Read Online Booty Call (Forbidden Bodyguards Book 2) by Ainsley Booth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ainsley Booth
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nearly half its mandate was carried out by covert agents, trained by the CIA, and sent into the field completely on their own.
And then hung out to dry if and when their missions fail—an experience I’ve had first hand.
At least I wasn’t assassinated. Something to be said for being relatively small potatoes in the world of international espionage.
I don’t know what Cole’s gotten wind of. I don’t want any part of this, unless I need to be a part of this…Fuck.
I watch the director get in a car with a driver that I’d spotted when I arrived. It heads back in the direction of Washington. Amelia Dashford Reid comes out next, on the arm of a man I don’t recognize. I snap photos, send them to Wilson, the hacker partner in The Horus Group, and set my truck in gear.
Wherever they go, I’ll follow. And when I finally get home tonight, I’ll have the world’s longest shower and wash off all of this grossness. This isn’t the life I want anymore.
Ali.
Ali is all that I want now.
— —
The next night, I’m the one who texts her.
S: Need a ride home tonight?
A: Always looking for a ride.
S: Bad girl.
A: Exactly.
And so it goes. I’m like a kid with a not-so-secret crush, but we’re dancing around it, and she’s okay with that. Each night we take a step toward actually calling what we’re doing extended foreplay. And each night we stop a little short.
We’ve done this a few times now. Sometimes I find her. Sometimes she tells me she’s out alone. I walk or drive her home, and leave her at her door because she’s still working on wearing down my willpower, and I’m still working on what I want to happen next.
But there’s no question that her texts make my day, every damn time.
And then on an unseasonably warm night in late March, she pushes the envelope a little further.
A: I’m going to be studying late tonight
S: Dashford Library?
A: Darkest corner of the campus… It’s a nice night, but I’ll be so scared to walk home all by myself…
S: You want to walk?
A: If I have company
S: What time should I pick you up?
A: Midnight
S: That’s some serious studying
A: I’m a serious girl
S: I have no doubt
A: Any chance I can turn this walk home into a booty call?
I don’t answer her. I don’t trust myself, either way. Yes, there’s a chance. There’s also a chance my inner moral compass will right itself and I’ll leave this girl alone.
Not a good one, but there’s always a chance.
—eleven—
Alison
I’m wearing a dress tonight. It’s this light cotton thing I found at the mall for twelve dollars. Hailey laughs at my love of the clearance rack, but every time I wear something like this, I feel a little more normal. And it’s not like she’s wrapping herself in Prada every day, either. But she hides her rich girl in a basket of wool that probably cost a few hundred dollars, easily. And she gives back to the community, too. But she also goes to black-tie things and…she fits in better, even if she doesn’t like it.
The only trapping of wealth I cling to is my regular spa visit and my Agent Provocateur collection.
The rest of the time I’m wearing secondhand jeans and discount dresses, yoga pants and hoodies from Old Navy.
I eat ramen noodles and iceberg lettuce, too, now that I’m living on my own.
That was a big step, because I didn’t want to get a job. Finishing my degree early…three more months to go now…was my biggest priority. I took an extra class each term, and summer school, and started my senior thesis halfway through my junior year.
And every time my faculty advisor gave me a doubting look or a gentle reminder that everyone has limits, I buckled down and did my next task even better.
I’m on the Honor Roll. I spend less than four hundred dollars a month on groceries and clothes.
And I’m addicted to Scott Mayfair.
So right now, I’m wearing a dress.
Not because it’s cheap. Not because it’s surprisingly warm
And then hung out to dry if and when their missions fail—an experience I’ve had first hand.
At least I wasn’t assassinated. Something to be said for being relatively small potatoes in the world of international espionage.
I don’t know what Cole’s gotten wind of. I don’t want any part of this, unless I need to be a part of this…Fuck.
I watch the director get in a car with a driver that I’d spotted when I arrived. It heads back in the direction of Washington. Amelia Dashford Reid comes out next, on the arm of a man I don’t recognize. I snap photos, send them to Wilson, the hacker partner in The Horus Group, and set my truck in gear.
Wherever they go, I’ll follow. And when I finally get home tonight, I’ll have the world’s longest shower and wash off all of this grossness. This isn’t the life I want anymore.
Ali.
Ali is all that I want now.
— —
The next night, I’m the one who texts her.
S: Need a ride home tonight?
A: Always looking for a ride.
S: Bad girl.
A: Exactly.
And so it goes. I’m like a kid with a not-so-secret crush, but we’re dancing around it, and she’s okay with that. Each night we take a step toward actually calling what we’re doing extended foreplay. And each night we stop a little short.
We’ve done this a few times now. Sometimes I find her. Sometimes she tells me she’s out alone. I walk or drive her home, and leave her at her door because she’s still working on wearing down my willpower, and I’m still working on what I want to happen next.
But there’s no question that her texts make my day, every damn time.
And then on an unseasonably warm night in late March, she pushes the envelope a little further.
A: I’m going to be studying late tonight
S: Dashford Library?
A: Darkest corner of the campus… It’s a nice night, but I’ll be so scared to walk home all by myself…
S: You want to walk?
A: If I have company
S: What time should I pick you up?
A: Midnight
S: That’s some serious studying
A: I’m a serious girl
S: I have no doubt
A: Any chance I can turn this walk home into a booty call?
I don’t answer her. I don’t trust myself, either way. Yes, there’s a chance. There’s also a chance my inner moral compass will right itself and I’ll leave this girl alone.
Not a good one, but there’s always a chance.
—eleven—
Alison
I’m wearing a dress tonight. It’s this light cotton thing I found at the mall for twelve dollars. Hailey laughs at my love of the clearance rack, but every time I wear something like this, I feel a little more normal. And it’s not like she’s wrapping herself in Prada every day, either. But she hides her rich girl in a basket of wool that probably cost a few hundred dollars, easily. And she gives back to the community, too. But she also goes to black-tie things and…she fits in better, even if she doesn’t like it.
The only trapping of wealth I cling to is my regular spa visit and my Agent Provocateur collection.
The rest of the time I’m wearing secondhand jeans and discount dresses, yoga pants and hoodies from Old Navy.
I eat ramen noodles and iceberg lettuce, too, now that I’m living on my own.
That was a big step, because I didn’t want to get a job. Finishing my degree early…three more months to go now…was my biggest priority. I took an extra class each term, and summer school, and started my senior thesis halfway through my junior year.
And every time my faculty advisor gave me a doubting look or a gentle reminder that everyone has limits, I buckled down and did my next task even better.
I’m on the Honor Roll. I spend less than four hundred dollars a month on groceries and clothes.
And I’m addicted to Scott Mayfair.
So right now, I’m wearing a dress.
Not because it’s cheap. Not because it’s surprisingly warm
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