One for the Money

Another shiver runs through me. “Please. I have enough testosterone to deal with between my father and my brothers.”

Finn lifts my arm and lowers his head. He places a featherlight kiss on the place where a yellow-blue bruise will be tomorrow. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”

My throat closes. A violent man couldn’t shake me, but kindness can.

So this is what it feels like to be taken care of.

Strange. Scary. Addictive.

“Time to pack up,” someone shouts, and then there’s melee.

Finn drags me against his body, shielding me from the crush. The players shove chips into pockets and purses. The dealers slam a lid on the table’s banks in what appears to be a practiced move. It’s happening so fast I can barely take it in.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

The commotion swallows my words, but Finn sees them on my lips. “The cops are coming,” he says. “Someone called in a raid. We’ve got to go.”

Chapter Four

Finn

I half-carry Eva Morelli out the back door.

If she berated me the whole way, I wouldn’t blame her. Instead she laughs. It’s a wild laugh. A sexy laugh. The kind you make when you’re diving off a high cliff.

We’re in my car and peeling away from the parking lot as siren lights come into view. Blue and red lights bounce off bricks. They aren’t after the patrons. The real goal of these raids is to catch the mysterious Miss M, the woman who owns the underground casino.

It still wouldn’t be good to get caught in their net.

Eva Morelli in city lockup? It would be a travesty, but she doesn’t look worried. Or pissed that I gave her such a close call. Instead she looks exhilarated.

This.

This is what she’d look like when she’s seconds from coming, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling, her hand tight on my arm. I don’t know if she even realizes she’s still touching me. It’s like she’s holding on for dear life, and fuck, it feels good.

Then her smile dims. “No one will get hurt, will they?”

Such a caretaker.

If I told her people might get hurt, she’d probably demand I turn the car around.

“Those are some of the wealthiest people in the world. The cops aren’t going to risk getting slapped with major lawsuits. They’ll be careful if anyone gets caught… which might not even happen. Raids aren’t common, but they happen enough that people know the drill.”

“Okay.” She sits back in the low-slung bucket seat. Her hands go to her cheeks, as if checking that she’s still intact. “Okay,” she says again.

“Underground gambling. Running from the cops. You’re a regular rebel.”

She gives a delicate snort. “For two hours, maybe.”

“For two hours, so far,” I amend. “The night isn’t over yet.”

One eyebrow rises. “Haven’t you ever heard of quitting while you’re ahead?”

“That’s not how I play, Eva. I’d rather double down.”

That earns me an eye roll. “You’re such a smooth talker.”

“Do you prefer it rough?” I ask, my tone innocent.

She gives me a glare across the stick shift that I assume is supposed to be intimidating. I just find it sexy. I want her to look at me that way while she rides me. I want her to challenge me to make her come while she tries her best not to.

God, victory will be sweet.

Except I’m not going to make her come.

She’s not going to ride me.

Not tonight. And probably not ever if she knows what’s good for her. It’s just as well that she’s not known for one-night stands. That way I won’t be tempted.

Right, Hughes. Keep telling yourself that.

Eva Morelli isn’t the kind of woman you fuck and walk away from.

She’s the kind of woman you keep.

And me? I’m a Hughes. Whether we love them or not, we sure as hell leave them.

One way or the other.

It takes her a couple blocks to realize we’re heading north instead of east.

Her gaze goes to me. “Your house?”

Something pangs in my heart. My house. She’s not asking if she’s going to take a tour of the Hughes estate. She’s asking whether I’m going to seduce her.

I don’t take women to my home.

The idea of Eva there makes my chest feel tight.

“My yacht.”

A smile twitches her lips. “Your yacht.”

“Surely you’ve heard of them. Your family owns several.”

“Is this how you impress the ladies?”

“I don’t need a large boat to impress the ladies. I already have a very large—”

“Thank you, Mr. Hughes. That will be all.”

“I was going to say very large jet skis,” I say, all innocence. “Though I do appreciate the way you got all hot schoolteacher on me. All prim and commanding. It will be that much more fun when I finally bend you over the desk.”

A gasp. And then a laugh. “You are a rascal.”

“That might be the right word,” I admit. “Even if it is a hundred years old.”