Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(54)

He could take my heart, walk all over my spirit, dampen my dreams, and yet all I can do now is ride out the pleasure, scream into the night, and enjoy this moment because while that’s all it is . . . just a moment . . . it’s the first time in my life that I’ve felt unabashedly free.

I’m gasping as I recover, my fingers clutching his shirt, his scent all over my nostrils. Even the scent of me, on his fingers, as he eases back and uses his thumb to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“You okay, Lizzy?” He’s wearing the most gorgeous smile.

My vision is blurry.

Emotions overcoming me from the release of all my pent-up frustrations.

I nod. My windpipe feels a little funny. Closed and tight.

I see him shove his fingers into his mouth and lick me off him, still smiling, his blue eyes brilliant in the darkness. “You need to let me do that again very soon,” he says, and I briskly turn my head away to silently stare at the city just to keep him from noticing the tears in my eyes.

I don’t know what it is about this guy that affects me so much. Maybe it’s because he’s daring, unique, and not afraid to be himself. Or maybe because my whole life I’ve tried to be perfect and never really bought into the act. And yet when I’m with him, I don’t feel like I have to play at anything at all. I can simply be me.

He makes me feel like Lizzy, young and carefree, the girl that doesn’t need to be perfect . . . that is perfect just as she is.

James slips his arm around my waist and looks out at the city with me, and I set my cheek on his shoulder while I try to summon myself back from whatever parts of the universe he and his hot kisses and irresistible charms just scattered me.

And I whisper, “Very soon, Devil,” in answer to the provocative proposal that he made just minutes ago, and turn to meet his devilish smile with one of my own.



We get back to his house really late, when all the windows are dark. “Is Charlie home?” I ask.

He nods. “Maria’s staying over in the guest bedroom.”

That’s my cue to drop him off and leave. I’ve overstayed my time with James, and now I’m just traveling farther and farther into dangerous territory.

Still, when he says, “Come in for a minute,” I’m powerless to do anything but that.

When we creep inside, he goes down the hall and checks on Charlie. It makes my heart feel soft and warm to see the way he looks in on his little brother. “What?” he asks when he sees me staring.

I shake my head.

He takes me to the overstuffed couch in his living room, in front of a television covered in video game boxes. I sink down next to him and lower my head onto his shoulder.

“Charlie’s a good kid,” James says after a moment. “He just wants to be liked. He wants to be accepted. My aim is to get him into a better school. Give him a kick-ass education. Get him out of the slums.”

I smile, my heart reaching out within my chest with greedy, grabby hands toward him. “You’re raising a good kid, James.”

“I think about that. All the time. What my parents would say.” He presses his lips together. “Because when they were alive, this wasn’t the way my life was headed. We lived in the suburbs. I was thinking of college but not too keen on that. Maybe military. But I was a kid. I had time to figure things out. Fuck up all I wanted. My dad kept saying that to me. ‘You’re young, kid. You’ll get it all figured out.’ And then we left for vacation one week, and it all changed.”

“Car accident?” I ask gently.

He shakes his head. “My grandmother died that winter, and we were going to stay up at her old cottage on Lake Sinclair while we got it ready to sell. We were staying there, and Charlie was crying. My parents and Leanne—that’s my sister; she was thirteen—were tired from the drive. I was a typical eighteen-year-old and didn’t go to sleep until two in the morning most nights, so I took Charlie outside to play for a few hours and check out the area. He was barely going to turn four. When we got back, I tried to wake up my mom because I couldn’t find Charlie’s sippy cup in all the boxes we’d brought. But she wouldn’t. Then I tried my dad. I thought they were just really tired. Leanne . . . I checked in on her, and she was sleeping too. It took me a while to realize it was carbon monoxide.”

“My god, James.”

“My family . . . we don’t talk about the accident, Charlie and I. I don’t even know if he really remembers what happened. It’s been . . .” He scrunches his nose, his expression thoughtful. “Fuck. Almost a decade now? And we still don’t talk about it. I realized soon into mourning as you wait for the pain to go away that it never fades away, that distance from what happened is the only way you can bear to go on. It’s not that I don’t remember—it’s that I try to leave the past in the past and look at what I have. Charlie. My business. Some good friends. Maria. Luke.” He looks at me. “You.”

The way Devil says you makes my whole body grip with longing.

“I’m sorry for what happened. You were young, still.”

“I can’t complain. Some people have it worse.”

“Some could say that you can also view it like some have it better, and think of yourself as having it worse.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Now, baby, that’s not a winning attitude. Is it?”