Dirty Money(32)

And she has to think about it?

"Am I that bad to be around?" I have to know. The thought of her being  repulsed by me sends an ache right through my gut. I'm crazy about her  and it kills me to think it might not be mutual.

Ivy makes a sound of surprise. "It's not you at all-"

"Isn't it? First chance you get, you ditch me. Kinda makes me feel like you're having regrets for slumming it with me."         

     



 

"That's not true." Her hand goes to my knee again. "If there's a problem  between us, it's that I'm a little too addicted to you."

She's not making any sense. I glance over at her before focusing my eyes back on the road again. "How is that a problem?"

"It's a problem for me. I don't have time in my life right now for a relationship, much less an obsessive one."

"You think what we have is obsessive?"

"Well, I've known you for a week and you've already been in my pants.  I'd say that's moving fast. And our first visit to a house you had your  head between my legs."

I lick my lips, because it's been entirely too long since I've tasted  her. "I miss having my head between your legs, Ivy. I'd put it there  right now if I didn't need my eyes for driving."

She sucks in a little breath and her legs shift on the seat. She's  wearing one of her longer skirts, her body covered down to the knees. I  guess I'm the only one that gets the short skirts. Hot damn, I like  that. Maybe what she's telling me is true. Maybe she's afraid of jumping  in too fast. I can understand that.

I put my hand on her knee, just to test the waters. After a moment, she  puts her hand on mine, but she doesn't try to remove it. Guess she's not  lying and she likes my touch after all. I stroke my thumb over the soft  skin of her thigh. "Missed you this week. A lot."

Ivy's hand caresses mine. "I missed you, too. I hate that I did. I  wanted to be able to just walk away and not think about you anymore.  Except that didn't happen. I ended up thinking about you all the time."

"But you still didn't call me."

She chuckles. "You're not the only one in this relationship that can be incredibly pigheaded."

And then I'm pleased, because she's calling it a relationship. Maybe I'm  breaking down her defenses. "I want you to go with me on this trip out  to West Texas. It'll just be an overnight, but I'd like you there with  me."

"Because I owe you a blow job?"

I drag my thumb along the inside of her knee. "Actually I just want to  be around you. But yeah, we can say it's for the blow job." When she  laughs, I press forward. "Call your clients. Tell them you can't make it  back today."

"I need my purse-"

"You don't. I'll handle everything."

She shifts and I feel her creamy skin under my hand like a caress. I rub  my fingertips along her inner thigh, wondering if she'd push me away if  I let my hand go higher. "I do have two clients I'm supposed to meet  this afternoon-"

"Tell them you have to reschedule."

"Someone will snag them out from under me."

"Tell your clients that if they don't go with someone else, you'll give them a free car at closing."

Ivy sputters. "I can't give them free cars! I don't-"

"I'll give them free cars. You don't have to give them a thing. You're  my lady, and I'm stealing you away, so the least I can do is make sure  your business is secure." I tap my finger on her thigh. "Call 'em."

"This is . . . not realistic, Boone."

"I got enough money that I don't have to live in reality anymore, or  didn't you notice?" I grin over at her, my hand possessive on her thigh.  "Last week I shot down a two-million-dollar house for being too  shitty."

"It was shitty for the amount of money you're going to pay," she admits,  and pulls out her phone. She hesitates, and then sighs. "I can't  believe I'm doing this."

"I'm glad you are," I tell her, and stroke her thigh again. She shivers  even as she dials, but she doesn't push my hand away. It's like she  likes it there.

I think, for all her protesting, Ivy likes being owned by me.

She calls a client and shoots a nervous smile over at me. "Hello, Mr.  Thompson? This is Ivy Smithfield, over at Three Jacks Real Estate.  Listen, I am terribly sorry. I know we were supposed to go and view a  couple of houses later today, but I'm afraid that something has come up  and I won't make it back this afternoon." She pauses, listening to the  man on the other end. A tiny frown appears between her brows. "I know. I  understand. Yes, it is unprofessional, but I'm afraid something really  has come up."         

     



 

"Tell him you'll give him a free car," I murmur.

She shoots me a frustrated look, her focus on the phone. "I understand,  Mr. Thompson. Yes. Yes." A held-in sigh. "Yes. Yes, I understand."

Man, the guy must really be reaming her. "Tell him you'll give him the  car," I repeat, stroking higher on her thigh to get her attention.

She squirms against me, a startled look crossing her face.

"Car," I repeat.

"Mr. Thompson," she says, and there's a breathless note to her voice  that makes my dick hard. "I understand your frustration, and I know this  is unconventional, but the appointment that came up today? The person  in question is offering a free automobile upon closing if you remain  signed with me." Silence. "Yes. A car. Wh-what kind?" She looks over at  me, helplessly.

"Any kind he wants," I tell her. I don't give a fuck if he demands a Bentley as long as he stops yelling at my woman.

"Any kind you like," she stammers into the phone. "Yes, I am quite  serious. Yes, I am sure you can get it in writing." A throaty little  laugh escapes her throat. "Does he own a car dealership? Something like  that. I do realize it's inconvenient to reschedule like this, but that  is why my client is offering this incentive. Yes. Yes, I promise I'm not  lying. Yes, I suppose you can have a minivan if you need one." She  glances over at me.

I nod slowly. My hand goes higher up her skirt, and I hold her thigh  possessively. Her skin's getting softer-and warmer-the higher up I go.  And my dick's getting harder with every inch I claim, too.

"I see. Yes, send me an email and we'll reschedule for early next week, I  promise. And I'll get you that information about the car. Yes, I  promise I'm not joking." She gives a little laugh. "I understand. It is  strange, but this is a very generous client. Yes. Thank you for  understanding, Mr. Thompson." She hangs up the phone and looks over at  me. "I hope you're serious about the car thing."

"Of course I am. Why would I lie?"

"Because I'm pretty sure that man was going to cry out of happiness."

"I wanted him to stop yelling at you."

Ivy gives a small shake of her head. "You realize he's going to try and find the most expensive minivan on the market, right?"

"Don't care. Long as you don't lose his business."

She laughs and looks at me like I'm crazy. "You do realize the van  you're going to buy is way more expensive than anything I'd get,  commission-wise? He's very low-income, HUD housing. He'll be lucky if he  qualifies for more than eighty K through the bank." She stares out the  window. "Six kids, though."

"Then I should buy the guy a big van," I agree. Sounds like the guy could use it.

"You're crazy, you know that, right?" Ivy looks over at me, smiling.

"Don't care if I am, long as I get what I want."

"And you want . . ." she prompts.

"You know what I want." I push my hand further up her skirt and cup her  sex. Fuck, I can feel how wet she is through her panties. And the little  gasp of shock she gives and the fact that she clenches her thighs  around my hand? Even fucking better. "I can't get enough of you, Ivy.  And if I have to buy minivans for the entire state, I'm gonna do it if  that means I get to hog all your time." I drag my fingers along her  pussy. She's keeping it nice and shaved, and damn if that isn't the  sexiest thing ever.

"Oh my god," she moans, and her hand clenches the truck seat. She's not  pushing my hand away, though. Her hand goes to the chicken bar over the  door, like she's gotta hold on to something. "You shouldn't do this  while you're driving, Boone."

She's probably right. I ain't paying much attention to the road. Not  with her hot pussy against my fingers and her squirming like she's about  to come off the seat. And since I'm not willing to remove my hand . . .  I put on my blinker and immediately start crossing lanes, heading for  the nearest exit. Up ahead I see a cluster of signs, and when I pull off  onto the service road, I head for the parking lot of a local  superstore. It all takes about thirty seconds as I tear through traffic,  but that's thirty seconds too long.