Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(11)

Another roguish smile, making me wonder what that dimple on his cheek will look like without his beard. “Appreciate you letting me clean up here.” He turns to head into the shower, and I stop him.

“Wait. James. Wait. Stand there. Don’t. MOVE. Let me look at you again.”

Facing me, he narrows his eyes, standing still for me to walk up to him and slide my eyes up and down his frame.

Trying to ignore the odd little boil running through my veins, I assess him as clinically as possible. Taking in his pros, his cons, everything about him. Needs a little shave. Nicely built. Mmm. Very nicely built. And I bet he’d be a bargain too. I could probably save some money by offering him less. I mean, he nearly killed himself for $500. Men like him have no shame.

“Do you have a screw loose or something?” he growls softly.

I jerk my eyes up. Okay. I’ll start the bidding at one hundred. He’ll probably lap that up.

We will have our work cut out for us, though. It’ll take time. I’ll need to buy time—but it will be worth it. Because underneath the daredevil there’s something terribly mesmerizing, and I can’t wait to discover it.

I will take on the near-impossible task of turning this guy into the most perfect man the world has ever seen—I just need to control my attraction to him in the process.

Jimmy

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t think I’d be finishing up the day in a place as swanky as this one.

But wouldn’t you know it? My life’s full of adventure.

Fuck, everything is white here. The walls, the carpets, the sofas, the towels. I hope she pays her housekeeper a mint.

I’m the only smudge in the place. Knew that much when I saw the way the doormen were looking at me. Like I ain’t even human.

I check the mirror to find the markings of a fresh bruise on my cheek. Denny’s lucky. I should’ve knocked his teeth out tonight. I probably would’ve if it hadn’t been for Elizabeth.

Hell, I should’ve knocked him out anyway.

That guy? What a bastard.

I yank a bath towel from the linen closet and place it on the vanity before entering the walk-in shower. The light-colored walls and ivory marble tiles are something I’ve only seen in movies.

This gigantic bathroom is larger than my bedroom. Shit, my whole house would probably fit in here.

As I work the shampoo into a lather, I think about Charlie again. Best kid in the world. He’s thirteen years old but looks about nine, and because of it, he gets his ass handed to him on a regular basis. Fucking Denny and his family of assholes. How could a grown man encourage his younger brothers to bully a kid?

Damn, it makes my blood boil!

Yeah, so I may have to pay Tim for the bar damage. The person I became tonight is the person Denny knew he could pull out of hiding. It was too easy, and I guess it concerns me.

It only took him a minute to drag my rage to the forefront. Was that the goal all along? I didn’t want a fight.

Hell, Charlie didn’t want this fight. Charlie ain’t into that. He’s such a calm, sweet kid that he’s paid very little attention to my tips on defending himself—and that concerns me too. He begged me to stay out of it, and maybe I would’ve, if Charlie could hold his own, but he can’t.

And he won’t need to.

He has me for that.

My mind turns back to Elizabeth. Hell, my mind isn’t the only thing weighing in right now.

Elizabeth Banks. The Elizabeth Banks. From the fucking newspapers.

Who knew that in person, she’d make my cock stiff as fuck? Who knew that I got off on the country-club set? What I’d give to run my fingers through that silken black hair, stare into those emerald-color eyes, and just screw around until morning light.

I stroke my dick, thinking of her sweet little body, the way her nipples spiked with just a bit of friction. If she gets cranked up over a little foreplay, I wonder what happens when she’s into an outright grind.

My hand tightens as I leisurely pump up and down. I close my eyes and think of her smile. Those perky fucking tits.

Damn.

What I’d do to earn my place in her bed. What I’d do to spread those soft thighs, clasp her slender hands, and find that easy late-night rhythm.

Hell. I’d probably fuck like a maniac and scare her to death.

I wonder then if she likes a lot of foreplay or if she gets right to it. Does she like wild sex in numerous positions, missionary, or climbing aboard and riding?

She seems so prim and proper. She dresses like a woman who’s in control, but she needs to let her hair down.

I’ll gladly help her with that.

On the drive over, she acted all timid and shit, but as soon as our lips met, she felt that chemistry. I felt the connection.

I should be hightailing it back to the house. Instead, I’m here in her museum-size shower, stroking myself while thinking of one hot piece of strange tail.

I stop.

She’s more than a piece of ass. I grit my teeth and revisit her earlier words.

Does she really have an offer for me, or is that some sort of pickup line?

If the deal is as good as she thinks, and I hope it is, maybe I’ll be able to provide Charlie a better life, a safer place to call home, and maybe even some new clothes. That shit doesn’t come cheap.

Rap. Rap. Rap.

I freeze. Dammit.

“Everything all right in there?”