grasping her hand, the butterflies in her stomach flapping wildly now, Carson led her across the room to the gigantic bed. His large hands went to her waist, and he hoisted her up on it.
“Carson…”
“Just one second, love.”
Before she realized it, he’d nestled her back into the fluffy pillows on the bed, and had grasped her left hand firm in his own. In a flash, that wrist was bound with a leather strap and he reached behind her to thread the other end through a large eyebolt embedded in the wood-something that she had not noticed before this-and pulled it taut and secured it with some sort of knot. Still moving swiftly, and reaching over her, he quickly bound her right wrist, as well.
All Bree could do was look up into Carson’s eyes in wonder and imagine the puzzled look on her own face.
“Um, Carson. I don’t believe this is necessary. I’m not exactly sure what you have in mind for the next twenty four hours, but… Normally I’m pretty much of a pushover when it comes to sex so, you know, I can be a sure thing. Of course, I know that we’ve not even talked about that, but…”
“My apologies, sweetheart,” he pushed back from the bed, hands on his hips, “but I can’t risk you slipping away on me while I tend to something.”
“You’re asking an awful lot for the thirty grand, aren’t you?”
He snickered. “Sorry honey. I’m not asking for anything. I didn’t buy you for me.”
“What?”
Stepping back from the bed, he said, “Wait here.” Then starting for the door, he came up quick, snapping his finger.
“Like I have a choice?”
Turning and tossing back that oh-so-sexy grin of his again, he replied, “No love, you don’t. Not for the moment. But remember, I did buy you, and the deal was twenty-four hours to do my bidding.”
“I didn’t sign any deal.” She tugged at the leather strap with her right hand. Hm. Pretty darned secure.
“No, but your lovely business partner did.” He glanced at the door. “Remember, it’s for the shelter. I’ll be right back,” he added.
For the shelter.
Somehow, she didn’t think Grace Walker had this in mind when she proclaimed her sold for thirty thousand dollars.
Holy shit! He’d paid thirty thousand big ones! For her.
Bree wiggled against the straps and curled her upper body toward the foot of the bed. “Wait!”
But he was gone, although only for a minute. He returned with a handful of tinsel garland, obviously snatched from the Christmas tree down the hall.
“Here love.” Working to untangle the tinsel, he wove them into the leather straps at her waist. Then stepping back and admiring his handiwork, he must have decided she needed to look even more festive than she already did, for he draped tinsel over her body, her arms, breasts, thighs…
“I am not a Christmas package, Carson.” When would this charade be over?
Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against her cheek and moved to her ear. His body heat radiated, warming her from chest to her toes. The caress was nearly her undoing. Since she couldn’t resist much, or push him away, it only excited her more. Shit. He lingered, his hot breath on her ear. “Oh, but sweetheart,” he sexy-slurred the words, “you are just that. A beautiful Christmas present all wrapped up and waiting.”
Her chest lifted and fell and the bed shifted with his weight. The tension between the two of them was palpable. The fine hairs on the side of her cheek were erect and sensing his nearness. Finally, ever so slowly, Carson pulled back far enough to fasten his gaze into hers and hold. She watched the deep blue depths of his eyes flicker and reflect the gold hues of the room.
“Damn…” he said, then abruptly pulled back. His steps toward the door were assured and quick.
“Carson.” She let his name slip off her tongue, not sure why or what she wanted from him.