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.”

“We just met,” I stammer, even as he gives me another lick that sends shudders through my body. Ooooh.

He shoots me a scorching look over my skirt. “And every moment I’ve had to wait to put my mouth on you has been a thousand years. So I’m gonna savor this right now.” His hand flattens on my hip and he drops his head again, and I feel his lips brush over my clit.

A little cry escapes. That feels so incredible. His lips feel soft and yet firm as he sucks gently at my clit, and I can’t help but undulate against him as he does that. The breath is hissing from my lungs each time he licks or sucks at my flesh, until I’m practically riding his face, and intense tension is ratcheting up through my body. I’m going to scream. I’m going to explode. I’m going to shatter into a thousand pieces and no one will ever be able to put me back together again.

Instead, I come, and come hard and wet, all over his tongue. I’m a little shocked at how intensely my body has reacted, because this is the first time I’ve ever, well, had a liquid rush. But this has also been my most intense sexual experience to date . . .

And it’s still going. He hasn’t let up, even though I’m quivering with rolling wave after rolling wave of orgasm. “Boone,” I gasp, and my hand goes to his hair, to try and pull his head up and away from my thighs so I can catch a break.

He’s not stopping, though. That beard’s rubbing all over my most sensitive parts and his tongue and lips won’t stop working my clit over. I yank on his hair to try and pull him up, but in the next moment, I knot my fingers in his thick mane and hold him against my pussy because I’m coming hard and fast again, choking his name out as I do.

This time, as I gasp for air, he eases up slowly, giving me one last possessive lick before raising his head. His lips and his beard are wet from my juices, and as I watch, he rubs a hand over his mouth like a savage. “Mine, Ivy,” he growls. “That pussy’s all fucking mine. You hear me?”