Read Online The Bachelor's Promise (Bachelor Auction) by Naima Simone - Free Book Online Page B

bought it but placed the sculpture so that it was the first thing he saw when entering his home?
    Reluctantly, she dragged her regard away from the metal art to the increasingly confusing man standing silently beside her. As if feeling her gaze upon him, Aiden shifted his attention from the sculpture and met her stare. Her breath snagged in her throat.
    For the briefest of seconds, something other than his customary aloofness darkened his eyes. Something deeper. Heavier. “Healing,” the piece was called. Did Aiden need healing? If so…from what?
    “Why the tattoos?” he asked, his eyes dipping to her legs again, and when he glanced back up, she quietly sucked in a breath. Heat. Heat simmered in the emerald depths. Did he know it? Did he realize what he was showing her? Most likely not.
    Silence descended in the entryway, but God, it wasn’t quiet. It was filled with humming tension, with the screaming past, with words shouted but left unsaid. With memories. Of her surprised whimpers of pleasure, her pleas for more of his touch…more of him…
    “Why the sculpture?” she challenged.
    He studied her for a long moment before turning away and heading farther into the apartment, leaving her to follow. “Let me give you a quick tour,” he said. She remained standing there for several seconds, examining the strong, straight set of his shoulders, the unbendable line of his spine, his controlled but powerful stride. By the time he glanced over his shoulder, a dark-brown eyebrow raised, she convinced herself she’d imagined the flash of emotion she’d spied.
    He waved a hand toward one of the wide, low couches dotting the living room. “You can put that”—he nodded toward the box she cradled in her arms—“down there. They should be bringing the rest of your belongings up shortly.”
    “They” being the men he’d called while at her apartment to meet them so they could move her stuff into his home. On a Sunday.
    “No, thanks,” she said, tightening her grip on the cardboard container. “I have it.”
    The clothes, shoes, scant pieces of furniture, and even books they’d stowed in Aiden’s car she could relinquish for others to touch. But not her art supplies. Her graphite pencils, chalk sticks, gum erasers, sketch pads, oil paint, brushes, painting pallets, and small canvases—they were hers alone to handle.
    And though Aiden had offered her his place for her to stay, she didn’t trust him. The last time she had, he’d ripped the emotional rug out from under her, cutting her off and tossing her aside like she hadn’t mattered. He’d treated her like others had her entire life. She’d vowed never to give him that power over her again, but look at her now. In his home. At his mercy.
    Aiden stared at her, his scrutiny inscrutable but piercing. Heat crawled up her neck and inched its way into her face, but she still didn’t relinquish her hold on the box. The man who was far removed from a tiny house on Chicago’s South Side and now lived in a palace in the sky wouldn’t understand about clinging to a few small items.
    Finally, he released her from his visual grasp and indicated the expansive area with a sweep of his arm. “This is the living room. The dining room is to the left…”
    She struggled to keep her jaw from becoming unhinged as she followed him through his apartment. Apartment. Such an innocuous, misleading word for the two-level place that was bigger than most homes she’d seen.
    Unlimited walls of glass dominated the home. Even the bathroom offered a gorgeous view of the harbor. God, at dawn, the colors that must pour into the room… She swallowed a sigh but could do nothing about the twist of excitement in her stomach at the thought of waking up early tomorrow morning to try and capture nature’s beauty. Although, a painter’s palette containing those God-given colors probably hadn’t been invented.
    Aside from the living and dining rooms, he led her through a huge, state-of-the-art