Dirty Money(16)

"I have one vision," he drawls. "You know what it is."

And I suspect it points back to me. I say nothing, continuing down the  stairs. I'm trying to judge this house, I really am, but I'm distracted  by his presence. I can feel that he's waiting for me to say something.  Anything. To give the house my vote or to veto it. Like it's going to be  my house and not his.

I realize again just how serious he is about wanting me. He wants me to  like this place as much as he does, because he wants me here with him.  Goosebumps and adrenaline rush through me, and I feel breathless. I'm  silent as I continue out to the car, my keys in hand. What can I say? If  I said yes, I have no doubt that this man would fork out millions of  dollars to buy this house, just because I indicated that it met with my  approval. I could get a commission in no time. A big one. All I have to  do is say yes.         

     



 

"You ain't talkin'," he murmurs before I can put my hand on the handle  of the door, and I realize he's standing closer to me than I thought.

I turn around and he's so near that my breasts practically brush against  his chest. Then, I swallow a whimper, because his nearness sends a bolt  of electricity through me. Tension crackles between us, thicker and  hotter than the sultry Texas air. I feel like I can't make eye contact,  so I stare at his shirt, and notice that I can see muscles bulging  underneath the thin T-shirt fabric. Oh, mercy, that's not any safer to  look at. I'm trapped by his nearness, his virility, his sex appeal.

He leans one hand against the car, right next to my arm. "You're really  bad at answering when I have questions for you, Ivy." His voice is low  and husky and he leans in even closer. "Did you like the house? Should I  buy it for you?"

My gaze flicks to his mouth. His lips are such a contrast against that  bushy beard, and I wonder what it'd feel like to kiss him. I'm breathing  hard, my skin damp with sweat.

"Ivy?" he asks again.

"I'm thinking," I stammer.

He brushes a lock of hair off my forehead, the stray "sexy" one I left  loose and then tucked back into my bun at the last minute. I knew that  rogue strand was a bad idea, because now he's touching me and I want it .  . . and him. Oh god, I really want him. But he wants an elegant  girlfriend and that's not who I really am.

"You still not sure about my intentions?" Boone asks. "Because I thought I've been pretty clear about what I want, all along."

Me. He wants me.

I blink and gaze at his full mouth, then back up to his eyes. "I'm a little worried."

"About?"

I feel like I'm about to become unraveled. It's maddening, this intense  attraction between us. He's so close that he's making my nerves go  haywire. "That there's too much business involved in between us. That my  attraction to you is based purely on your wallet."

Boone laughs and leans a bit closer, his mouth nearing mine. "Only one way to find out."

Oh god, he's going to kiss me. He inches in, his gaze flicking back to  mine as if waiting to see how I react. Suddenly, it feels like it's  taking too long. Impulsive, I grab the front of his shirt with one hand  and pull his mouth to my own. Our lips clash, hard and fierce, and I  practically orgasm right then and there.

Boone groans and presses his chest against mine. I'm pinned against the  car, clutching the keys in my hand, my other knotted in his clothing.  His wild beard feels prickly and thick, but his lips feel somehow firm  and like velvet against my own mouth. The contrast makes me even  crazier, and I bite at his lower lip, obsessed with this man. His  breathing grows harsh and his hand grabs at my bun, and I don't know if  he's holding me close or trying to free my hair.

All rational thought has gone out the window. I hike my leg up, rubbing  my thigh against his denim-clad one, even as he snags my mouth and  begins to kiss me again. His mouth is open, hot, and seeking, and when  his tongue thrusts into my mouth, I feel it between my thighs. I let the  car keys drop, and wrap my arms around his neck, sucking on his tongue  as he fucks my mouth with it.

I want this more than I've wanted anything, ever. He's consuming my  senses, until there's nothing but heat and sweat between us, bodies  pressed together. It's still not enough. I moan into his mouth and rub  my breasts against his chest, desperate for more. I want him to pinch my  nipples. I want his hand between my thighs. I want to feel everything  he has to give me.

"Good god, baby. You are hot as sin." His hand slides to my ass and  grips it, hard, and I moan against his mouth because it feels amazing.  "I need this. Need you." His mouth claims me again in a demanding kiss.  "Need to claim what's mine."

"Boone," I whisper, utterly lost in him. I've never felt this  maddeningly wild about another man. Ever. My few dating experiences  didn't even come close to this.

He pulls me forward, and I gasp, clinging to him. He opens the back door  of the car and then steps forward. "Lie back, baby. I need to taste  you."         

     



 

"T-taste me?" I stammer.

"All of you," he agrees, voice heated. "I'm going to put my mouth on  that sweet pussy of yours and lick it until you cream on my tongue."

It's a good thing he's holding me, because my legs suddenly can't seem  to support my weight. Dazed, I sit down on the edge of the seat and  glance around. We're in the driveway of this house-"

"It's abandoned," he says, dropping to his knees in front of me, and his  movements are slow and assured . . . and dangerous. Like a predator.  His hands go to my thighs, and then he pushes them apart, my short skirt  hiking up. "Ain't nobody here but you and me, darlin'."

He's right. Part of me thinks that I should protest. Put a stop to this. Tell him that we need to keep things professional.

Instead, I watch as he runs his face along the inside of my knee,  rubbing his beard over my sensitive skin. My entire body prickles in  response.

He looks up at me a moment later, and there's raw need in his eyes. "Lie back for me, Ivy."

I should say no. I should sell him this house and just walk away.

Instead, I moan and lie back, my thighs quivering in anticipation.

"Your skin's so fuckin' soft," he murmurs, and I feel him kiss my knee  again. I close my eyes and press a hand to my forehead, because it feels  like that's the only thing that's keeping me from coming out of my own  skin. I'm a bundle of nerves-part excitement and part skittishness. His  mouth on my knee? That's the furthest I've ever gone. I can't stop  thinking about where his mouth is going to go next.

Boone's hands go up my skirt, and I feel him tug on my panties. I  freeze, because I can't remember if I'm wearing sexy panties or if  they're granny panties. Now's a hell of a time to be wondering. "Boone .  . ."

"Shh. I'm just taking myself a souvenir."

That makes me prop up on my elbows to look at him. "You can't take my panties as a souvenir!"

He arches an eyebrow at me even as he slides the underwear in question down my legs. "Can't I?"

"They're mine," I protest weakly, watching even as he lifts them to his  face and rubs the fabric over his mouth, then tucks it into his pocket.  That was the most . . . insane and erotic thing I've ever seen. Dear  lord. I stare as he turns back toward me with a predatory look in his  eye.

His hands move back up my skirt again, and he grabs my hips and then  hauls me down the seat toward him. "Put those pretty feet over my  shoulders, Ivy, and I'll lick you until you scream."

Oh god.

Oh, god.

I'm trembling with nervousness and need. There's a naughty edge to all  of this, because we're in the driveway of someone else's house. Granted,  the house is abandoned and there's a gate, but we're still outside. In  the open. Everything about that screams that we shouldn't be doing this .  . . which is probably why it feels so wicked.

And yet, I can't find the courage to do as he says. I'm paralyzed.

Boone seems to realize this, because he takes one of my thighs and  casually drapes it over his shoulder. Like it's no big deal. His eyes  meet mine for a brief, electric moment, and then he gives me one of  those gorgeously cocky smiles . . . and dives under my skirt. All I can  see is the tangle of his hair and then his mouth is on me.

And then it's hard to think about . . . anything.

I can feel the tickle of his beard on the inside of my thighs. I can  feel his mouth brushing over the curls of my pussy and then I feel the  drag of his tongue as he licks the entire length of my folds. I gasp,  but he's not done. In the next moment his tongue sweeps deeper and then I  feel him press it against my core. It feels . . . shocking. And  intensely amazing.

A whimper escapes my throat, and I have to fight the urge to raise my  hips. When he pushes his tongue against that spot again, I feel this  intense need to be filled, my insides aching and hollow.

"Knew you'd taste this fucking sweet," he murmurs, and he shrugs my  other leg over his other shoulder, and now I'm practically straddling  his face. "Been waiting forever to taste you."