Dirty Money

“Delicious,” she breathes, her hands moving over my collarbone.

“What?” My voice sounds gruff, even to my own ears, but damn. I can’t think when she’s doing all this touching.

“I didn’t expect you to look so delicious,” Ivy tells me in a soft voice. “I was expecting . . . I don’t know. Lots of chest hair.” Her hand slides over one pectoral, then the next, and then down to the trail of hair on my lower stomach. “But you have just enough. I like it.” Her hands seem to be moving all over me. “And I like all these muscles.”

“Made ’em just for you.”

She grins at that, but in my head, it’s not a lie. In my head, everything I do is for her.

I lean in to kiss her, because I need the taste of her on my lips. But she only moves away and saunters toward the bathroom, peeking over her shoulder at me. “We’ve only got an hour, Boone. We need to hurry this along.”

“Only an hour? Damn. How long’s it gonna take to shave a man?” I follow her, because I’m fascinated by the sway of her hips and the way her ass moves. And god almighty, those long legs. Those are gonna be the death of me.

“I don’t want to rush. I need to do it right, because I want to keep the beard and the hair. Just clean them up a little.”

Well, damn. I want to keep the beard and the hair, too, but this is starting to sound iffy to me.

She enters the bathroom and picks through the stack of fluffy white towels until she finds one the right size she wants, and then spreads it on the counter. She grabs another and tosses it over my shoulders, smiling and looking for all the world like she’s thrilled to be givin’ me a haircut.

Women are so strange sometimes.

“Wait here,” Ivy tells me. “I need to get my purse.”

So I wait, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t see the big deal. I’m a little shaggy . . . okay, a lot shaggy. I rake my hand through my hair and I’m pretty sure it’s been a year or so since I got my last cut, and it’s at least six inches long. It goes in every direction, most days, which is why I like to wear a cap. I drag my fingers through my beard, thoughtful. It’s kinda scraggly on the sides but fuller toward the chin and ends in a sloppy point. I picture the suits that I have meetings with, and Bates. I don’t look like them at all. I do look just like a dirty roughneck.

Maybe Ivy’s right. Maybe a change isn’t so bad after all.

She returns a moment later with her little bag and then hops up on the counter. “I think we’ll start with the beard first, and then we’ll clean up some of your hair.”

I don’t care what we do, so long as it involves her touching me. I lean in closer and she automatically spreads her legs as she sits on the counter, allowing me between them. My cock aches hard at that, and I press my body against the counter to try and stave off some of the consuming lust I’m feeling. Up close, she’s so pretty and perfect. Her hair is still in one of those tight knots and I want to pull it loose and see how long it is. But first things first . . . “You forgettin’ something?”

Ivy pauses as she pulls out the electric clippers and glances around the bathroom counter. “Did I?”

I reach out and slide one of her bra straps down her shoulder. “Part of our deal was that you’d be naked, remember?”

As I watch, the flush moves over her skin. It’s like it’s racing from her breasts to her cheeks, which is fascinating. “Oh.”

“But I’m a gentleman,” I declare. “You can keep your panties on.”

She gives me a wry look. “Boone, there are many words I’d choose to describe you, but I don’t think ‘gentleman’ is ever one of them.”

“You like me all rough around the edges, though.” I move the other bra strap down her other shoulder, and lean in to kiss her skin, just because she looks so good. Smells incredible, too. Like fresh soap and soft, girly flowers. Love that.

“I do, it seems,” she murmurs, even as I lean in to kiss her again.

My arms go around her and I find the clasp of her bra and undo it, even as our mouths lock. One moment of hesitation from her and I’ll stop what I’m doing. I want her to feel she has some control and not that I’m charging over her like a bull. I leave the clasp alone and focus on kissing her, instead. I could kiss this woman all day, just because her tongue feels like heaven against mine. She moans when I deepen the kiss, her arms curling around my neck. One of her feet rubs against the outside of my thigh and I wish that damn foot was rubbing on my cock, it feels so good.

She breaks off the kiss and I can’t resist getting one last peck in before she gives her head a dazed little shake. “I suppose we’d better get started.”

“I suppose,” I drawl, though I’m more interested in kissing her than getting my beard cut up.

Ivy gives me a nervous look, and then tugs her bra the rest of the way off. She tosses it onto the floor in a slow, casual motion, and then straightens on the counter, her back slightly arched. It’s almost like she’s waiting for me to pass judgment on her tits.

As if they’d ever be anything but perfection.

Her breasts are everything I’ve been dreaming they would be. Creamy, round handfuls tipped with the prettiest tight pink nipples that are begging for my mouth. Gorgeous. “You’re a real pretty sight, Ivy.”

“I know,” she says confidently, but her skin is covered with nervous goosebumps. She picks up the electric shaver again and then crooks her finger at me.

I lean in obediently. “Do I get to touch your tits once you’ve cleaned me up?”

“I’ll think about it,” she teases.

“Be kind to a poor, humble man.”

She snorts. “You are neither poor nor humble. Now, hold still.”

I close my eyes because I don’t want to see the travesty she’s going to make of my beard. The clippers buzz angrily and I can feel her movements as she works on my beard. Man, if this looks awful, my brothers are going to give me such shit—

“Okay, done with the beard,” Ivy says a scarce moment after she started.

“Already?” I open my eyes and she’s smiling at me.

“Yeah, just wanted to clean up the sides a bit.” She strokes my beard, examining me. “We could get you a bit of beard oil and shape things, if you wanted.”

“You gonna do it for me?” I say gruffly, because her touching me is one of the best things I’ve ever experienced. I’d probably be willing to let her turn my beard pink if she’d keep stroking it like she is. My gaze falls to those pretty, bouncy tits. God, I can’t wait to touch her.

“I can. What do you think?”

“I think those are the nicest tits I’ve ever seen.” My mouth is watering just looking at them.

“No, about your beard, silly.” There’s a tremble in her voice now, even though she’s trying to keep things light. “We’re not doing anything with my tits.”

“Not yet,” I drawl, and finally focus in on the mirror. Huh. I run my hand along my jaw. I’m not all wild looking anymore. I’ve still got a thick beard, but she’s cleaned up the sides and my moustache, and trimmed some of the stray hairs. I still look like me, just a bit tidier. “Huh.”

“Do you like it?”

“You managed to make me look even more devastatingly handsome,” I tell her playfully.

She just grins and gives a little wiggle on the counter like she’s pleased. “I have a good subject.”

“Do I get a prize?” I slide my hand down her arm, gliding over her soft, lovely skin. “Because I can think of something I’d like in my mouth right about now . . .”

“I haven’t even touched your hair yet,” Ivy murmurs, shifting a little closer to me when I lean in. “And I’m covered in your beard hair. Look.” She gestures down at her gorgeous thighs and there’s a few stray sprinkles of my hair on her skin, but not enough to thwart a man. “So you need to wait.”

I sigh. “All right. If I must.”

“This time I need you to sit on the toilet, I think, so I can work on your hair.” She dusts her legs off and hops down off the counter, sauntering across the enormous bathroom to the toilet and gesturing at it.

I groan but do as she asks. I lower the seat, adjust the towel around my neck, and give her a grumpy look as she comes to my side with a comb and a pair of the world’s tiniest scissors. I’m getting tired of all this grooming—

Or I am until she moves between my knees and then starts to comb my hair. It puts her naked, delicious breasts right in front of my face.

Well, now. This just got a lot more interesting.

She raises her arms and starts to clip my hair. As she does, her breasts move higher, and then jiggle with the motion of her hands. I groan, tempted beyond belief. Does she know how it feels like eternity since I last touched her? I ain’t a patient man, and she’s presenting me with something impossible to resist.

I reach out and brush my hand over the tip of one of those delectable breasts.

Ivy gasps and her hands jerk against my hair. “Boone,” she protests weakly.

“Don’t care,” I tell her, and wrap my arms around her waist. I pull her against me and nuzzle one of those sexy little breasts, because I’m tired of waiting. “I want you,” I tell her, peppering kisses onto her skin.

She moans and I feel her hands clench against my shoulders. “You shouldn’t touch me,” she breathes. “I think I just cut off a big chunk of hair.”

“Don’t care,” I repeat. She can finish this groomin’ shit later. It’s time for me to claim her. Now that I’ve got my mouth on her? I’m not going to let her slip out of my grip. I rub my mouth across one of her nipples. It’s tight and hard, but her skin is so soft and smells so sweet, and I can feel her entire body tremble when I do that. I graze my mouth over it again, then drag my tongue over the tip.