Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(86)

And I can’t . . . even . . . believe it.

He starts to climb again, reaching for the railing of my balcony. When he pulls himself up a little, I realize he’s wearing a Banks Intrigue. “Are you crazy, Jimmy Rowan?” I say to him as he leans his torso on the rail and grins at me.

“Yep. And I’m also probably going to jail.” The second he gets up, I grab him so he won’t fall, though I know he’s got it. I pull him over the railing, and he collapses on the floor of my balcony. “Bail me out?”

“Of course. But why did you . . . ?”

He shrugs, gathering his breath. “Because I was dared.”

“You were . . . dared?”

He stands up and takes my hand, bringing me to the edge of the balcony. He waves at the people below and the helicopter that’s now circling nearby to let them know he’s okay. “Yep. Dared to show and tell you how batshit-crazy in love with you I am.”

I am sure this is a dream. I must be dreaming. My voice comes out a breath. “You are?”

“I sure am. So now I’ve got a dare for you, heiress.”

“You do?”

He smiles, his gaze on me hotter than a thousand suns. “Actually, more of a very lucrative offer.”

I’m still dazed. “I’m listening.”

“Yeah. It’s going to involve drinking large amounts of crappy tequila. Eating shit with whatever fork is clean. No shaving,” he says, rubbing the scruff on his chin. He pulls on his tie and sends it flying over the side of the balcony. “And fuck the bow ties.”

He reaches over and unbuttons the top button on my blouse, and I swear, for the first time in weeks, for the first time since LA . . . I can breathe.

It’s all him.

It’s what being with him does to me.

“And another thing—you’ll be expected to talk about fucking as much as humanly possible. As long as it’s with me.” He fixes me with a hard stare. “You in?”

My whole body is a field of goose bumps. It’s a scary thing I’m up this high, because I feel like I can fly.

I nod, drinking in those blue, blue eyes of his, that dimple, and the way he looks at me. “How can I refuse an offer like that?”

He pulls me flush against him as the people watching us start to whoop and cheer, and as if it doesn’t matter—as if all that matters is us—he puts a finger under my chin and lifts it for a kiss.

“Some stunt,” I murmur, breathless as he whisks his lips across mine first.

“No stunt, Lizzy,” he says, nibbling my lower lip, then licking off the sting. “Just living. And I want you to do it with me. Ready?”

It might have taken me twenty-five years of following other people’s stars, of doing what was expected and wanted of me as society girl Elizabeth Banks. But nothing has ever felt as right as when I gaze into his eyes, seeing every bit of my future there. Maybe I set out to make him, but my dirty, sexy, hot-as-hell daredevil made me, and now? I wouldn’t change a thing.

Yeah.

I’m ready.





EPILOGUE

Two months later . . .

James

I’m the million dollar man. That’s what my fans on YouTube call me since Lizzy appeared on my channel. My 3,000,300 fans.

Oh yeah, she ended up helping me expand my channel more than I ever imagined.

She said, “I think people like things that are real, so we should be real with them.” So we had Charlie film us both as she and I chatted about everything that happened to lead up to that debacle at the Banks menswear launch that made me even more famous.

My channel exploded. It went viral. Everybody knows my girl hired me for a million dollars.

Everybody knows becoming James was the biggest stunt of my life.

Not that it’s just a stunt . . . because I am James.

Hell, I’m not pretending to be the perfect man.

I am her perfect man.

And I’m bewitched.

I see her heart and own her soul.

She lets me have whatever I want. Gives me everything I’ll ever need.

As I inch closer, she curves her arm around my neck and gives me an impish grin, one that says she’s got this under control.

I don’t doubt that for a minute.

“Now what, heiress?” I shrug off my jacket. Unhook my belt. Drop my damn zipper.

“Watch.” She slides my navy slacks to my knees as she goes down to the concrete. “Wait.” She touches my cock, eyes the tip, and kisses the crest.

NOW. I’m dying.

NOW. I can’t wait to fuck her.

But wait I will.

This is her night. She’s the boss. She’s taking the lead.

Her mouth inches closer, and that wicked tongue slips across her lips. I grab hold of her ponytail and guide her over my cock. She’s a tempter, a woman who no longer protects her inhibitions or adores her privacy.

Where’s the fun in that?

Her mouth is any man’s ruin, but her mouth is mine, and I’m hers to ruin.

She dips her head but lifts her eyes. Her tongue strums. Her fingers get busy.

Good lord, this woman is hot as summer, sweet as honeydew.

She grabs my cock with a determined grip. She strokes and pumps. Her fingers touch. Her lips swell with the sweetest kiss.

The flush of skin.