THE MILLIONAIRE'S GAMBLE
“Mad, bad, and dangerous to know…”
– Lady Caroline Lamb on poet and notorious rake George Gordon, Lord Byron
Wealth has a price. Everyone wants something from you. For one woman, that something was my DNA. One minute, she was kissing me like we were going to strip it down and go at it. And the next, she was ripping out my hair for a paternity test—and threatening to torpedo my latest deal. I don’t play these kind of games. And that damnably sexy woman with the alluring eyes and mistaken agenda is about to learn that the hard way…
Millionaire scion Jagger Hamilton didn’t father Kennedy Price’s nephew. That doesn’t mean he can’t use the situation to his advantage. She wants him to take a paternity test. He wants her in his bed.
She’s blackmailing him, and she’s playing dirty. He could try to use the famous Hamilton charm to turn her into a powerful ally… But she makes him feel… Way. Too. Much.
Kennedy Price isn’t asking much. Just for the powerful, sinfully hot, and notorious playboy to be a decent human being. But he’s used to using that filthy, sensual mouth for getting what he wants.
And he wants her.
She’s determined not to fall for him. But there’s no avoiding his charisma, or his bed, where she threatens to lose more than the standoff between them. She just might lose her heart.
When Kennedy doesn’t show up at Jagger’s suite, he goes after her.
“What’s so funny?” Jagger’s actual voice startled her, then washed over Kennedy, doing everything the whiskey had the night before. Every neon light in the place seemed to scream that he was dangerous, but she couldn’t bring herself to take a much-needed step away.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said without looking in his direction. She knew he stood behind her. She could feel that much, and she hated that she had to be so in tune with him that she could feel his proximity.
“I was disappointed when you didn’t show.” As he spoke, his lips grazed her ear, then her neck. He stood almost against her back, and the urge to give in was almost more than she could handle.
Her thoughts immediately skated back to the plane, and her body weakened and begged as if his mouth were on her right then. This man was so much more dangerous than she’d ever imagined, and if she was going to survive any time in his orbit, she was going to have to throw up walls. Fast. “You would have been more disappointed if I had.”
“Not possible.” He sold his cocky self-assurance like a seduction.
She tried to harden her voice to something above the whimper in her throat. The words were easy…hiding that she wanted him, something else entirely. “If you tried to throw me out of your room in the middle of the night after you were finished,” she managed, “you would have been more than disappointed. You would have been disappointed and limping.”
“What makes you think I would have been finished before the sun came up?”
She shrugged, feeling none of the nonchalance she feigned. “Your rules.”
He laughed quietly. “Is that what’s in play? Because I have another one, and it’s called finishing what I started.”
“I’m sorry to hear you didn’t finish,” Kennedy said. “I didn’t know that was a particular problem of yours.”
At her words, two sets of eyes shifted from the blackjack game to her, then Jagger. He must have noticed, because he took her hand and led her away from the table, closer to the scene of their original crime. All she had to do was see the spot on the floor where they’d stood for that kiss, and she grew boneless and weak.
She hated weakness.
And he apparently hated small talk, because he didn’t waste time on it. “It’s not,” he said on a growl. He immediately put his mouth on hers, using her surprise to deepen it, taking her right back to that kiss on the plane. Brimming with intimacy and promise, it had no business in her life, and neither did he. She willed herself to break free, but in the aftermath, looking in his eyes was far worse. The intensity there was devastating. It made her feel like he was actually seeing her, and she knew that was a lie.
He saw a conquest. Unfinished business.
Half a night with someone in his bed.