He had already told her that. And he deserved better than the prickly crap she was giving him now. Trouble was, she didn’t know how to handle this situation. It was the first time in ages that she’d had sex. The best sex she’d had in her life. Which kinda meant she needed to escape asap. Because she wasn’t about to let her happy hormones make her go overboard for him.
So what was the protocol? How did she get out of here as fast as possible without being too abrupt?
“Where can I drop you?” He seemed to sense her growing discomfort.
“Oh.” She licked her lips and tried to shift back from him. She lifted on her knees, her sprits inwardly sinking as he left her body. She quickly wriggled to slip her panties back in place. “Nowhere. I’ll walk from here.”
“That’s not happening.”
“Of course it is. You may not have noticed, but I have two legs, two feet, all fully functioning.”
“I’m extremely aware that your whole body functions spectacularly, but I’m still giving you a lift home.”
“Thanks anyway, but I’d prefer to walk.” She couldn’t quite see, but she was certain he’d just rolled his eyes. She ground her teeth. “There’s no crime in Summerhill—”
She broke off at his laughter.
“Sugar, it’s not safe for you to walk these streets this late at night.” He sighed as if she were stupid.
She tensed and tried to shift off his lap. Because she was not stupid. She could take care of herself.
His hands stroked more firmly down her back, still supposedly soothing, but holding her in place at the same time. “It’s not safe for anyone to walk out at this time of night..”
“I have pepper spray.” And if he wasn’t careful, she’d test whether that was still functioning in a minute.
“That’s not going to save you from the snow,” he replied, amusement rippling through him. “It’s not just people you have to protect yourself from here, it’s the weather as well.”
She took advantage of his relaxed moment to quickly slither off his lap and onto the seat beside him. “Look out the window, it’s a clear sky. I’ll be fine.”
“You could still slip and fall. Hit your head. Lie there unconscious and get hypothermia and be halfway to dead before morning.”
“Wow. And you told me not to dramatize.”
“This isn’t the safe environment you think it is, this village is clinging to the edge of a massive mountain. You have to think about all the possibilities and take precautions.”
“I’ve managed the walk home every night so far without incident…”
“And tonight you don’t have to.”
She glared at him. She did not want to be dropped home, like it was some kind of reward or duty or something. She just wanted to be gone. Now.
“I was just inside you for fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “But oh no, you’ve got to do the independence thing.” He reached past her and flicked open the car door. “Fine. Be gone, then.”
She laughed at his flash of irritation. It was the only thing she could do. Or she’d cry and crawl back into his arms and ask him to take her to his home and hold her forever. So not happening. He’d already made it clear that wasn’t ever going to happen. And she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself. She wasn’t ever going to need someone in that humiliating way—where you gave up everything you had, would do anything to be with the one you wanted.
For once she couldn’t think of the right come-back. He didn’t deserve her bitch act. But she didn’t want to be needy either. She refused to be needy, even if parts of her were yearning for him again already.
Businesslike. She finally hit on it. That was the way to deal with him. With a polite, businesslike goodbye.
“Thanks,” she said, turning to say farewell. “I had a nice—”
“Don’t you dare,” he interrupted viciously. “No fucking ‘nice’ manners from you.” With a sharp, vicious movement he leaned across and crushed her mouth with his. Startled, for a second she stiffened, only then his mouth softened and so did she. Heated. He sought pardon with his tongue, stroking deeply, stoking her response. Passionate, carnal. It was like he imprinted his masculine sexuality on her. His damn master kissing skills.
Slowly he drew back, his breathing roughened. “And no regrets.”
She couldn’t answer. He’d kissed her brains out.
He watched, motionless while she fumbled with the car door and stepped out into the dark night.
She walked as quickly as she could for the five minutes ’til she reached the small block of units, aware that a huge black SUV was slowly, pointedly, tailing her. Quite the chivalrous guy, wasn’t he? Freaking heroic. The low rumble of the powerful engine was the bass to the beat of words in her head.
Do not turn and invite him in. Do not turn.
The hunger within her roared. Her body was insanely hot.
Sex. More sex. More of that man.
It was like she had a nympho inside her. She breathed the icy air in large gulps. She needed to cool down.
Do not turn.
Her blood pulsed. That one last kiss had obliterated all the remnants of her orgasmic satisfaction. Now she was has hungry again. Hungrier in fact. Because she knew what she could get from him.
You never even saw him naked.
Finally she got to her small unit. Quickly she unlocked it, stepped inside. Locked the door again. Not to keep anyone out, but to stop herself running out there and begging him for more.
Stupid.
She leaned against the door, listening. Heard the engine of that car rev more powerfully as he increased speed. She kept listening until she could hear the engine no more.
She glanced down, saw she’d pressed her fists to her chest. Thank heaven he’d finished up his job and was leaving town. He’d be out of sight, so she could get him out of her mind. She’d not get obsessed, not lose herself and be bound in a relationship that only broke everything. She refused to lose all she’d built in her life—not like her parents had.
But she knew, he could so easily become her obsession.
Chapter Four
A nice time?
Connor barely restrained the urge to turn around, bang on her door and demand entry. He’d strip her completely and screw her to within an inch of her sanity. Have her suffer from orgasm overload, exhaust her to the point where she had to sleep for ten days straight...
A nice time?
He laughed at himself. Drama, much?
But he’d just had the best time ever. All he wanted to do was drive back to her, carry her to bed, and do it properly. That had been too fast. Too clothed. Too cramped. He hadn’t had sex in a car in years and now he remembered why. His muscles ached from not being able to stretch out. His brain hurt from the regret of not seeing her.
Admittedly, it was the first time he’d had sex in ages. He’d had to keep himself mostly clothed in order to contain his urge to just pump and come with in two minutes of getting his hands on her.
He drove to the Lodge, slowing as he wound up the walled driveway to take in the view of the massive building. The welcome lights were on, creating that postcard perfect picture. It was so damn majestic. And the ramifications of the last half hour hit him.
This building, the mountain, the whole damn empire was his. So what the hell had he been thinking? He wasn’t supposed to have sex with her. He’d wanted to scope her out. The two second Google search he’d done had confirmed his suspicions. She was Tony Nash’s daughter. The man Connor’s father had given investment advice to. Crap advice, as it had turned out.
Technically Rex had done nothing wrong. Tony had chosen to invest and he ought to have done his own due diligence. But Connor knew Rex could cast a spell over almost anyone— Connor had felt badly about it and there’d been rumblings of press interest since Rex had started his sideline occupation of speaker’s circuit. He believed too much in his own success story. But Summerhill was Connor’s success story. And he wasn’t having it shred
ded now. And any investment success in recent times was his brother Logan’s.
His father was a fraud in other ways. So a press spread was the last thing Connor wanted. No investigative journalists probing the lives of the apparently perfect Hughes clan and the glamorous ‘power couple’ behind the exclusive resort. There were too many things that could come out. Infidelity wasn’t illegal, but it tainted reputations. It would irrevocably mar the pristine snow perfection.
Connor had seen the letters Tony Nash had sent. And he’d taken action. He’d used a shell company and bought the three star hotel owned by Tony. Paid more than he needed to. But he’d ensured the man’s financial recovery.
Did that mean he’d bought his silence? Not at all. The Summerhill empire was always looking at expansion possibilities off the mountain. They bought and sold other companies all the time depending on their growth plan.
But he knew Tony Nash didn’t have any money problems now.
So why had his daughter turned up? He knew she’d been to reception and asked if Rex was available to talk. And when she’d been told he wasn’t, she’d asked for Connor.
When his receptionist had asked for the reason, Savannah had left.
Why? What did she want to discuss? Did she want more money?
Connor’s suspicions belatedly resurged. It was no coincidence that she’d picked up a job in town. A job working for his father’s enemy. Bill Reid owned one of the few bits of land on the mountain that the Hughes didn’t control. And with his wife and sons he operated the town’s most successful restaurant and bar on it—St Clair’s. It was all too suspicious.
But instead of finding out more about why Savannah was here and what it was she wanted, Connor had lost his head and gone for a few minutes of hedonistic pleasure.
Stupid.
He’d always sworn never to compromise his principles for lust. He’d reckoned he had the one thing his father didn’t—integrity. He’d vowed never to be like Rex with his countless freaking affairs… Seemed Connor was as weak and as blinded when confronted with a desirable woman.
Pathetic.
Trouble was, he wanted her again already.
Not happening. He’d concentrate on work and that didn’t mean operating the damn lifts all day. He’d indulged in that enough. But he’d needed to be out there on the mountain and remember what it was he really loved.
“Good night, sir?” The night porter held the door for him.
“Yes, thanks,” Connor answered briefly. “Can you send Marilyn up to me in ten?”
“Of course.”
He’d get a debrief on how the day had gone from the bar and restaurant manager.
He had to pull it together. He wasn’t going back to St Clair’s—the competition. Wasn’t going to see what it was the beautiful Savannah wanted. Whether he was what she wanted again.
He took the secret spiral staircase at the back of the huge industrial kitchen and climbed the couple hundred stairs to the very, very top.
He’d worked so long and hard for this week and all he was rewarded with was a sense of disillusionment. Was this it? Finally he’d gotten what he’d worked so hard for so long for, yet he felt so… blah. Logan, his brother, had gone back to New York. Dani, his baby sister had also taken time out—running to New York to escape him and his adamant order that she return to varsity.
And he’d finally gotten his parents away on some Mediterranean cruise. It was the first vacation his father had had in years and it was only because Connor had booked it. He’d had to threaten him with exposure if he hadn’t gone. Though he and his father both knew it was an empty threat. Connor would never do anything to jeopardise Summerhill. So Rex had taken the official retirement line. Connor had complete control of the company.
No more screw-ups.
He tapped the security code to unlock the thick wooden door at the stop of the last curl of stairs. His father had thought he was mad to want the attic space as his own suite but he loved it. Loved the isolation and view. He could lock himself away, work on his computer and only had to glance up to survey his whole world through the windows.
He stepped straight into the shower and sluiced away the dried sweat from that insane encounter. He flicked the faucet to freezing to force heated memories from his head. He roughly toweled off and pulled on clean jeans and a tee. He’d just switched on his computer when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he called.
Marilyn walked in, looking nervous.
“No problems?” he asked.
“No, everything’s smooth. Slight trouble with a few unruly guests in the bar but they’re staying at the apartments, not in the hotel. We encouraged them to head home.”
Connor nodded. “Covers at the restaurant? Takings from the bar?”
“Not bad. But not on target.”
He knew why that was. St Clair’s, arch-rival in the restaurant scene, had scored a beautiful trickster of a bartender. Connor settled more comfortably in his seat, he’d distract himself with details. “By how much?”
Savannah was glad she was on double shift duty again. It gave her restless body something to do. She’d helped out with waitressing in the restaurant in the late afternoon before switching back to straight bartending duty. She’d given Dante—Luca’s younger brother—a quick lesson in mixing a couple of classic cocktails in the short break between sessions.
The bar was busier than ever tonight, more a club atmosphere than the side room off a restaurant. It was good distraction and she didn’t need to keep watching the door. He wasn’t going to walk in. He’d gone.
She eyed the bottles lined up behind the bar, hunting for her neon green water bottle. Luca had probably hidden it. He didn’t think it suited the black and white decor of the venue. But she needed to rehydrate and keep her mind sharp. The cocktail crowd had finally arrived and wanted a show. So what if she’d had no sleep last night? She could still juggle three bottles of vodka with the best of them.
She glanced over as a group of young women in peacock pretty dresses walked in. Perfect, they’d definitely want complicated concoctions. And there was her own water bottle—she’d left it by the ice bucket. Good.
“Another beer, doll.” Ultimate Jerk-Off and his side-kicks were there of course. Had been since they’d opened for the evening. Though they’d not bothered with eating tonight, opting to prop up the bar and drink. She was going to have to monitor them. But Luca could be the one to tell them when they’d had enough. She was done with dealing with them.
“Hey babe,” Ultimate Jerk-off winked at one of the cocktail queens who, Savannah was pleased to see, simply turned her back to him.
Ten cocktail creations later Savannah took another long swig from her water bottle. Serving so many beautiful, rich young things was hot and thirsty work. She wanted a break, just for a minute. She leaned her elbows on the bar. She could forget about the customers in front of her for five, couldn’t she?
But then her mind started trailing down a path she really didn’t want it to. Memories stirred sensations. Heat, closeness. Darkness.
Her vision blurred. She blinked, trying to refocus. Breathed in. Why did her lungs feel corseted? Maybe she needed something to eat? Had she even had dinner tonight? She couldn’t remember. She picked up her water bottle and took another sip.
“Excuse me? Can I get served please?” Another regular waved at her.
“Of course you can darling,” she smiled widely at him. “Sorry.”
The younger guy blinked and then flashed a huge smile back at her. “Okay. Great. I need champagne.”
“Of course you do,” Savannah purred. “A jeroboam tonight? Or just a magnum?”
His jaw dropped open. “A jeroboam sounds good, if you’ll have some with me?”
She thought about it while she found the right bottle in the fridge out back. Except thinking seemed to take a lot of time. How long was it since she’d had champagne?
Too long.
“Save me a glass,
” she murmured as she popped the giant bottle in front of her super-alert customer.
“Sure thing. I’m right here. Saving everything for you.”
“Nice.” Savannah licked her lips, vaguely noticing the guy’s eyes widen. But damn she felt thirsty. For water.
Someone came in through the door. Damn—was she still looking? But wait. This guy had ultra short hair. Ultra blue eyes.
OMG.
Her body flushed super hot. And she froze. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Hadn’t he finished his work up on the mountain? Why hadn’t he left town? Damn, but her body didn’t care. Nope, her body flooded with pleasure like she’d been starving for centuries. He wasn’t in the fluoro gear tonight, but jeans and a thin sweater. She saw more of his muscles. He was tall but not obscenely bulky. Whipcord strong. She knew there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his utterly honed torso.
She wanted to lick that torso. Again.
Was it her or had there been a second of stillness, of silence in the bar when he’d walked in? Impossible, the background dance beat was till blaring. It was that commanding presence that everyone in the restaurant seemed to be aware of. She frowned as she watched a few people go over and talk to him. A couple of the ultra-rich guys, a few more of the especially glam women. Their laughter rang too loud. Obsequious. King of the Mountain.
He wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t laughing. He was looking at her. And there was that anger banked in his eyes again. She liked it. She knew what it really was.
Lust.
Savannah pressed her hands down flat on the wood, trying to steady herself. Her legs wobbled, her brain had turned into cotton wool. She wanted to be bare assed and riding his cock again this second. To have gone from celibate to insatiable in less than twenty-four hours?
And damn, if he didn’t owe her. She’d not had the amazing night’s sleep he’d promised. Instead she’d lain awake thinking about what they’d done. What else they should have done. And he was going to pay for that. Long and slow this time. And hard.
Bound For Me Page 5
