Bound For Me

by Natalie Anderson

“I’m not the one with second thoughts all the time. I want you to be sure that this is what you want. I don’t want you to have regrets.” He watched her so closely. So intently.

  “You don’t want me to think badly of you?”

  “I don’t want you to think badly of you.”

  So not going to happen. “Take me. Here now. Hard,” she challenged.

  She wanted to forget. She wanted it fast.

  Fast and hard was safe.

  She was sick of fighting it. Sick of lying in her bed alone wishing he was there, caressing her, filling her… no, fucking her.

  Not having all of him last night was the stupidest thing she’d done. Because all she’d done since was think of him. Not checking out this place properly. Not concentrating. She was so damn distracted.

  She stretched out on the thick rug, then rolled to her stomach, tossing her head so her hair tumbled behind her and she could see him as she shimmied her jeans and panties halfway down her thighs.

  He ran his palm down her spine and she arched into the touch as he got to her butt.

  “Damn it Savannah.” He muttered, his voice husky. “It’s the middle of the day, I have—”

  “Do you want to or not?”

  A muffled growl. “Too quick.”

  “Never. I’m ready. Feel for yourself.”

  He choked—a half-laugh, half-gasp. “You’re so outrageously bold. The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He shifted, pushing one knee between her jeans-hampered legs. “Or heard.”

  Truth was she’d never spoken to a guy the way she spoke to him. Had never wanted to. Never thought to. But somehow he’d unleashed all her inner naughty.

  And it seemed she’d done the same to him, because it wasn’t his cock that he tested her with. But his tongue. She moaned, writhed.

  “So wet.” He muttered. “So delicious.”

  “Now,” she gasped. “I want to come with you in me.” She wanted him—no, his cock. She was thinking purely physical. Nothing but two bodies seeking satisfaction.

  Nothing truly intimate.

  “You like it a little animal?”

  “So do you.”

  In answer he wrapped his arms around her so he could use one hand on her clit, the other cupping her breast, his fingers working her nipple through the lace of her bra. A tight, top-to-toe erotic embrace. With all his weight he pinned her in place so she didn’t slide away as he thrust into her.

  And he thrust. Fierce.

  Yeah, in this, they were so well matched. Because she loved having all of him on her like this, of the limited room he had to slide inside because of her inability to spread her legs wide.

  Tight. Hot. Wet. Heavy.

  “More,” she muttered. “Move. More.” Sensation rippled, she pushed, wanting deeper.

  He thrust again. Then again. And she met him, stroke for stroke.

  His fingers rubbed. Quickly. Not gently. She trembled, her senses hurtling towards the destination. Wanting it so badly. Harder. Harder.

  She moaned, another wordless plea.

  He held her more tightly. Her fingers curled into the plush pile of the wool carpet.

  She closed her eyes, released a keening cry as his body slammed hers into orgasm.

  She rested her head on her arms, limp, exposed. But right now she couldn’t move. He’d moved to lie beside her, but she could still barely breathe. As she recovered from the climax, he smoothed his hand over her lower back and butt in circling motions. He was probably aiming to soothe her, but all he was doing, was stirring up her lust again.

  Damn. She really had turned nympho.

  “Feel better?” he asked, sounding so smug.

  “A little.” She aimed for ‘marginally impressed’ just to tease and followed through with a brass-balls comment. “A quick fuck wasn’t going to fix everything.”

  That was true, though it had helped her forget for a moment.

  But the real kicker was, Connor was right. He hadn’t lied to her. Her own father had. He’d taken the savings she’d given him and gambled them. One last throw on Lady Luck. And left Savannah with nothing. Maybe all this bitterness towards Summerhill and it’s resident might-as-well-be-royal family had been misplaced.

  And maybe she was in trouble.

  “Then we’d better try that again,” Connor said. “Slower.”

  Yeah. She was definitely in trouble.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Connor watched as she rolled away and stood, pulling up her panties and jeans in the one movement. But he’d seen her flinch.

  She didn’t want it slow? She didn’t want it in bed?

  He said nothing as she quickly pulled her top back on. He still hadn’t had her completely naked. Still hadn’t had her enough.

  The fact she was carrying the condoms made him hard all over again. She wanted this the way he did. Uncontrollably. But she was acting like it was clinical kind of need. Demanding a quick in, quick out. So she could remain detached?

  He walked through to the bathroom and sorted himself out, grimacing as he pulled the zipper on his jeans. He’d liked it when she’d reddened. When she’d moaned. She’d been hot and passionate. God, he was doing it again. Harder, hotter. For longer. He wanted her in his bed. For hours. Wanted to feel her hot mouth over his skin. No clothes. No haste. Nothing but time and space to fully explore.

  But when he walked back into the room she didn’t even look at him. She stood at the window, staring stonily out at the beautiful view.

  “I need to get going,” she said briskly. “I’ll call in at home and change before my shift.”

  “I’ll meet you at the bar when you’re finished. Give you a ride.”

  He did meet her at the bar at the end of the night. Drove her home. They made it to the lounge before falling to the floor, grappling to get free enough of clothing to touch parts most hot and wet.

  The second night, he needed to see her sooner. He spent the last half hour of opening time watching her from a stool at the end of the bar. Entertained—enthralled—by her slick tricks with the bottles, the tart attitude that still dripped from her tongue. The sharp, deft, but somehow delightful way she turned down the offers she invariably got.

  They only just made it inside her doorway before he had her pinned against the wood.

  The night after that, he sat on that barstool for hours watching the way she interacted with the regulars and made an efficient fuss of the newbies. The way she had them all like putty. And afterwards, she had his jeans unzippered by the time he’d started the engine of the SUV, curling her hand around his hard cock. Thank God he knew the roads so well or he’d never have made it to her unit.

  The night after that, the attention she got from half her customers was starting to annoy him. He leaned over the bar. “I want to be alone with you.”

  “This one time, you’re going to have to suck it up,” she said. “It won’t hurt you not to get what you want. At least, not right away.”

  “You really want to teach me a lesson or two, don’t you?” He laughed. “You can’t stand me getting it all too easy. But the stupid thing is, you want exactly what I want too. You’re cutting off your nose to spite your face.”

  “I’m at work.” She looked up at him. “I can control my want.”

  He ignored the pierce of that little barb to tease her more. “Why do you feel you have to?” he raised his hands theatrically. “Why can’t you just enjoy what’s there to be enjoyed? Why not slow and easy and all night?”

  She just laughed.

  Connor waited out the rest of her shift. Getting madder at the interplay with most of the young, male customers.

  “They never let up, do they? Guys ask you out all the time. Calling you gorgeous or sweetheart or darling or babe…” It pissed him off.

  “They only do it to try and provoke me into a rude rejection.” She was looking at him somewhat surprised. Suddenly she smiled. “I was thinking about putting a ring on my finger and telling them my boyfriend back home in Bell
e has proposed.”

  He stared at her for a moment, his brain not functioning at all.

  She laughed again—not the teasing, vixenish, defensive, laugh of before, but a full ringing sound of delight. “You should see the look on your face.”

  His heart pounded. Hard.

  Cardiac arrest averted. Just.

  The thought of a boyfriend back in her home town? He curled his hands into fists and pressed them into his thighs, fighting back the urge to reach for her.

  But he did love that belly laugh of hers. So rare. So much fun.

  She couldn’t let him stay the night, though she wanted to. But they never even made it to the bed. They screwed up against the wall mostly. Too eager for touch. Too hungry to make it further. She’d quickly gotten into the habit of removing her panties before getting into his car. Anything to make his access easier, to make it quicker at the other end.

  But the gnawing hunger of desire only grew.

  And now, almost a week since her official Summerhill tour, they’d gotten to the point where they just screwed in the car again—not even making it further away from the restaurant.

  Quick. Intense. Right back to where they’d started.

  “Faster,” she panted, rocking her hips, aching to press down and impale herself on him. “Now.”

  “Hell woman,” he gripped her ass tightly, tilting her so he could get the angle he needed. “Always in such a damn hurry.”

  But he was breathless too. His hips thrust against hers in that sublime way.

  “Ohhhhh,” she cried out.

  So good. Every time it was better. Every time it was not enough.

  But she slipped off him, asked him to drop her home. And said nothing more.

  Maintaining emotional distance was her number one priority.

  Even so, in these last few days there’d been those moments of laughter. And those moments when she saw him looking tired. She didn’t want to ask him about it, though she understood now how hard he did work. Always on call. Always checking.

  As their passion grew more frantic, curiosity rose inside. Unbidden. Unwanted. Unavoidable.

  “Long day?” she asked, another week into their nightly trysts, as she looked at him frowning down at his phone.

  He glanced up, surprised. “You really want to know?” He laughed as he checked his screen again. “Procurement issues.”

  “You have trouble getting what you need?”

  “Sometimes.” He looked at her meaningfully.

  “All I need is the ride home,” she leaned over and whispered conspiratorially. “Nothing more.”

  “And the faster the better?”

  “You’re getting it.”

  “Yeah I am.” He nodded.

  But early the next morning, when she’d come to work just to fill in time, he came in looking tense.

  “What’s up?” she asked, wiping the bar harder.

  “Looking for Krista.”

  “Why Krista?” A flare of jealousy shot under her ribs.

  “I have a problem and I know she’ll more than likely help me. She’s nice that way. Accommodating.”

  “Careful,” Savannah warned. “If Luca hears you talking like that. He’s more than likely to knock you out.”

  “He can try.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  He looked back down at his phone, tapping out a text reply. “Like you’re really interested?”

  “Curious. Not necessarily interested. What is it?”

  “Wedding tomorrow. Huge. Fabulous guests already installed and swanning around with their pre-wedding celebrations. Their ‘specially picked’ florist arrived early this morning but is now down with a stomach bug. Austin’s put her in isolation and her assistant, just in case, but the potential for disaster is huge. Meanwhile, the flowers need care and placing. I have another florist, but she needs help.”

  “You have tonnes of staff”

  “Three more flower people are isolated. The others are all very busy working on the other arrangements. So, seeing Krista is not here, I’m going to help her.”

  “You’re going to arrange flowers?”

  “Sure.”

  “This I gotta see.”

  “Don’t you have a job of your own to do?”

  “No,” she tossed the cleaning cloth. “I was just filling in time. The kitchen guys will be here in a bit and I’m not officially on for about four hours.”

  “Hmm. Do you think you might even help?”

  “If you play your cards right, I might.”

  He suddenly smiled. “Even though I’m the enemy?”

  She sighed. “You already know I’ve given up on that. You know I’m toothless.”

  “I would never have said that.”

  “Why Krista?” Savannah asked, once they’d loaded into his SUV. Given the amount of snow around, she was now glad of his over-sized, super-powerful car.

  “She’s always looking for some extra work. In case you’ve not noticed, she works long hours at St Clair’s too.”

  “I thought that was because she likes being near Luca.”

  “Sure. And that’s a Romeo and Juliet relationship if ever there was one. Luca’s father doesn’t want her with him. She doesn’t come from money, so that’s an issue for him.”

  “What is it with fathers?” Savannah rolled her eyes.

  Laughing, he reached over and rubbed his hand on her knee. “Anyway, Luca’s finally grown a pair and has gone for it. Well, at least while Bill’s away.”

  “You know about everyone’s relationships?”

  “It’s not that big a town.”

  And he was the almighty overseer, wasn’t he?

  “You wanna see the set-up?” He wheedled, with a wink as he pulled up outside the Lodge. “Summerhill at it’s most romantic?”

  “Where did you get all these flowers from?” Amazed she stared around the room filled with beautiful scented blooms. The hills were nothing but snow out there. Beautiful but barren.

  “Sugar, this is Summerhill, you can get just about anything if you pay enough.” Connor chuckled.

  “I guess that’s something you you’d know about,” she said tartly. She turned back towards the room, breathing in the gorgeous aromas. “I’ll help you, but I’m not taking any money from you.”

  “You’re helping me out as a friend?” He sent her a meaningful look.

  “I’m just helping.”

  He took her hand and pulled her into the depths of the room. “Come and meet Gwyn, she’s the stand-in florist.”

  Turned out there was actually a woman half-buried amongst the masses of blooms. Gwyn straightened as Connor called to her. She looked both stressed and relieved to see him.

  “Gwyn, this is Savannah, another set of hands for you.”

  “Oh thank you.”

  “No problem,” Savannah nodded. “Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

  “Why do you never say that to me?” Connor asked, plaintive yet good-humored. And sexy.

  She quelled the shiver than ran through her. “You’re too used to getting your own way.”

  “Not with you,” he purred.

  “Then pick someone else. There are many woman who’d line up to do your beck and call. Indulge your every whim.”

  He grimaced.

  “So, you know Connor well then?” Gwen interrupted, a wryly amused look on her face.

  “Not really.” Savannah turned to send him a wicked look. “I’m just using him for sex.”

  “You’re just not afraid to say the most awful thing that comes into your head, are you?” Connor leaned a hip against the table.

  “You like me for it,” she answered blandly. “Anyway, it’s the truth.”

  “Actually,” he turned to Gwyn. “Beneath all the artfully arranged prickles, Savannah conceals a soft heart. Secretly she’s falling in love with me.”

  “Actually,” Savannah turned to Gwyn and mimicked his arrogant tones. “His ego can’t cope with the
fact that I won’t fall for him and that I’m only interested in his body.”

  The woman’s mouth hung slightly ajar and she was staring from one to the other of them like she was watching the Grand Slam at Flushing Meadows. “Yeah, right. I can see that.”

  Savannah scowled. “Every woman falls for him?”

  “Who knows?” Connor smiled. “But my body’s a good place to start.”

  “Well, duh.”

  He was joking. Playing it up for his staff. And deliberately baiting her. But there was that spark of truth in every joke, right?

  She watched as he suddenly reached for his phone, again, his frown descending as he read the screen. “Just go,” she waved him off. “We’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  His eyes met hers for a prolonged moment. “Alright.”

  Gwyn looked up from the giant arrangement of flowers she was creating. “For the record, I’ve never seen Connor like that with any woman.”

  Savannah winced as she pricked herself on a rose thorn. “It’s just a game,” she sucked her finger, cursing her clumsiness so early into the floral marathon. “It’s nothing. Come on, we need to get these organized.”

  Connor couldn’t stand it any more. He wanted more of her. The nightly quickies were nothing but an appetizer and only serving to increase his hunger. He was ready for the full banquet. The only way to sate their need, was to overload. Indulge in their own little orgy.

  He fantasised about chaining her to his bed for three days. That would do it.

  “I feel like being the boss now,” he stepped in front of her as she made her way to the ballroom.

  “You are the boss. Do you want my help with the flowers, or not?” She pushed past him, a glorious bouquet weighing her down.

  He didn’t give a damn about the flowers or the wedding or anyone else. Which he knew wasn’t right, but he was going with it. He followed her to the ballroom. She marched ahead to place the decoration as the centrepiece of one of the forty linen clad round tables.

  “Savannah suggested we change the bridal table’s arrangement for a slightly smaller bouquet, I think it looks good, don’t you?” Gwyn walked up beside him, her face flushed despite the fact they’d turned the thermostat right down to keep the flowers fresh for tomorrow.