Page 44 of Billionaire Devil

But what the hell. When in Rome and all that.

The kiss was—without being dramatic about it—the most intense thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.

I want more.

I want tofeel.

I want to follow those cravings he so easily inspires and see where they lead me.

And I want it as hot and dirty and sweaty as possible.

So I mentally lock my heart into its little steel fortress and throw away the key. Or at least stash it in an air-tight compartment for now.

For better or worse, closing off my heart is something I know how to do. My father left before I was born, my mother died before I could say goodbye and the one guy I ever thought I might have loved strung me along for years but gave me nothing.

I can do it again.

I’m going to havefun, starting now. That’s what I’ve decided. I’m going to throw all caution to the wind and make the most of a rare opportunity that will soon end.

He promised to show me the time of my life. So that’s exactly what I’m going to have.

12

Monday

Nashville, Tennessee

I’m completely charmedby Nashville from the minute the city skyline comes into view.

“Look, there’s the Batman Building!” I point out. I’ve watched online video tours of Nashville online. It always looks so cool and colorful, and the reality is even more vibrant, with a cowboyish, gritty edge.

“Welcome to Music City, darlin’,” Colton grins at me.

We drive straight down Broadway and even though it’s only mid-afternoon, the place is already pumping. The street is packed with people dressed like they’re going to a rodeo. Music is blasting from the open doors and windows of the many, many bars. It’s so loudyou canfeelthe bass notes. “I wish I had some cowgirl boots,” I say, more to myself than to Colton.

I’m wearing one of my own dresses, hand-sewn. It’s a babydoll style, off-white with white flowers I embroidered by hand and a lacy hem that comes to the middle of my thighs. It’s cute and comfortable. And it would look good with cowgirl boots.

Colton swerves the RV over to the curb so suddenly I grip my armrests for dear life.

“What are you doing?”

“Buying you some cowgirl boots. There’s a boot store right there.”

“You can’t park here.”

“Watch me, Sunshine. Come on.” He kills the engine, jumps out of his seat and unclasps my seatbelt, pulling me by the hand down the steps of the RV and out onto the street, like it’s Christmas morning or something and he can’t wait to get started. Then he pulls a roll of cash out of his pocket and peels off a hundred dollar bill. To a passing couple who are probably in their sixties, he says, “I’ll pay you a hundred bucks now and two hundred when we get back if you’ll sit in this RV for twenty minutes and honk if a parking cop comes. We need to buy some boots.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” says the husband. His wife nods enthusiastically. They look wholesome and trustworthy.

Colton pulls me into the boot store—which has more cowboy boots in one place than I’ve ever seen.

“Wow,” I murmur.

“What size are you?” Colton asks me.

“Seven.”

We find the aisle with the sevens and, right there, the very first pair that catches my eye, is the perfect pair of cowgirl boots. They’re brown suede with little white flowers stitched all over them. I pick them up and I do what I always do. I look at the price.

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