Bound For Me (18 page)

“No. I’m tired. It’s time for you to leave.” She twisted her arm, freeing herself from his loose hold.
 

He watched as she stood and walked away from him, pulling her skirt back down.
 

She’d not even been naked.

He hauled himself to his feet and carefully started to dress. Satisfied—yes, in part. But he was wholly stunned. Having her on her knees totally hadn’t been how he’d imagined this night would go. He’d thought she’d take, instead, she’d sought to satisfy him first.

It was unexpectedly sweet. And so damn sexy.

“You’re satisfied?” he asked, cupping her jaw as she stood by the door, so pointedly waiting for him to leave.

But he wasn’t quite ready to.

She nodded. “And tired. Goodbye.”

She shut the conversation down. No post-coital cuddles wanted, huh? Nor any sleepy, intimate conversation. But like she didn’t want more sex?

He’d heard her moan as he’d licked inside her. He’d tasted her wet heat. And he’d watched the way her fingers had curled into the cushions.

She’d been holding herself back.
 

He’d rather have born her scratches on his back. He’d rather she pulled him into her with the ferocity she’d shown the other night. He’d wanted to feel her raw, abandoned passion again.

And he’d wanted to be inside her more than he’d ever wanted anything. Still did.

He was more than happy to stand for her. To be the stud and provide the physical release she needed. Because he needed it too. He’d denied himself too long. But now he wanted to take the pleasure everyone else did and he needed a woman who was his match. As strong. As determined. This battle had the edge he needed. T
hat she wouldn’t let him inside her showed just how strong she was. Because she’d wanted him, badly. Breathlessly.
 

Yet she was resisting it.

And
he wasn’t about to take what she wasn’t willing or ready to give.

Something had changed. It wasn’t that she knew who he was. It was something else. He didn’t know what. But he’d find out.

“You want me to send a car for you in the morning?” he asked.
 

She sent him one of her best iced-up looks.

“I’ll fetch you myself but we might get… distracted… again before getting there,” he winked.

“I can make my own way.”

Of course she could.
 

“Great,” he smiled at her, knowing it would antagonise her. “You’re going to love it.”

Connor barely slept. His cock was so hard it hurt more than his all-but smashed ribs. He spent the night thinking about her, trying to figure out her agenda. Trying not to let her few barbs pierce him. She’d mocked his ‘honor’, mocked his work ethic. Mocked pretty much everything about him. Until she’d mastered his body. Then she’d moaned. Then she’d tasted every inch of him in a frenzy, like he was delicious, forbidden fruit that she had to devour before it was taken from her.
 

As light pieced the sky, he reached out for his phone and touched the screen.

“Logan.”

“Connor.” His brother groaned. “Jeez, we’re gonna need to change the time you call, buddy.”

“Too early for you?” Connor frowned. He always called Logan early in the morning.

For all his playboy antics, Logan knew the markets. He was a far better source of investment advice than their father.
 

“Am I boring?” Connor couldn’t keep the random question back.

“Pardon?” Logan growled.

“Boring. Am I boring?” Connor leaned back and lifted his foot on the chair opposite. “You’re all wild man, Hunter’s all secretive. Xander’s all good guy, Rocco’s suave. I’m the worker bee. Boring.”

“Uh… I’d have said you were single minded.”

“But that can be boring.”
 

“What, you want to suddenly go adrenalin? Or start singing and dancing? Start screwing around? Being in all the papers? You want to come down from the mountain?” Logan laughed. “You love the mountain too much.”

Was that his problem? She’d been scathing about his ‘honor’ and his sense of duty to the mountain. But she had no idea what it meant to him. “And is that boring of me?”

“No. That’s just who you— Oh god. Temptress.”
 

Connor heard Logan’s sharply sucked in breath and figured his brother wasn’t talking to him. Oh. So
that’s
what Logan had meant about changing the time he called. “What’s she done?”

“She’s ah... never mind.”

Connor heard a feminine giggle in the background.

“
Minnnnx
.” Logan choked.

Min was Logan’s fiancée.
 

“You want to hang up and go after her?”

“Can’t. She’s cuffed my ankles.”

Connor closed his eyes, that wasn’t an image he really wanted in his head. “Never thought you’d let yourself get tied down.”

“Love it. Love her.” Logan suddenly laughed. “She’s wicked. And she’s—oh
fuck
—”

“I’m happy for you. I’ll call back later.”

There was a muffled groan. “Might be a good idea…”

Connor ended the call and tossed his phone down, reluctantly laughing to himself.

His playboy brother had been such a risk-taker. Now Logan was more playful than ever but in such a different way. He was
happy
. After all the years of taking stupid risks, trying to win it all—purely to gain the approval of their distant father? All the years of being as wild as possible—because he’d realized that approval was impossible to gain and he didn’t care anymore. Now he cared—about Min. Min who had a playful streak of her own.

He stood and went to the window, looked out at the beautiful view. His whole life he’d felt soothed looking at the mountain. It made him feel free.

He’d show the complex to Savannah. She’d be forced to see that at least one of the things his father claimed was true, Summerhill
was
perfect.

And then he’d distract her some more. Keep her occupied, sated, until she’d forgotten her anger with him and accepted the fact there was no fault here. It was the perfect plan.

Under his watch Summerhill would always be safe.

Chapter Thirteen

She arrived early. Her face was pale. Her beautiful hair was swept up into a sleek high knot. Immediately he wanted to loosen it and mess it up. And bring some color back to her cheeks.

“I’ll show you around the buildings first.” He forced himself to behave. “We can finish with the office. You can pry into my paperwork all you like, if you really want to.”

“Sounds fine.” She sounded so damn prim, like she hadn’t been sucking him off so hard his eyes had practically rolled back into his head less than twelve hours ago.

He forced himself to regulate his breathing and not go cave-man. That wasn’t the way to win her over. He’d take it slow. Small, teasing, touches. Nearness. Make her want it so much she couldn’t control herself any more.

“You’ve seen the town, right? Know we own almost all the stores. The smaller hotel units. But the Lodge is the jewel.”

“And you don’t own St Clair’s.”

“No, that restaurant is privately owned. So are a couple of others.”

She nodded. “But your family designed the town layout?”

“Yes.” A purpose built town, his father and grandfather had gone for a picturesque Swiss alpine village look. Parts of the buildings had been refurbished since their original construction to embrace modern technology and the ever growing demands of guests. “It’s small, secure, beautiful.”

“In your humble opinion.”

“Not opinion. Fact.” He turned and walked, pleased as she fell into step beside him.

She had boots on with her jeans and a thick coat. And he couldn’t stop looking at her. Questions kept popping into his head—he wanted to know everything about her. But he kept up the hotel history patter. Tried to keep cool. “There are actually two lodges. The smaller one, which the family has always occupied, as well as select guests. And then there’s the bigger one. Along the road, there are the chalet options. All are fully serviced, of course.”

“Of course.”

He led her through the family lodge, watched her eyes widen as she took in the ‘Great Hall’ with its massive twin fireplaces, the twin staircases, the art on the walls. He ignored the repeated chimes of his phone and led her through a guest suite, and restrained himself when she reached out and touched the soft furnishings, her appreciation of them patently obvious.

But he’d hardly started. “Want to see the secret tunnel?”

She raised a single eyebrow. “You have a secret tunnel?”

“The guests love it.”

“So it’s a well kept secret then.”

The tunnel took them to the second lodge, the one with the library, the restaurant, the private film theater… and they were just for starters.

“It’s even more exclusive than I imagined,” she murmured as he showed her around.

“And that’s not a good thing?”

“Why would it be?” She threw him a look. “So it’s just a fancy place for spoilt people with too much money to come and hang out together? And feel even more exclusive?”

“It’s not like that, most of our guests truly love the snow. Love skiing.”

She actually shuddered.

“You don’t like the snow?”

“It’s cold and wet. What’s to like?”

Uh huh, she’d really woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
 

He laughed. “Yeah, like you don’t like
ice
. Let me show you the ballroom.” He turned briskly, before she felled him with the death-look. He knew she was just going to loathe the ultimate showpiece.

Sure enough, she stood in the center of the vast room, looking up at the three massive chandeliers, then at the series of wide, fireplaces, the gilt-edged mirrors. Her eyes were wide, but shadows were deepening within them.

“You have many parties?” she asked.

“Too many,” he admitted. “We’re getting lots of wedding requests but I limit those.”

“To keep it exclusive?”

“Of course.”

“Because you couldn’t have the ordinary riff-raff here enjoying themselves, only the spoilt predatory types.”

He laughed. “People like to feel like they’re coming somewhere special. We have guests who make it a once in a lifetime trip and others who come year round. They all are treated the same. I never wanted to be a party-planner. But the amount some families are willing to pay is too much to ignore. And if it keeps numbers down while the bottom line, up, then that’s all good.”

“Numbers down?” She shook her head. “Unreal.”

“Why? No one likes
crowds
.”

“Is that why you like to keep your restaurant so empty?” She turned limpid eyes on him and moved beyond the large circular tables and into the dance area.
 

He laughed. “We don’t do as badly as you’d like to think. Yes, St Clair’s is the most popular, but that doesn’t mean it’s the best.”

“You go on thinking that if it makes you feel better,” she purred.

“You think you’re the best behind the bar?” To his surprise, he saw her shoulders stiffen. Her head lift.

“You know I am,” she said.
 

“And you’re teaching Dante some tricks.”

“A few.”

“Where did you train?” He followed her onto the dancefloor. She’d definitely tensed.
 

“The International Academy of YouTube.”

Ah. Self-taught. Self-motivated.
Smart
. “No formal qualifications?”

She turned and walked off the dance floor. “I did finish school.”

“Congratulations. And then I’m guessing you went straight into full time work.”

“Exactly.”
 

So defensive. Had she wanted to study but couldn’t? Was she saving for it now? He’d bet on it. So why was she here and not using the money her father had gotten from the sale of their hotel to study?

“Presumably you have Ivy League qualifications coming out your ears,” she grumbled.

He smiled, pleased she was curious about him too. “Actually no. I went straight into work too. Studied while working.”

“So you’ve been here your whole life?”

“Pretty much.”

She turned just before the wide doorway, her eyes glittered. “Can’t handle it in the real world?”

“Why would I want to.” He stood under one of the crystal chandeliers and spread his arms wide. “When I have this?”

And to really ram the point home, he took her to the Sanctuary. Showed her the indoor pool that had an infinity effect that he still couldn’t figure how the architects had gotten to work.

“What’s your verdict?” he asked, having given her ten minutes to just look.