Hal pulls away from the curb, and there’s obvious confusion in Libby’s eyes, like she has no idea why I’m so riled up. She slides away from me and folds her arms over her middle, looking gorgeous with her hair rolling in waves over her shoulders. “I wish I understood what’s going on with you.”
I grit my teeth. The feeling is mutual. “Why did you do this?”
“Do what?” She crosses her legs, and I can see every line of her under the snug jacket I borrowed from Loveless.
I scowl, because I’m not in a game-playing mood. “Pursue your PhD,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “What do you think?”
She’s looking down at her hands, but her spine is stiff. She’s got her hackles up. Her eyes rise to mine and I find her face blank. “I did it because I needed the money. Are you going to get all judgy?”
Me, who just paid for her. Me, who I assume she knows visited Love Inc. almost daily for several years. Of course I don’t judge her for the idea, but the execution…it was dangerous and stupid.
I shudder to think of who she could have ended up with. I also don’t understand why she’s so hard up. “I know the value of your mother’s home. Why not sell it?” I rub my dry eyes.
“It’s in my dad’s name.”
I frown. “You must have some other means. Some kind of trust fund—”
“Hunter,” she cuts me off, quiet but firm, “you’re not my keeper.”
I inhale deeply, rubbing a hand across my face. I like the way my name sounds coming from her mouth. I think about the way she looked lying on that bed, and I’m hard again in an instant, even as she gives me a wide-eyed, serious look.
“I hope you didn’t bid on me out of some misplaced feeling of responsibility.” Her eyes drop, then raise to meet mine, and I can sense a rallying as she squares her shoulders slightly. “Why did you bid on me?”
My answer won’t do, so I ignore her question. “Do you realize anyone could have won?”
“Anyone without a criminal record,” she corrects. “And yes.”
“Do you know who the runner-up was?” The runner up was Alexander Halford, a weasel corporate attorney who’s sixty-five and only fucks women in their early 20s.
She lifts her shoulder, staring straight ahead at the limousine’s divider wall. “I don’t care.”
“Such trust in the world.” Even to my own ears, I sound like a caricature of some cynical old man.
She arches a brow. “It’s just sex, and it’s just one time. I wanted what could be done with the money badly enough that it didn’t matter who the winning bidder was.”
My dick twitches, and shift my hips to keep it from straining at my pants. “You’re helping your friend, Cross Carlson.” Remembering that day in court, I grit my molars. I’m probably about to stick my foot in my damn mouth again, so it’s a good thing she cuts me a fed-up look and sighs.
“Why I want the money is no one’s business but mine.”
I snort. “I was in the courthouse that day. Unless you’ve got something else in the works...”
Her mouth twitches, the little minx. “Maybe I do.”
I turn toward her, wanting her to understand this. I pin her with my eyes and turn my gaze on high. “You can’t trust just anyone. Definitely not a man that’s going to pay millions to have sex with you.”
“I have guards,” she points out.
“Yeah, and you dismissed them to come with me. How well do you think you know me, Libby?”
“Well enough to know you’re tired and grumpy, and your back’s still sore.” She sighs. “I know I don’t know you very well, but am I really supposed to worry you’re some kind of villain?”
“I’m a recovering addict who visits brothels and has a penthouse at a casino. You’ve seen me fucking a porn star—not too easy, either. You’re riding an awful fucking lot on intuition.”
“And you’re not telling me anything I don’t know,” she murmurs. She looks away from me, and guilt grabs me by the throat. I sigh into my hands. Lift my head. Meet her eyes. “The other night at the Joseph—”
“Doesn’t need to be rehashed. Seriously, Hunter, there was nothing complicated about that, so why make it complicated now?”
I snort. I’d hate to see her version of complicated. I wonder if the mess I’m in would qualify.
She sits back against the heated seat, and I wonder how anything with us could ever be anything but complicated. I can’t help being hard as a rock, sitting this close to her. All that long brown-red hair, that gorgeous face, the way she smells, like cinnamon and vanilla…
I stay silent as we roll toward Batshit Ranch. Not counting Priscilla, who comes by uninvited, I’ve never brought a woman here before.