âOf course.â She stepped back. âIâm sorry, Travis. Youâre right. I should never haveâ¦â
He hauled her into his arms again. He kissed her over and over, until she was clinging to him. âDonât ever apologize for wanting me. Donât you know how exciting that is, Princess? To know you feel the way I feel? I have a suite at the inn. Itâs where I planned on spending the night. Will you come there with me, and let me make love to you as if this were our first time?â
He waited for her answer, knowing that giving her time to think was a gamble. He was asking her to admit her need for him, instead of being swept away by it, but he didnât want her to come to him blinded by passion. Not tonight. Tonight he wanted to seduce her. Awaken her. And to know, after this, the only man she would remember would be him.
âAlex.â He ran his thumb over her parted lips. âI want to make love to you. Tell me itâs what you want, too.â
His answer was in the soft surrender of her kiss.
TRAVIS BARON stood in the wings of the improvised stage at the Hotel Paradise, a hint of defiance in the rake of his jaw, waiting to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
And wasnât that a hell of a thing for a man to be doing on a beautiful Thursday night in early June? Travis thought grimly.
He ran his fingers through his hair, then smoothed his hand down the lapel of his tux. He couldnât see the crowd in the elegant ballroom but he could damn well hear it, every feminine hoot, whistle and catcall. This was the crème de la crème of L.A. society, Pete Haskell had said. Maybe so. But they sure sounded pretty down-and-dirty from where Travis stood.
The wheedling drone of the auctioneerâs voice oozed from the loudspeakers like honey from a comb on a hot Texas day.
âWhatâm-I-bid, whatâm-I-bid, ladies, câmon, câmon, donât be shy, donât hold back. Win the man of your dreams for the weekend.â
Shy? Travis snorted. Based on what heâd been hearing for the past hour, the women gathered in the ballroom were about as shy as a herd of buffalo, and about as delicate in making their wants known. They cheered, they laughed, they hooted and hollered until the gavel came down and then they applauded and whistled until Travis figured the noise level was enough to have the riot cops bust the place. And then they started up all over again, when the next hapless victim was shoved out on stage.
Not that all the Bachelors for Bucks had to be pushed. Lots of them went willingly, grinning and throwing kisses to the crowd.
âHey, man,â one guy had said, after a look at Travisâs glum expression, âitâs all for charity, right?â
Right, Travis thought, his scowl darkening. But the guy with the smile had probably volunteered for this nonsense. Travis hadnât. And to make things even worse, the luck of the draw was sending him out on that stage last.
How, he thought, how had he let himself get talked into this mess?
âSold!â The auctioneerâs triumphant shout and the smack of his gavel were drowned out in a burst of cheers and applause.
âAnother one gone,â a voice mumbled, and Travis turned as a skinny blond guy stepped up beside him, his Adamâs apple bobbing as he adjusted his tie. âMan, Iâd rather be going for a root canal.â
âYou got that right,â Travis said.
âNow, now, gentlemen.â Peggy Jeffers, whoâd cheerfully introduced herself as âyour friendly slave mistress for the eveningâ when theyâd all been introduced, tweaked the skinny guyâs cheek. âYou just relax, go on out there and have yourself some fun.â
âFun?â the guy said, âFun?â
âFun,â Peggy repeated, and she put her hand in the middle of his back and gently pushed him out of the wings and onto the stage.
The roar of the audience sent the blood right to Travisâs head.