Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(44)

The guy stumbles back.

“Apologize to my girlfriend. It’s a fucking honor to buy her a drink, buddy. Now thank her for letting you,” he growls, pulling him up by the shirt and forcing him to look at me.

The guy blinks confusedly. “Heya, ah, thanks for letting me buy you a drink . . .”

“See?” He slams a bill onto the counter. “But that one was actually on me.” He walks in my direction, taking me by the elbow as he leads me out of the bar.

I’m laughing hysterically as he guides me to the car, blinking up at the dark skies and realizing it’s still raining, though much more lightly now.

As James unlocks my Audi, I hear myself fumble behind me for the door and swing it open, falling into the back seat.

I grab a bunch of his shirt and pull him close until our lips fuse. He pulls the door shut behind him and shifts us until he’s on his back, pulling me over him on the back seat. I straddle him, but since he’s lying down, I fold over and rub myself over him. Kissing him like I’ve never kissed in my whole life. Not drunk, not in high school, not in my wildest dreams have I kissed anyone like this.

I feel young and perfect, like it doesn’t matter that I ripped my scarf while I was dancing. Doesn’t matter that my hair is a tangled mess behind me from the rain, and it definitely doesn’t matter that my lips are swollen and my lipstick smeared all over my face because of HIM.

He shoves my skirt up and pulls off my top until a gust of air hits my skin.

I catch my breath as he eases back—tossing the garment behind him. Eyes narrowing as he looks up at me. Partly dressed, swallowing nervously.

“Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Elizabeth? It’s about to get rough for you, baby.”

“Just kiss me.”

I pull him up by the face, and his mouth crashes against mine, and he tastes sinfully good. My body buzzes as I press closer, my breasts squished against his hard chest as his tongue slips into me, over and over.

I feel his fingers grip my ass as he sits up and devours me. They tease up and down the crevice of my butt, and I moan against his mouth because I can’t get enough.

I rub myself against his erection. Only my panties and his jeans separating us.

He growls into my mouth, still busy caressing my bum, my back, my breasts. I think he wants me to rock against him.

And so I do.

He wants me to let my hair down.

And so I have.

I gasp and peel away as I look at him. His mouth spreads into a full-fledged naughty smile, the kind that makes me ache and burn, the kind that dares me to kiss him.

And so I ease back down to him.

And I do.





PHONE CALL

Elizabeth

Saturday morning, I wake up fully dressed in my big king bed, with nothing but a pounding headache for company.

I glance around in confusion, feeling for my clothes and then searching for Devil in my room. He’s not here. I click the remote of my drapes and as they open, squint against the sunlight, finding two aspirin and a bottle of water on my nightstand.

My stomach knots up as I wonder if something happened last night.

What’s the last thing I remember?

I strain my mind, and like petals, the memories start falling on me.

Dancing like a maniac in some seedy bar.

Pulling James into the back seat of my car, kissing him like crazy.

James kissing me like crazy. And then . . .

Did I pass out?

I feel between my legs, but I’m not sore at all. But then I touch my mouth, and I almost wince. So . . . looks like we didn’t have sex. I would REMEMBER that.

Only kissing. Lots of yummy . . . out-of-this-world . . . kissing. Touching. And then . . . did I pass out . . . ? Then Devil drove me home, and probably . . . Devil tucked me . . . he tucked me in bed?

I call Jeanine.

“How’s it going, chipmunk?”

“It’s, ah . . . it’s going well.”

“He learning a lot? That sexy manbabe of yours?”

“Yes, actually!” I say. “And so am I!”

“Like what his manhood feels like buried deep in your nether regions?”

“No,” I say, blushing. “I’m not. We’re not . . .”

I can’t even begin to finish that. Because last night, we almost did. Maybe. What do I know? Things were heading in that definite direction before I . . .

Ugh. Who knows what I did?

“What are you waiting for, love? I hadn’t heard from you in a while but figured you’d be busy getting that man in line, and in your pants.”

“Oomph,” I cry, settling back on the pillow with a sigh. “I’m not . . . it’s not like that, actually.”

“How so?” She’s curious, and I dread telling her that James Rowan is not the piece of garbage she thinks he is. He’s complex and intelligent and funny and . . .

She’ll never understand.

I don’t even know how to put into words how James . . . gets to me.

Every part of him gets to me.

I skim into the future and realize that Jeanine will think I’m a complete crackpot. Then she’ll warn me that James is and can only be for a quick fuck, because my dad’ll never approve of anything more.

Silence.

“Elizabeth.” She sounds concerned now.