Like most self-made tycoons, Connor was used to getting his way. Kristy had to stop hoping that he would understand her, and her goals, once their week together had ended.
Because the simple truth was that, like Skip, he might not.
And if Connor couldn’t do it, there was no hope whatsoever that the two of them would continue their romance.
“I totally understand if you don’t want to talk about this here,” Connor said as they stepped through the electronic glass doors, under the portico.
All too aware of the heated glance he sifted over her from head to toe every time she turned her back, and sometimes even when she didn’t, Kristy lifted her arm to signal the taxi parked at the hotel curb.
Connor stepped closer, bringing the tantalizing scent of his cologne with him and brushing her shoulder with his hard chest. He reached around behind her and drew her arm down as he handed the valet his ticket. “But we are going to talk about it.”
Ignoring the jump in her nerves, Kristy pivoted to face him. Aware how good it felt being this close to him, even when she was ticked off, she smiled up at him and asked sweetly but deliberately, “Says who?”
Interest simmered in his smoky-gray eyes as he lowered his arm to her waist. His lips curled with a self-assured smile as he told her smugly, “Says me.”
Kristy felt the hardness of his body and the swell of his biceps as a simmering silence fell between them.
“It can be back at the resort. Or we can go somewhere here in the city,” Connor continued implacably. “Your choice.”
Trying not to thrill at the possessiveness in his voice, Kristy folded her arms. “I’d prefer not to have this conversation at all.” The last thing they needed was the girls, Harry, Winnifred and Eleanor overhearing any of this, she thought. And she could tell by the way Connor was looking at her that she might be able to put it off temporarily, but only temporarily. He was not going to rest until he’d had his say.
Connor shrugged and leaned toward her familiarly. “You want to go to a restaurant?”
Kristy shook her head. That wasn’t much more private, in her view.
“Then how about my loft on Chalmers Street,” he suggested, the warmth of his body, where it pressed against her, adding new heat to hers. Looking more enamored than ever, he persisted gently and persuasively. “It’s quiet and nearby. Plus you haven’t seen where I live, and I’d like to show you.” He paused, looking deep into her eyes. “Since it’s been renovated from an old wreck to a showplace, I think you might find it interesting.”
He was right about that, Kristy thought. She was curious to see how—and where—he lived, when he wasn’t out chasing business deals with Skip Wakefield. And they might as well get this set-to over with. Connor needed to understand how different they were. And decide if maybe they weren’t too different. “Fine.”
A parking attendant drove up with Connor’s car. Kristy got in, wondering all the while how it was possible for an evening that had started out so wonderfully to be abruptly disintegrating so very badly. Connor still wanted her—and she still wanted him. That was apparent in the way she tingled every time he touched her.
But passion wasn’t enough to sustain an intimate relationship. Nor was simple friendship. It took trust and shared goals and endless support of each other. It took all the things Kristy wanted, but had never had.
CONNOR’S CHALMERS STREET loft was located in a converted warehouse on a quiet street in the heart of Charleston. The exterior of the three-story, rectangular brick building had an elegant vintage style that carried over into the entryway. “There are three lofts in the building,” Connor told Kristy as he took her hand and they stepped into the freight elevator. “Mine is on the third floor.”
“How big is it?” she asked, focusing on everything but her growing feelings for him as he let them into his apartment.
“Twenty-two hundred square feet.”
Looking handsome and at ease, Connor switched on lights while Kristy oriented herself to her surroundings. The space had distressed brick walls and concrete floors, and had only one walled-off area, the bathroom. Everything else—the bedroom, living room, kitchen and dining room—were completely open. There were no blinds on the plentiful multipane windows. The furniture was sleek and modern, in contrast to the classic design of the building. Expensive art decorated the walls. Beautiful rugs added interest to the concrete floor and delineated the separate living areas of the open space.
Kristy walked over to a window and looked out on the city, noting that Connor had a gorgeous view of the Cooper River, as well. “You have the entire floor?”
Connor nodded as he came to stand beside her. He loosened the first two buttons of his shirt, untying the tie, letting the ends lie flat on either side of his collar, then strolled over to the bar and opened a bottle of wine. He poured them both a glass of wine while Kristy slipped off her shoes and made herself comfortable, then he came back to sit beside her on the sofa. His expression concerned, he probed her eyes and cut straight to the chase. “What did Skip say that got you so upset?”
Kristy’s nerves tightened as she thought back to the conversation she’d had with Connor’s business partner. “In a nutshell, he thinks I am bad news, that I’ve lured you off whatever preordained path you were on, into a heap of trouble. That I’ve ruined your rep as one of Charleston’s social elite in the bargain by enticing you to clean commodes with me. And he thinks Harry and Winnifred have fallen under my social-cachet-busting spell, too.”
Connor looked her in the eye, his expression suddenly unbearably tender. “Nonsense. Harry and Winnifred might not have reconciled yet, but they are getting along much better since they’re both out at the resort.”
Kristy sipped her wine, drawing a galvanizing breath as shimmers of awareness swept through her. “Skip thinks that by giving them both jobs I’ve ruined their reputations.” She needed to know. Did Connor feel the same way?
He frowned, shoving a hand through the neat layers of his dark blond hair. “First off, it would be impossible to ruin Harry’s rep, no matter what you said or did. He’s the best darn butler around. And I’m sure he will be an equally successful and sought-after hotel concierge and assistant resort manager or whatever else he decides to do. As for Winnifred, she’s a Deveraux, and has always been a woman who knows her own mind and lives by her own rules.”
Which meant, Kristy supposed, that when all was said and done, none of this would detract from the social doyenne in any way.
But that didn’t mean Connor’s family would approve of what he was up to at her behest, out at Paradise Resort, Kristy thought uncomfortably. And she did not want to be the cause of a rift between Connor and his family, any more than she wanted to be responsible for any downslide in his own reputation, business or otherwise. “What about you?” She tucked her legs beneath her and curled up in the corner of the sofa. “You’d never cleaned a toilet in your life until you met me.”
He shifted so they were facing each other, his rock-hard thigh bumping against her bent knee. “So?”
Kristy trembled at the contact. “So now I’ve even got you making up beds!”
He flashed her a wolfish grin. “That’s a skill that could come in handy now and again, don’t you think?”
Kristy stood and began to pace, aware that complications like this were something she had been striving darn hard to keep out of her already way-too-busy life, and that she had lost her starry-eyed naivete a long time ago. “According to Skip, I’m well on my way to ruining your image in the business community.”
“If that’s all it takes to ruin it,” Connor drawled, “my image can’t have been worth much to begin with.”
She watched as he stood and strolled toward her, her gut telling her that he was not going to rest until he had proved his point. “This isn’t a joke,” she said miserably.
He lifted a censuring brow, the heat in his eyes telegraphing his intention to make her his, no matter what anyone else said or
thought. “Believe me, I didn’t take your walking out on me this evening as anywhere near amusing.”
Kristy paused next to a particularly fetching painting that she was sure had cost an arm and a leg, and said, “Your partner thinks I must be blackmailing or somehow bewitching you.”
Connor gave her a confident grin that turned her whole world upside down. His eyes darkened ardently. “Skip always was a little over the top.”
“He thinks that if you had been thinking straight you never would’ve done what you’ve done,” Kristy continued, aware that her heart was pounding in her throat and that he was suddenly very close to her. So close she could inhale the intoxicating fragrance of his skin and cologne.
“The only thing I want to do,” he told her fervently, wrapping one strong arm around her and cuddling her close, “is this.” He threaded his other hand through the hair at the nape of her neck and, angling her head, pressed a kiss to the top of it. Another on her cheek. The side of her neck.
“Connor…” Kristy warned, even as her face rested against the warmth of his close-shaven jaw. Had it ever felt so good to simply be held? she wondered, as she snuggled—albeit somewhat reluctantly—against his rock-solid body. Had she ever felt so safe, so protected, so revered, so absolutely and tenderly cared for? Not to mention the fact that he was generating tremors of heat and desire just holding her this way, and he hadn’t even touched his lips to hers yet!
Connor lifted the veil of her hair and kissed his way down the exposed line of her throat to the U of her collarbone. “Forget what everyone else says or thinks, Kristy,” he whispered in her ear. “And concentrate on what you feel….”
What Kristy felt was wanted and adored as he lowered his head and, taking advantage of the languid shivers of desire spreading through her, kissed her full on the mouth, until her toes curled and she surged toward him and a hot flush swept through her entire body.
“See?” he teased, dancing her backward, toward the bed at the other end of the loft. “You’re feeling better already.”
“Darn you,” she murmured playfully, when he stopped at the foot of his bed and kissed her again, even more thoroughly this time.
“Want me to stop?” he whispered, deepening the kiss and cupping her breast through the fragile silk of her evening dress.
Kristy moaned when his fingertips closed over her nipple, caressing it to an aching point. “No,” she said, as everything around her went soft and fuzzy except the hot, hard pressure of his mouth. It had been so long since she had let herself want. Too long. She was tired of being on her own, tired of feeling so alone and unprotected, of having all the responsibilities and none of the pleasures of an adult life. And though she knew all the practical reasons why they shouldn’t consummate this relationship, she still had the urge to surrender completely to his sensuous touch and slow, tender kiss, damn the consequences. And judging by the ardent gleam she saw in his eyes, he felt exactly the same way. As if this was a risk, but one well worth taking.
“Good.” He grinned, before kissing her again deeply, evocatively, with the reverence she deserved. “Because I don’t, either.”
Stepping behind her, he eased down the zipper of her dress and helped her step out of the fragile silk-chiffon confection. “Damn, but you are one gorgeous lady,” he said, as he surveyed her in the lacy champagne-colored bustier and matching French-cut panties. He traced a finger along the top of one thigh-high stocking. “I had no idea what you had under that gown.”
“I’m guessing you like it.” Their eyes met and the air between them reverberated with excitement and escalating desire.
“Oh, yeah,” he said hoarsely, putting his hands on her waist and drawing her intimately close once again. “I like it,” he growled, lowering his head and reclaiming her lips. “You better believe I like it.”
The kiss took on a life of its own. And once they were kissing again, there was no stopping. He stroked her tongue with his, he teased, he caressed, until she surged against him, threading her hands through his hair. Kristy might tell herself she didn’t need to feel like a woman, but she did. She might tell herself that she didn’t need to be taken, and made his woman, but she did. To have Connor suddenly appear in her life, become a part of it, was an unexpected, incredible gift. One she intended to enjoy to the fullest. Spirits rising, she rose up on tiptoe, giving back as good as she was getting, letting him know this was just the beginning, that the fire between them would only grow greater with time.
And he responded in kind. Kissing her even more deeply as he nimbly worked his way down the seemingly endless hooks and eyes holding her bustier closed. Cool air whispered over her back when the edges parted and the undergarment fell away.
Connor paused to look at her, his eyes taking in the creamy curves of her breasts, the pink, pouting nipples and the shadowy valley inbetween. “Gorgeous,” he whispered, his eyes warming her skin before returning to lock with hers. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
He made her feel gorgeous, Kristy realized, and her heart took on a slow, heavy beat as he guided her down to sit on the edge of the bed. He knelt in front of her, like a knight before a queen. Still looking up at her adoringly, he cupped the weight of her breasts in his hands and with infinite slowness brushed his fingertips across the tips once, and then again, and again. Nothing had ever felt so wonderfully sensual, and Kristy moaned as her nipples budded tightly and an urgency swept through her middle, before pooling low.
Not content with just touching her, Connor laid her back gently on the bed. Taking both her wrists in one hand, he lifted them above her head and anchored them there. He smiled at the delicious way she trembled, looking as if he, too, had always known they would end up this way. Then his head lowered, and he circled the pale pink aureole with his tongue. Brushed it with his lips. Then suckled her tenderly again, until she felt deliciously aroused, delectably captive. “And sweet.” Connor continued his litany of compliments as he turned his attention to her other breast. “Soft. Silky.”
“Connor…” Kristy warned, able to see he wanted this and was quite prepared for it to take all night. Darn his mischievous soul.
He smiled at the way she trembled. Letting go of her wrists, he sat up, took off his shirt, tie, shoes, socks. By the time he got to his trousers, her mouth was dry.
He was beautiful, too. His shoulders were broad, his chest nicely sculpted, with glowing, golden skin, well-defined pecs and washboard abs. A smattering of dark blond hair, a shade darker than that on his head, formed a line across his pecs and then arrowed sexily downward, to his waist. “You want to see more of me, too.”
Knowing the only way she would get through this with her heart intact was to make light of it, Kristy grinned. “A lot more.”
The pants came off.
“Black silk,” Kristy murmured, appreciating the fit and quality of his boxers.
“That’s all you get to see for now,” Connor said, as he stretched out on the bed beside her.
“I guess that’s fair,” Kristy answered, trying—but failing—to keep her eyes from the imprint of his considerable arousal through the silk.
“Now where were we?” Connor teased. Thumbs slipping beneath the elastic of her French-cut panties, he kissed her nest of dark curls through the wispy champagne lace. Legs parting, she arched up off the bed restlessly. She was already wet, so wet…and they’d barely started yet.
Connor slid a hand between her legs, running his palm along her inner thigh down to her knees and back again. “You’re right,” he said, his smoky-gray eyes darkening, “this should come off, too.” He dispensed with her panties, then moved between her knees. Grasping her hips, he slid her toward the edge of the bed. And then, kneeling once again, he found her with his lips, with his hands. Parting her delicate folds, stroking, making her blossom, tremble, sending her to the brink. And then his mouth was on her in the most intimate of kisses, and he sent her floating free into a bliss unlike anything she had ever experienced.
KRISTY C
AME BACK to earth slowly, embarrassed to have let herself go, to have revealed the depth of her passion for him so completely, so soon. She opened her eyes, looked over at him. He was lounging beside her, a mixture of tenderness and sheer male appreciation on his face. “You’re an amazingly sensual woman,” he murmured hoarsely.
And suddenly, to Kristy, indulging her needs and living in the moment did not seem like such a dangerous thing, at least not tonight. “A woman who is only getting started,” she murmured back, determined to give as good as she had gotten. She sent him a mischievous look that spoke volumes and tucked a hand in the waistband of his boxers. “These have to come off,” she said.
Eyes sparkling playfully, Connor spread his hands wide before lying back and folding them behind his head. “If they must,” he said.
Kneeling astride him, Kristy tugged off his boxers, brought them down over his knees and off. “For the record, you’re amazing, too,” she said. He wasn’t just aroused, he was abundantly well-equipped. Suddenly, she wasn’t quite sure she could pull this off, but she was willing to give it a try.
He looked at her, clearly ready, willing and able for anything she could dream up. “Ah. Before you have your way with me…” he drawled.
Kristy’s heart slammed against her chest. “Yes?”
“Come here and kiss me,” he ordered in a low, throaty tone.
Her heart racing, Kristy moved up onto the bed and sprawled carefully overtop of him. Aware that he was still waiting, she sank down on him, stretching out so they were length to length. He groaned. “Keep going, sweetheart.”
Shifting her weight until they fit together as snugly as a catch and a lock, she lowered her lips to his. She used her tongue on him, delved deep into the silky cavern of his mouth. Her kisses were provocative, gentle, teasing and hot. She caressed his chest, let her fingers play down to his waist, beyond. She slid downward, almost to her quarry, aware of the need within her that seemed to grow even as it was met. Desire swept through her in powerful waves until she felt liquid and weightless. He was hard as a rock, throbbing, hot. And suddenly she wasn’t the only one shuddering with pent-up need. The next thing she knew, she was on her back and underneath him once again. She looked up at him breathlessly, searching his eyes. “But I haven’t—”
Taking Over the Tycoon Page 15