Auctioned By The Ceo

Chapter 5

“Next up for auction is the delightful Ms. Hannah Watson.” The Master of Ceremonies’ announcement

shook Logan out of his thoughts, and he smirked at little Hannah’s reaction. If ever there was a woman

who shied away from the limelight, which now quite literally shone on her, it had to be her. His little

dove looked so pale and fragile under the spotlight trained on her, it made him want to march over

there, wrap her up in his arms and take her away from all this spectacle. That impulse alone should

have made him abandon his plan. Logan had enough emotional entanglements waiting for him at

home, but the thought of anyone else gaining the right for her company rooted him to the spot.

"Up you come, Ms. Watson. I should add that we owe tonight's splendor to the fair hands of this lady. I

have it on good authority that this whole event was Ms. Watson’s brainchild, so let's put our hands

together to show our appreciation, shall we?"

Thunderous applause accompanied Hannah's progress onto the stage, and not unlike the nickname

he'd bestowed on her, she appeared ready to take flight. Her crystal blue eyes looked too big for her

heart-shaped face, and even across the room, he could see the wild staccato of her pulse in her neck.

Her impressive rack strained against the confines of her dress, her breath appeared to come in short

gasps, and she looked on the verge of a panic attack as the bidding started.

Logan hung back, silently amused at the way the bids stepped up rapidly. It seemed he wasn’t the only

one in attendance tonight who appreciated a real woman when they saw her. He barely bit back a

laugh when Herringey from accounts realized he couldn’t afford her.

“Going once, going twice, for five thousand pounds on the lovely Hannah. Do we have any more?” The

Master of Ceremonies raised his hammer one last time and waited. Just before he brought it down

Logan intervened.

“Ten thousand!”

A collective gasp went through the assembled crowd, and Hannah dropped her head and appeared to

be praying for divine intervention. Monique gave a very good and most unattractive impression of a

goldfish—he really would have to deal with her come Monday morning—while the silver-haired guy,

who had driven the bids up thus far, threw Logan a glance, and then shook his head at the Master of

Ceremonies.

“Sold for ten thousand pounds to none other than Logan Bryce. Thank you for your generosity and

come claim your date.”

Logan slowly made his way across the room, and by the time he reached the stage some color had

returned to his little dove’s cheeks. In fact, she positively vibrated in fury, and, sure enough, when he

drew close and nudged her chin up with his forefinger, the furious look in her eyes would have felled a

lesser man. Too bad for her that her outrage only served to make him harder. It would be such fun,

indeed, to tame the little spitfire in front of him.

“Shall we get out of here, little dove?” he asked.

“How dare you? I’m not going anywhere with you. You’ve set this up, haven’t you? Well, you’ve had

your laugh at my expense. I will not do this. I can’t. I’m not for sale, damn you.”

The words, delivered in a hissed whisper for his ears only, brought with them more of the subtle flowery

scent he'd noticed earlier. It wasn't a fragrance he could place. Certainly not one of the more cloying,

expensive perfumes he was used to from the women in his acquaintance. Hannah's scent was all her.

Fresh and light, it brought to mind meadows in the summer breeze, like the kind his brother and he had

played in when they were children. Long before Rick had been responsible for beating his wife into a

pulp. Long before Logan's own and far too painful brush with the women's refuge.

“Are you not, my dear? Yet, here you are, to all intents and purposes mine for the next twenty-four

hours.” He blocked the hand poised to connect with his cheek easily enough, and pulled Hannah away

and off the stage and their fascinated audience.

“Now, now, little dove, violence is never the answer. Isn’t that the motto of the evening?”

Hannah kicked his shin, and he cursed under his breath as pain shot up from that abused part of his

body.

She looked utterly mortified at her action, as confirmed by the words tumbling out her mouth.

“Jeez, let me go. This isn’t me. I’m sorry I kicked you, but for God’s sake enough of this.”

Amusement replaced his annoyance, and he chose to wind her up a bit more.

“That’s the oddest apology I ever heard, I have to say.” He didn't release his grip on her wrists. Instead,

he marched her backwards until her back

hit the wall, and using his considerable body mass crowded her in.

“It also changes nothing, and, besides, do you really want the charity to lose ten grand, because you

don’t trust yourself in my company?”

He grinned at her outraged gasp.

“You wouldn’t renege on your donation?” The breathy question shot straight to his groin, and he shifted

to relieve the ache in his balls.

“Maybe not, but are you really willing to take that risk, little Hannah?”

She opened her mouth to no doubt chew him out some more, but whatever she read in his expression

stopped her.

“Don’t stop protesting now. It’s rather amusing to see you fight this thing between us.”

“What? There is no us. Let me go. I’ll scream.” That breathy moan of a reply wouldn’t disturb the wings

of a butterfly, but it made him even harder.

He dipped his head and whispered the next words into her ear.

“You don’t really want me to let you go, do you?”

She gasped in answer. Hot little puffs of air ghosted across his jaw, further testament that she wasn’t as

unaffected as she’d like him to think she was. Hannah bit her lip, and the hand she had poised on his

chest to push him away curled into the lapels of his tuxedo, instead, and raising herself up on tiptoes, Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

she reiterated in kind.

“Yes, I do.”

His big shoulders shook in silent laughter, and she arched away slightly to glare up at him. It only made

his amusement deepen.

“I mean it. Let. Me. Go.” She accentuated every word with a tug at his jacket. He did just that, and she

would have stumbled had he not put a hand out to steady her. The minute she got her bearings on the

killer heels she wore, he released her, stuck his hand in his trouser pocket and pulled out a key card.

“Fine, have it your way, little dove. If you change your mind this is the key to my suite.” He held it out to

her, and when she took it smirked down on her. “Be very sure this is what you want, however.” He

leaned in and dropped his voice to that growly whisper guaranteed to get to the ladies. “Let’s be

absolutely clear about what I want. If you choose to use that key, you’re mine to do with as I see fit,

little dove.” He paused and traced the outline of her lips with his thumb. The urge to kiss those plump

lips drove him hard. What’s more she wouldn’t resist him. The subconscious way she leaned into him,

parted her lips, and her little tongue darted out to touch the tip of his digit told their own story. Such a

fucking turn-on.

However, there were too many people milling about, and they’d given the gossipmongers enough to

hark on about.

He smiled and cupped her jaw instead.

“I don’t do love. I don’t do commitment, and whatever you decide will have no bearing whatsoever on

your standing at work.” He nodded when she couldn’t seem to help her tiny jerk of reaction. “Neither

will I renege on my donation. I’m not that guy. However, I would very much like to fuck you, my sweet.

No strings, no promises, just one night of fun. And it would be fun, that I can promise you. So…” He

withdrew his palm slowly, and Hannah shivered at the loss of contact. “Over to you, Ms. Watson.”

Chapter Two

Oh, the man’s arrogance was infuriating and arousing in equal measures. The feminist in her wanted to

tell him to take a hike, but her inner hussy did her haven’t-had-a-good-shag-in-ages jig, followed by the

I’m-so-going-to-get-laid-tonight dance.

“I—that is… You can’t speak to me like that.” Hannah tried her best to ignore her raging hormones and

attempted to glare up at him. Having to crane her neck to do so rather spoiled the effect she was going

for here. Not so much righteous indignation at his proposition as pure, flustered, “take me, I’m yours”

female. Judging by the knowing smirk he wore, he knew exactly what lustful thoughts were bombarding

her brain right now.

Namely the two of them rolling around silk sheets, sweaty limbs entwined. Then again, he might be the

type to tie up his women, for all she knew. He certainly gave off that dominant vibe in spades.

“Can’t I, little dove? I think you find I just did, and why beat about the bush? I want you. You want me.

We’re two consenting adults, so let’s not pretend.” He bent his head so that his far too tempting mouth

was hovering mere inches over her lips. “Tell me you’re not wondering about what I meant by fun,

sweetie, and are getting nice and wet on whatever you’re imagining I might do to you.”

Hannah opened her mouth to protest, but nothing but a very unbecoming squeak came out. Logan

simply smiled and held out his arm for her take.

“Think about it. Either way, I need to make my goodbyes, so, shall we?” The gentlemanly move was so

at odds with what he’d just said to her, she placed her hand on his forearm without thinking, and he led

her back into the ballroom. The fact he headed straight toward Monique wasn’t lost on her. In her heels,

she had trouble keeping up with his long strides, and that was the only reason she carried on clinging

onto his arm like the proverbial limpet.

At least that’s what she told herself. This whole thing was unreal, and if it wouldn’t have made her look

like a complete lunatic, Hannah would have been tempted to burst into hysterical laughter. Not least,

because Monique looked as though she was sucking lemons rather than sipping a flute of the finest

champagne money could buy, as Logan approached her.