Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(35)

That’s okay.

Might have come on a little too strong over there.

But she looked edible when she opened her door. Her hair wet and tied in a bun behind her head. A little black dress hugging her form.

I didn’t sleep for want of it.

So I just went in and gave us both what we wanted.

Now, as Michael’s assistants go downstairs for another round of suits, I stick my hands in my pockets as I eye Michael.

“So, Mike,” I say, clapping my hands as I circle him.

The fact that I call him Mike makes him beam.

“You mentioned something about some dude . . . some dude placing a bet on Lizzy’s venture.”

“Oh”—he waves a hand—“LB is always wanting to be sure Lizzy fails in her father’s eyes.”

“But you don’t. Right?”

I gauge the guy, whether he’s Team Lizzy or not.

“God, never! I adore Lizzy. She’s smart, hardworking, warm, unlike that foolish, wicked . . . little bitch.” He shudders as if merely thinking about the guy gives him the creeps.

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much was the bet?”

“I believe it was . . . 100K. Sicko,” he mumbles as if to himself.

“So what do you say you get the guy to double up on his bet?”

He whirls from where he was organizing the suits by colors.

“Excuse me?”

“Get him to double up his bet to two hundred grand. Tell him there’s an anonymous person wanting in.”

Michael seems to be sweating from the excitement under his suit, licking his lips. “Oh my, I’m in love with you,” he says, waving at his face. “Count on it, James.”

“You two look cozy,” Elizabeth says as she walks in. She halts, surprised to find us whispering behind the suits.

Michael’s assistants stumble past the door, hurrying to continue with the setup.

“You know me, darling,” Michael says, his attention back on Lizzy. “Always trying to offer drinks, dinner, or dick to the hottest man around.”

I choke and slam a hand to my chest while Michael follows his assistants to the door and waves at me. “Don’t forget your declaration of love,” I tell the guy, meaning, Don’t forget our bet.

“Never!” he replies with a nod that tells me, I’m in.

I smirk when he leaves, my gaze sliding to a suspicious Lizzy. I prop a shoulder on the wall, watching her watch me. “At least he didn’t kiss me goodbye.”

“Or good morning,” Lizzy says, walking over to the suits. “Like me.” She shuts her eyes and groans, then laughs, her cheeks coloring pink.

When she drops her hand, our eyes meet.

And I want to kiss her again—madly. Fully. Passionately.

Talk dirty to her.

Get her worked up over me, with me.

Get her under me.

I just watch her try to find words, swallowing as she sets a hand on a suit.

“So, can we . . . start over? Pretend that didn’t happen so we can get back to business?”

She glances up at me. And damn me, just like the first time, I can’t say no to her.





SUITING UP

Elizabeth

My stomach is tumbling.

Nervous because . . . um, the IRRESISTIBLENESS-of-him thing?

The delicious-kiss thing?

All that six-feet-plus thing.

Yeah.

He’s just standing there, looking at me quietly. He said we can forget the kiss—but the look in his eyes. God, it’s so primitive.

He seems pensive, possessive. Predatory.

“Hold it right there.” I yank my phone from my back pocket and snap a shot.

James frowns.

“Exactly like that!” I say, snapping another one. Suddenly I can’t help but take a few more.

When I realize James is just giving me a look, I lower my phone and think of how silly I’m acting.

“If you wanted a picture of me, all you had to do is ask. You don’t have to go to all this trouble and pretend these are for the job.” His blue eyes gleam teasingly.

“They’re for the job, James,” I groan, shooting him a little chiding look.

“Uh-huh. What do you really want to do with the pictures?”

“Post on my social media accounts after the launch,” I tease. Really, what I need to do is send some pictures to LB to get him off my back.

“Will you tell your friends I’m your boy toy?”

“No, because you aren’t.” I’m frowning now, thinking of Jeanine.

“Not yet anyway.”

“All righty then,” I squeak, turning to the clothes.

“I bet you masturbate to them.”

“What?” I turn around, shocked by his bluntness. Then again, I have to remember where I found him. James is a street guy. He brawls in the streets. He’s lived near the streets.

The street lives in him.

“I’d do it.” His gruff voice is sexy as hell.

“You’d masturbate to your own images?” I make light of it. “You give self-love a whole new meaning.”

“You know what I meant.”

I do, and that knowledge makes me very vulnerable. Because the thought of James Rowan pulling at his cock, breathing raggedly as he whispers my name? Well, let’s just say that it gives me all the warm feels from my head to my toes. And the last thing I need is more warm feels about the guy.