Bound For Me

by Natalie Anderson

  His smile then was tentative. Genuine. And even though she was hurt. Even though she should know better, that smile totally stole her heart.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said. Because that was the thing.

  He wasn’t perfect. But he was honest even when it was uncomfortable. That meant a lot, made mistakes easier to forgive. And made her like him—too much.

  “I should probably go,” she said.

  She should go to home to Belle, find her father, make sure he was okay.

  “No.” He grabbed her hand. “Stay. Six more nights, remember?”

  “I—”

  He kissed her. Wouldn’t stop kissing her. He knew what he did to her, didn’t he? That his kisses drugged, delighted and kicked her desire into the highest possible gear.

  He stripped her, set about pleasing her. Knowing her weak spots. Caressing them. Teasing. Yet touching her so damn reverently.

  She knew he was apologising. She didn’t want him to. She didn’t want this to deepen in that way.

  She rolled onto her stomach, pushing up onto her hands and knees. Wanting to seek oblivion in his arms.

  Just sex. Nothing but sex. Nothing but bodies fucking.

  “Hurry up,” she ordered, but her voice was croaky and weak.

  And he flipped her back, nudging her legs apart, pinning her to the bed.

  “I’m not letting you retreat Savannah. You’re right with me. Looking at me.” He kissed her again. “Like this morning. Only less cramped. Less quick.”

  She couldn’t do that. She didn’t want to be that open to him again. That would let him in too close and already her heart ached.

  “Let me touch you,” he breathed and bent his head to her breast. “Everywhere.”

  Her head fell back onto the plush pillow, her eyes closing. His touches were too good. The sight of him bracing over her, bearing down on her? Her eyes glazed as she feasted on the beauty of him. She arched instinctively, melting into his hands, her body writhing on auto… a sinuous dance to entice him.

  “That’s it Sugar, just like that.” He gripped her hand, stopping her from stroking him. He held it up high and resumed his touches.

  His damn, slow, so-good-she-was-gonna-die flicking flingers.

  But anger flared at her cellular-level response to him. At her inability to control it. She fisted her hands into the sheet beneath her. “I can’t—”

  “Yes you can…” He shushed her. Kissed her. “It’s okay.” He swept her hair back from her damp face. “Let me. Trust me.”

  She couldn’t trust anyone.

  “Damn it, Savannah.” He pulled her down the bed and pinned her arms out wide. “Let go. I’m here.”

  He was right. She was being stupid. It was just sex. Just physical pleasure and release. Nothing more serious.

  And she was lost already. Her pussy drenched from his touches, her need stoked by his insistence.

  “Let go, sugar. Just fall. I’ll catch you.” He started again. Kissing her, teasing her, until she melted.

  And only then, once she lay warm, gently responding to each touch, only then did he move to cover her. He framed her face, looking deep into her eyes and thrust into her body. Slow, sweet thrusts that hit the sweet spot every, single, time. She couldn’t speak. Her lips parted but she was barely able to meet the kisses he gifted her in between the powerful forward surges of his hips.

  “Come with me,” he ordered. “I want to feel you holding me hard, Savannah.”

  And somehow her arms were tight around him, clinging to the wide, strong breadth of his shoulders. Her legs curled around him too as finally, blessedly, he began to move that bit faster.

  “Connor,” she cried, a broken whisper. “Connor.”

  “That’s the way.” He rocked into her again. “That’s the way.”

  “Please.” She needed it faster, furious. Seeking that swift oblivion.

  “Soon.”

  This was too intense. This was too intimate. But he kept that sweetly torturous pace. Kept his eyes on her—locking her into this moment with him. Not just her body. But her heart.

  Her soul.

  “Connor—”

  “I’m here.”

  Her fingers curled hard into him as her pleasure escalated. She felt his flinch, saw the flare in his eyes. Felt his force step up a gear.

  “I want you,” he grated. “So. Fucking. Much.” He pounded. “All of you. With me.”

  Her arms, legs tightened. She lifted her hips as best she could given the way he was driving her deep into the mattress. All the while she couldn’t tear her gaze from his.

  A tempest of sensation streamed through her. She screamed, shuddering beneath him, her body contracting around him. His answering shout rang in her eyes, reverberating through her body. Her own pleasure doubling as she absorbed the extent of his.

  So much pleasure. So much passion.

  So much emotion.

  The look on his face was so searing, she couldn’t take it anymore. She closed her eyes.

  Long moments later she still lay pinned to the bed by his big body. Bound not by silk cords or metal chains, but by him alone. The sheer magnificence of him. And her inability to get enough of the delight he gave her.

  She realized she’d been played. Bait and switch. He’d promised he’d be some kind of sex slave—that she could best him. Be the boss of this. Be the one in control.

  Only he’d tricked her. Flipped her.

  And now here she was, a molten mess of lax muscles and blissed-out bones. Too close to him. Too intense. Too good. And there was no denying her response. No holding back.

  Sealed together with him, there was nothing she wouldn’t agree to if he asked.

  As she lay unable to move, all energy wrung from her body, he lifted up onto his elbows to look at her. She read raw, masculine satisfaction in his expression. A level of relief in his features that she’d not seen before.

  “That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted.”

  Savannah shut her eyes even as her body warmed and slicked and sought his possession all over again.

  What he’d wanted was her sexual submission. Sex. That was all.

  But what he’d taken, was her heart.

  She’d fallen for him. He owned the source of her father’s heartache. Her heartache. He might have been trying to do the right thing but inadvertently he’d made it so much worse.

  And now?

  She was as much of a fool as her father. As her mother.

  And the only thing she could do, was run away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Connor stretched out, smiling, eyes still closed, rousing slowly from the best sleep ever. Satisfaction still warmed him, so did the residual soreness.

  Physical? Yes.

  Fast? Hell no.

  He curled his arm around her, drawing her back against him. He liked the whole body contact and her soft sleepiness.

  But she stiffened and pulled away. Sitting up.

  “What’s wrong?” Why wasn’t she looking at him?

  Why wasn’t she rolling to face him and welcome her into her heat? He wanted to be with her again, damn the aching muscles. But she pulled away, getting right out of bed.

  “Nothing.” She pulled the nearest shirt over her head.

  It was one of his Summerhill tees. It skimmed the top of her thighs. And suited her.

  “And I’m a flying pink flamingo,” he muttered dryly. “You can’t hide your bad moods from me. Or anyone.” How the hell could she wake up moody after what they’d shared last night?

  His own mood plummeted, vulnerability slipped its sharp blade beneath his skin.

  “Don’t be smart.” She turned, hunting out her panties and jeans.

  “You got a headache?”

  “No.”

  His phone buzzed. Mentally he cursed the caller. “What is it?” he snapped.

  “Sorry Connor. There’s someone here to see you.”

  At this hour? “Who?”

/>   “He hasn’t given me his name. But he’s very insistent in a very quiet way. He’s been waiting here since eight thirty.” His manager was speaking in low tones. “I think you need to come and meet him.”

  “Eight-thirty?” What time was it now? Connor glanced at his watch and sprang from the bed. Just after ten? When in his life had he ever slept in? “Why the hell didn’t you call me sooner?”

  “I... uh.. Didn’t want—”

  “I’ll be down in five,” he growled.

  He glanced over at Savannah. She was finishing dressing, with ferocious attitude and jerky movements.

  He yanked pants and a shirt on in record time, ensuring he was only a pace behind her down the small spiral staircase.

  “I’m leaving,” she finally said something just as they got to the bottom.

  “To go to work?” He held the door for her to go through the small lounge near his private entrance on the ground floor.

  “Leaving Summerhill.”

  “Not yet you’re not.”

  “You’re not the boss of me.”

  “Now is not the time for drama. You’re not leaving. Look last night was—”

  “I’m sorry if this is a bad time.” Another voice chimed in.

  Connor froze. He hadn’t realized his manager had let the guy wait in here.

  “Of course not.” Connor span towards the sound of the voice, automatically switched into hotel mode.

  He sent Savannah a quick glance. Her eyes widened at the sight of the younger man rising from one of the large armchairs. A bad feeling surged in Connor’s gut.

  “How can I help you?” Connor asked the guy, but kept watching Savannah.

  Had she gone pale?

  “You okay Savannah?” He frowned.

  “I’m fine. You deal with… your meeting.”

  No thanks. He wanted to deal with her. But she was staring at the other man again and looking like she’d seen a ghost.

  “You found who you were looking for,” she said.

  “Looks like it.”

  What did that mean? Connor turned to face the newcomer and flinched. He was the guy Savannah had served at the bar last night. The one she’d smiled at. “How can I help you?”

  He heard Savannah close the door behind her and inwardly cursed.

  But the man was looking at him with a curiously fixed expression. “My…” He cleared his throat. “My name’s Jack Gibbs. My mom was Mary-Jo Gibbs.”

  Connor felt frozen to the spot. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” He didn’t want to admit to the resemblance. But it was so there.

  “Not to you. But it might to your father.” Jack’s gaze grew more intense. “Our father.”

  For a moment Connor didn’t know what to say.

  “I’ve been in town a few days,” Jack added. “Figuring out how to approach him.”

  Rex. Who wasn’t here.

  But here was another person looking for him. Looking for answers. Looking for—what, money? Payback?

  “I spoke to one of your former employees.” Jack added.

  “Oh?”

  “She got a large severance package recently.”

  Cynthia. And it hadn’t been a severance package. It had been a… a… he didn’t know what. Connor’s blood chilled. She’d been in the bar last night. With this guy. And with Savannah. Savannah who’d just told him she was leaving. Who wouldn’t look at him.

  Who wouldn’t kiss him this morning.

  Connor’s stomach churned. “So you’ve spoken with some people. What, you want money? Like Cynthia?”

  Anger flashed on Jack’s face. “What?”

  He couldn’t be feeling half as angry as Connor.

  Had Savannah known? Is that why she’d been in such a hurry to leave? Was she part of an unholy trinity sent to bring him down?

  Jeez, he’d been played. Beautifully.

  His original plan had been to distract her He’d only distracted himself. He hadn’t even seen this coming. He’d been such a fool. Falling for her. Talking to her. Trusting her. Wanting more. But she’d betrayed him. Used him.

  He’d screwed up by screwing around. Just like his father. Letting his lust blind him. Letting it become uncontrollable. Leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

  What the hell did she think she could do—throw a grenade and run? Was she going to watch the avalanche from a distance?

  Like hell.

  He held up his hand. “I need a minute.” He turned and walked before the guy could reply.

  But as he slammed the door, he heard the mutter. “You need more than a minute.”

  Connor didn’t give a monkey’s. He needed to talk to Savannah. Now.

  A lifetime of walking on iced-up, snow slippery paths gave him the advantage. Stubborn woman wouldn’t take a freaking hotel courtesy car home. No. She had to walk in her goddamn ride-him-hard boots. She wasn’t even halfway down the curved private road.

  “Savannah!” he shouted.

  She turned, so surprised she slipped. What? Had she thought he was going to be waylaid for a decent amount of time arguing over dollar amounts with his new found half brother?

  “Where the fuck are you going?” he yelled at her.

  “Where the fuck do you think?” she roared right back at him, straightening, spreading her feet to fight stance.

  And of all the freaking things, that just turned his stupid cock hard again. And that made him angrier than he’d been in his entire life. “I thought it was going to be a media beat-up. But it was worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You brought him here, didn’t you?” He stomped up to within a breath of her.

  “Who?”

  “Jack Whatever-the-fuck his other name is. My father’s bastard.”

  Her cheeks suddenly flushed, but he didn’t give her the chance to speak.

  “You let me think you were over it,” he said. “But you’re not. You’ve set me up. You’re so warped it’s unbelievable.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You think that guy has anything to do with me?”

  Of course he did. She was the one walking away. Not talking to him. Not touching him. The one who’d come here wanting to make him and his father pay somehow… the one who’d gone pale at the sight of him moments before. And who’d gone guilty red now.

  “How can you think that?” she demanded.

  “He was with Cynthia last night. And he was talking to you at the bar. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.”

  “I can’t believe it either. Paranoid, much?” She gaped at him. “Who the hell is Cynthia?”

  “My father’s assistant.” Connor’s brain scrambled through the last few months of nightmares—of his father’s financial losses, his latest, most tortured indiscretion with his assistant. “She obviously wants more money—”

  “More money?” Savannah stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “So you paid her off? And by your father’s ‘assistant’, you mean ex-lover?”

  “So you have talked to her.”

  “You’re the one who told me about your father’s assistants.” Her expression changed, she wrinkled her nose. “You really paid her off?”

  “She… resigned.” He stepped back, aware of the revulsion in her eyes.

  “Very conveniently,” she said sarcastically. “I’d not seen that guy until he first walked into the bar a couple days ago and it was only a moment ago that I saw…”

  “What?”

  “He has your jaw-line… and your… you share a look. And he’d told me he was looking for someone. My bet was Rex.”

  “Your ‘bet’?” He scoffed disbelievingly. “You knew all along.”

  “You’re crazy. You probably think I poisoned your florist or something as well.”

  He wasn’t crazy. He was—

  “You pride yourself on your honor. You’re every bit as dishonorable as your father.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Enabling Rex is wrong. He screws around and you qu
ietly come along after him with your hush money.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Isn’t it?” Her temper flared. “I can’t believe I fell for it. The whole Connor-fly-in-and-rescue, or fundraise-for-sick-kids shtick? It’s an act. You ‘save’ people only for the corporate goodwill it gives you. To make yourself look human. You’re just trying to hide the corrupt foundations of your crap company. But there’s no heart in it, because you have no heart.”

  He stared at her, his brain starting to click on. He realized his mistake—that his own fears might have led him down a very slippery slope.

  But Savannah was on a roll now. And she wasn’t stopping.

  “The only reason you first took care of me was because you wanted to water down the drugging incident. You didn’t want Summerhill getting any bad press. This has only ever been about minimising risk for you.”

  “Minimising risk?” He glared at her, stung. “So that’s why I ended up in a brawl with the asshole?”

  “Damage control.” She snapped. “You come off as the hero. You’re so fucking manipulative.”

  “What? So why did I have sex with you in public places, several times? Was that all about reducing risk too?”

  “That was all about you getting off.”

  “Like you didn’t?”

  “Of course I did. But I began to trust you. I let go of my resentment and told you things I’ve never told anyone.” She flung her hand wide with an angry swipe. “You were telling me to trust you just last night. You challenged me to. You made me. And now you’re turning on me? You don’t trust me. You’ve only been with me to keep an eye on me. Can you deny that?”

  “I—”

  “From the first night.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You have some self-ordained sense of responsibility for this mountain and all the people on it? The sheer arrogance is breath-taking. But what are you without your precious mountain, Connor? Without your billions and your exclusive company?”

  Connor stilled, his heart stopped. Horror hit low in his gut as he realized what she was going to say. And he already knew she was right.

  “You’re nothing but a shell. You project a perfect appearance, but there’s nothing underneath. There’s no real emotion. No desire. No love—other than for your precious white snow and your piles of dough and your stupid status. Well you can keep it all to yourself and your snobby set. I’m gone. No nasty little threat here anymore,” she sneered at him. “Stay frozen Connor.”