Dirty Money(22)

"A-all right." I want to squirm with just how aroused I am. I'm mentally  picturing leaning over him, my nipples brushing against his back, his  arm. Him casually fingering my pussy as I cut his hair . . . God, this  should not seem as erotic as it does. But I'm practically beside myself  with need at the thought. "I'll cut your hair naked."

"Hair, too?"

"Well, that seems fair, don't you think? I'm doing a lot of giving here." And I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

He snorts and pulls his cap off, then rubs his hand through his hair.  "Long as I don't get a stupid haircut, I don't care what you do with  it."

"It won't be stupid," I breathe, excited. My nipples are hard under my  jacket, and it's like he just went down on me again, not just promised  to let me cut his hair. Calm down, silly nipples. "No weird haircuts, I  promise. I'm just going to trim it."

He nods slowly. "If you want."

I smile. "Then show me your bathroom. I'll strip down for you, and we can get started."

Boone extends his hand to me and I melt a little. He's going to hold my  hand while giving me a tour of his place? That's so sweet and oddly  gentlemanly. I tuck the kit under my arm and put my hand in his,  following close behind as he leads me through the trailer.

He opens a door down the hall . . . and stops. Sighs.

"What is it?" I ask, though I'm a little worried. Guys can have gross  bathrooms. I peek around his shoulder, unable to help myself, and I'm  puzzled at his dismay. It's a bathroom. It's clean, with a few bottles  on the small sink, but it's tidy.

"This ain't right," he tells me.

"Why isn't it right?"

He glances over at me and I can feel him squeeze my hand. "Because here I  am, inviting you over for a night of no-holds-barred sex, and I made  you drive over to my trailer. And then there's this." He gestures at the  tiny bathroom.

"What's wrong with it? It looks clean."

"You deserve better."

I fidget, feeling uncomfortable. Does he not realize my place could be a  twin to his? I wish that I could tell him that I didn't care.

But he wants an elegant girlfriend. One that knows her way around  society and how to impress people. One that can sell him a big fancy  house because she knows about fancy things. And if that changes, I might  lose him. I . . . don't want that to happen. Not yet.

So I say nothing.

Boone frowns at his bathroom a moment longer, and then gazes down the  hallway of his trailer. It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him that it  doesn't matter. Maybe I can tell him a friend of mine lives in a  trailer and it's no big deal. But before I can come up with a story that  will make him feel better, he tugs me down the hall after him, and  we're heading back toward the living room.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"I have an idea. Get your purse." He releases my hand and grabs his car keys from the kitchen counter.

I move to the couch and pick it up, tucking the shaving kit back inside  it. I'm a little confused by what's going on. "Are we leaving?"

He nods slowly, giving me another heated look that makes my toes curl in  my shoes. "Since I don't have the big house yet, I'm gonna take you to a  nice, fancy hotel and we're gonna do this right."         

     



 

"I don't need a hotel," I protest. "Really. This is fine, Boone."

"It's not fine. You're classy and deserve better than this." He gestures  at his trailer with a shake of his head. "Ain't right for you."

Isn't it? I feel a stab of guilt at keeping my secret. It's making me  uneasy, because he's so focused on how "classy" I am (a word I'm  starting to hate) that I wonder how he's going to act when he finds out  I'm not anything like his picture of me. "Maybe we should just call this  off, Boone. I don't know-"

"No," he says quickly, moving across the trailer to my side. Then, he's  looming over me, his larger-than-life presence eating up all the oxygen  around me as he cups my cheek. "I want this. I want you, Ivy. You have  no idea how bad I want this."

A small smile returns to my face. "Don't I? You tell me all the time."

"Well, if you know how badly I want you, you should know that I want  this to be right for you. It ain't sitting right for me that the first  time I fuck you is gonna be in some lousy, run-down trailer. You deserve  the fancy sheets, the nice bed, the lobster tail, the works."

"Oh, so now we're going out to dinner?" I tease, and then gesture at my  very low neckline, where my breasts are practically escaping my suit  jacket. "I'm not exactly dressed for that."

"We'll get room service. Whatever you want. I just want to do this right."

I shake my head. "However we do it is right. I promise you, I don't need all that-"

He silences my protest with a hard, fierce kiss that leaves me dazed.  When he lifts his mouth from mine, he nips at my lip one last time  before saying, "This is how it's gonna be."

And what can I do but agree? "All right."

Boone looks thoughtful. "How much does a fancy hotel suite cost a night?"

"Oh, I'm not sure." Mostly because I've never stayed in one. Time to  lie, again. "The last time I stayed in one it was about five hundred a  night." God, I'm such a terrible liar. He's going to see right through  me and wonder.

But Boone only nods slowly. "All right, I don't have that much cash on me. I gotta get it out of my savings. Come on."

I follow him out onto the porch, but I'm bewildered when he skips  heading to his truck and instead pulls a blue tarp off of what looks  like a four-wheeler. He holds a helmet out to me, indicating I should  join him. "What are we doing?"

"Going to pull money out of my savings?"

"I . . . thought we were going to a bank for that?"

He snorts. "Like I trust a bank."

"Shouldn't you? You're a billionaire."

He puts the helmet over my head and then puts one on himself. "I keep  most of the big money in the company and don't have access to it. Mostly  because I can't dig enough holes to squirrel it all away. My personal  money's here on the land."

Squirrel away? I'm suddenly envisioning Boone showing up for closing on  his house with a freshly dug-up gold bar or three. "I'm not following  you."

"I got several jars of money buried in a few spots. We'll pull cash from  one of those." And to show me that he's serious, he tucks a spade into  his back pocket.

It's night. I'm in a suit and five-inch heels and he wants to go digging  in the woods for money? This feels . . . bizarre. "We really don't have  to do this, Boone-"

"Get over here or I'm going to sit you down and lick your pussy until you say yes." The look on his face is challenging.

Good lord, the man means it, too. I'm torn, because . . . that's not  exactly a punishment. And Boone's as pigheaded as they come, I'm  realizing. Me stalling or telling him that this isn't a good idea? I  might as well be trying to reason with the trees. I sigh and adjust the  strap under my helmet. "Please tell me it's not gold bars, at least. I'm  pretty sure hotels don't take those."

He laughs as he sits down on the four-wheeler and waits for me to  straddle the seat behind him. "I may be a crazy redneck, but I ain't  that crazy."         

     



 





Chapter Nine



Boone

Ivy knows of a fancy place downtown, so we head there in my truck. She  keeps protesting that she doesn't need a nice bed or a super expensive  hotel room, but I need that for her. Ivy's going to be my wife, and I'm  not having our first time together on my shitty old bed in my shitty old  trailer. She's used to better and she deserves to be treated like the  lady she is.

I glance over at her as I drive. Even though it's late at night, she  looks fresh and pretty. Her mouth's still a little puffy from my  beard-scraping kisses, but I kinda like that look on her. She keeps a  hand on the front of her jacket, pinching it together with her fingers  so her tits don't show to the world. Not that I'd mind that, but Ivy's a  lady, and that ain't a lady thing to do.

Then again, neither is going to a hotel late at night to have sex with  me. Course, I don't mind that, either. I feel a fierce surge of  satisfaction just thinking about her, because she's mine.

Finally, she's gonna be mine. I'm gonna take her to some fancy-ass  overpriced hotel room, peel the clothes off her body, get a few glasses  of champagne in her, and lick every inch of her silky skin until she's  begging for my cock. Even now, I'm hard, my jeans tight in the crotch.  But I can be a real patient man when I need to be. Haven't I been  patient waiting on her to come around to how good it could be with me?

Longest damn week.

But worth it, if I get her in my bed and in my life.

We check in at the hotel, and Ivy seems even more nervous, holding her  jacket shut and clutching her purse tight against her arm. I get one of  the top-floor suites and, when I've paid, escort my woman to the  elevator.