Page 18 of Wicked Auction

Christ.

She didn’t take it. It fell out of my pocket, and I didn’t notice. I just fucking spanked her arse properly for something she didn’t do.

After I bought her at an auction.

After she was kept prisoner.

My fucking god, I’m the worst of the lot.

I drop the belt and stand her up.

“You didn’t take the wallet,” I tell her. I might be a right prick, but I’m a McCarthy, and we tell the truth. “It fell to the floor.”

She stands in front of me, staring in disbelief as I pick up the wallet and slide it onto the table. The towel shifts. I adjust it. Christ, I barely know what to say to her.

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I thought you took it.”

She rubs her hands on her arse. It’s fucking adorable. “You made that clear.” She lifts her chin, and her lip wobbles.

I did that to her. I’m the one who deserves to have my arse kicked for that.

I reach for her, but she turns away, sniffing. What would I do anyway? Hug her? It’s useless at this point.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I thought you took it.”

“I know,” she says, her voice a little high-pitched and petulant. “And I don’t forgive you. I don’t know why you bought me or who you are or what your plans are for me, but I do know I’m starving, and I don’t want you to touch me again.”

“Right.” I sigh. “Get something to eat. I’m getting changed.”

I walk to the duffel in the living room and pull out clothes for both of us.

I dress, then lay out a few things on the arm of the chair for her. “You take the bedroom,” I tell her. “I’ll take the couch.”

She doesn’t respond, just sits and unwraps a sandwich in cellophane, then takes a tentative nibble, then another.

At least she’s eating.

I find my phone and sit, scrolling through it. No messages from home. I let her have the food without an audience because it’s the least I can do for her.

She opens a bag of something fluorescent orange and cheesy next, and now eats with gusto. “Do you have anything to drink?” She doesn’t meet my eyes. Doesn’t look like someone who just got her arse spanked for no reason.

“Aye, we’ve got water and Guinness in the fridge.”

She goes to get them, but I shake my head. “Sit. I’ll get it. What do you want?”

“One of each.”

As I get them for her, she leans back in her chair, content, after half a sandwich and a handful of cheesy curls.

She tries to open her Guinness but struggles. I take it from her without asking. My fingers brush hers when I hand it back, and she pulls away fast, like the contact surprised her. As if she'd forgotten she was allowed to be surprised by things.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that.” She takes a long pull from the bottle and sighs with contentment. “And honestly, I don’t understand why you bought me at an auction, but you’re more upset about giving me a spanking I didn’t deserve. Comparatively, buying an actual human is a lot worse.”

She’s not wrong.

I open a bottle of my own and take a long pull. I don’t answer her because the honest answer is that I understand it completely, but I’m not giving her that.