Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(8)

“While we’re waiting, I have a few questions.”

“Like?”

“Like why do you jump out of planes for a few bucks?”

“A few bucks? Lady, five hundred ain’t a few. I can see where those dollar signs could be a little blurred for someone like you, but for most of us, five hundred is quite a bit.” I jerk my chin in the direction of her shoe. “I bet five hundred wouldn’t even buy one of these.”

She seems to silently plead the Fifth.

Bites that bottom lip.

And damn, why do I wanna be the one who bites it so hard?

I drag a hand along the back of my neck, sharing something I don’t usually share with strangers. But can’t blame me trying to impress the girl. Hello? She’s fucking smoking. And I want her in bed beneath me as hard as I wanted to tear those two men apart just now.

“See . . . I’ve got some advertisers starting to come up on my channel, but I’m having a hard time getting them to up the amount. So . . . I need to keep attracting attention. Views and followers. Their offers will go up once my numbers climb.”

She eyes me as if in great interest, as if she never once considered I might have a brain under all my brawn.

“So, you going to give me more?” I ask her. Not certain whether she wants me for a fuck or not. I wouldn’t charge her a dime for that. But I’m curious as to what it is she could possibly want from me, and whether it’s a fuck or real business, the kind people do behind closed doors where there are contracts involved and lots of money too.

I wonder if she’s seen my channel often. If she came looking for me because she knows nobody can get shit done the way Jimmy Rowan can.

Elizabeth nods and, as if her thoughts are running as dirty as mine, blushes a pretty red color. “Most assuredly. If you agree to my terms.”

A car pulls over before us, and the driver steps out. “Miss Banks?”

“That’s me. This is us,” she tells me as she motions me to the black Lexus, trying to hide that blush, and my dick gets even harder at the mere prospect of having her all to myself in the back of that car.

It hits me right then and there that I know exactly who this walking wet dream of a woman is. But does that hold me back? Hell no.





WOMAN ON A MISSION

Elizabeth

You’ve lost your shit, Elizabeth.

Your therapist has warned you time and again about how easy stress can get to you, and look at you. Look at what you did!

Instead of continuing with my internal war, I turn to the guy who stands beside me. He looks half-amused, half-still-annoyed that I coaxed him out of the bar. There’s also a dash of curiosity there.

Good. I can work with that.

But. What if this guy isn’t as great as Luke the bartender implied? What if Luke is a really horrible judge of character?

As I overthink this, James finally takes a step and opens the back door of the car . . .

Hops in first and slides across the seat.

Hmph.

I shoot him a snooty look of superiority as I slide in next to him and reach for the door. After the door is closed, I say, “You’re no gentleman. Are you?”

A wicked grin settles on his face as he gives me a sultry look that suggests he has all sorts of ideas for our twenty-minute ride. “And you figured that out after the first or second punch was thrown? If you were shopping for gentlemen, baby, you went to the wrong place.”

Stiffening when I find his relentless gaze lingering inappropriately long on my face, I dig into my purse and spritz my palms with a dab of Purell, rubbing them together.

“Want some?” I cordially offer.

“Not of that. No.”

I jump a little in my seat when I hear his deep voice in the closed confines of the car.

The driver apparently believes he’s been cued to watch. He fiddles with the rearview mirror, and it’s trained on us until I glare at him. He readjusts the mirror.

What a perv.

Fighting to relax and exhaling, I give him my address and really focus on my idea. My crazy, out-of-this-world idea: if I can’t find the perfect man, I’ll create him.

And as the guy with the beard and blue eyes stares back at me, I can’t help but give him a smile.

“You should’ve said what you were up to from the start.” The daredevil’s voice sounds oddly husky as he stretches his arm behind the seat, his gaze falling to my mouth as he cups my nape in his big fingers.

He pulls me a little closer. I panic and put on the brakes. “Oh, no . . . wait. Not that. I have a business proposition for you. Business. But let’s get you cleaned up first.”

He looks at me in confusion, then glances back at my lips with ill-concealed hunger. I lick them. Once. Twice.

“You don’t want this? You seem pretty into me.” He glances pointedly at my nipples, pushing against my shirt.

“I . . . ah . . .” I try to cover my chest, and when I hear a slow chuckle, I glance back up. “Could you stop staring at my chest?”

I narrow my eyes as the guy watches me. He’s grinning as he pulls his eyes up to mine. He smells good. Masculine. Warm and exciting and . . . dangerous.

“You dig my touch. Don’t you?” he asks, trailing a finger down my jaw, watching as my lips part on a soft gasp.

I ease back, putting some distance between us. “You’re no gentleman.” I try to right myself as he gives me a look that says he doesn’t care.