Bound For Me Read online

  He’d been here that night?

  Savannah thought back. She’d been so amped with adrenalin, so sick of that guy’s leering and obnoxious behavior, she’d barely noticed anyone else when she’d fought fire with fire.

  But now she remembered. This guy had stood just to the side, staring until the other man had left the premises. He’d offered, but she’d told him she didn’t need his help.

  She hadn’t. She’d played it close to the wire though. Putting her hand on Ultimate’s pants and telling him he ought to be worried that smoking was going to stunt his growth?

  Total bitch.

  Somehow, stupidly, she felt awkward that he’d seen her at her most vicious. “So you know the names for me then.”

  He lifted his eyebrows.

  “Bitch, ball breaker, man eater. Black widow...” She started, the list went on.

  She might’ve only been working at St Clair’s a couple weeks but she had the usual rep already: awesome mixing skills–and awful attitude. Which wasn’t strictly accurate. She actually loved putting on a show and she was almost always polite... but she had to be frosty with it. It was the best way to keep people at a distance.

  “I wouldn’t call you any of those things,” blue-eyes answered softly.

  “No?”

  “I’d call you magnificent.” He reached across and picked up another fragment of glass.

  “Please don’t do that,” she said, rattled.

  “Call you magnificent or help with the mess?”

  “I can manage.”

  “I wasn’t implying that you couldn’t.” He dropped the shard into his hand. “I’m just helping.”

  “I don’t need you to.”

  “Or want me to.”

  She bit the inside of her lip, hating that he made her feel rude.

  “But I want to,” he said.

  “You always do whatever you want?”

  “You always take the offensive?” He looked at her.

  Yep, just like that, her defenses rose.

  He chuckled.

  It was an appallingly seductive sound. Only suddenly it ended with a pained hiss.

  She glanced down and saw the thin line of red appearing down the length of his finger.

  “I told you to leave it, now you’ve hurt yourself,” she scolded. She slid the dustpan towards him and he tipped the pile of glass into it.

  “It’s just a scratch,” he said.

  “You’re bleeding.” She stood and hurried behind the bar.

  “Relax, I’m not gonna sue.”

  “I’ll get a Band-aid.” She growled and grabbed one together with some cotton wool and a tube of antiseptic from the small First Aid kit under the bar. But when she glanced over, she saw he was still hunched low, single-handedly putting the pieces of glass in the pan, his cut hand curled and held to his chest.

  “Will you stop that?” She sighed as he kept putting the shards into the pan. “Please.”

  He paused, looking up at her, an imp of amusement in his eyes. “Ask me like that and I’ll do anything.”

  It should have been sleazy—the kind of line Ultimate would deliver. Except it wasn’t. He’d meant it as a joke. To make her smile.

  And amazingly, she did. “Then please come and let me fix up your finger.”

  He took the bar stool he’d had earlier and hooked his feet on the rungs. Even sitting, the guy was tall. And now was not the time to get all self-conscious and super-aware and start thinking about how long it was since she’d been this close to a man.

  She sat on the stool beside his and tried not to notice how long his legs were, how near they were to hers.

  “Hold still while I look for glass,” she muttered apologetically. “It might hurt.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Do not respond to the sensual undercurrent in his low murmur.

  She took his hand in hers and took her time to sponge it with a small wad of cotton wool and carefully check there was no glass left in the cut.

  Do not speculate on the size of his hand... the potential strength.

  Cursing under her breath at her descent into brainlessness, she glanced up. His face was so near she could feel the warmth of his breath and this close his eyes were spellbinding.

  “You’re lucky, it looks clear,” she said briskly, trying to pull her head together.

  “Thanks.” He looked boyishly contrite, like he’d been told off by his favorite teacher and was trying to suppress his smile.

  Savannah looked back down to the cut, blood welled in it again. “I’ll put a Band-aid on it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Focus. Be professional. Keep your distance.

  “Not too tight?” She checked as she wound the plaster round his finger.

  “No, it feels good.”

  Kiss it better.

  Where the hell had that idea come from?

  She looked up, her gaze instantly locked with his.

  He didn’t say it. Didn’t say anything. Nor did she. But breathing seemed to be hard, like the air was suddenly heavy with humidity.

  Kiss it better.

  Kiss. Him.

  Savannah never kissed customers. Never kissed anyone. But the urge now?

  “You should get it checked by a professional,” she muttered, then coughed to clear the frog from her throat.

  “Don’t dramatize. It’s not that deep.” He laughed.

  At that sound, the tightness in her chest loosened. She couldn’t help smiling as she hopped off the stool to pack away the First Aid gear and wash her hands.

  “You mind if I stay a little?” he asked. “I’m feeling dizzy. Must be the loss of blood.”

  He so wasn’t, but this playful tease was such a contrast to the moody man who’d first ordered that icy beer and she couldn’t resist her curiosity. She hesitated, then reluctantly smiled again. “You’d like another beer?”

  He held her gaze. “Isn’t it past closing?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She turned to pull one from the fridge, when she turned back with it he’d put a bill on the bar.

  She frowned. “I’ve closed the cash register.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

  “I won’t owe you either.” She pulled out her own wallet and gave him the change from her pathetic coin collection. “I’ll square it with the register tomorrow.”

  As she flipped the lid on his bottle, she saw something flare in his eyes. He took a long swig as soon as she handed it to him.

  “You’ve been working on the slopes?” she asked.

  His gaze shot to her, surprised. His eyes narrowed. “Today, yeah.”

  “You like it up there?” Wasn’t he the mountain king? A slope-style champ or something? She wasn’t really sure of the terminology, before coming here, snow hadn’t really been her thing.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” His lips twisted.

  Not everyone, no.

  “It doesn’t bother you?” he suddenly asked. “The way they talk?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t let it.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “It’s not your problem.” She fell silent at the look in his eyes. Her stupid pulse sped up.

  “Will you tell me your name?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Maybe not.” His smile was wry. “You don’t want to know mine?”

  “No. I don’t.” She definitely didn’t. She didn’t want to know anything more about him… right?

  “Have a drink with me.”

  “Not while I’m working.” Keep it together, Savannah. Keep as cool as ever.

  “Bar’s closed now,” he pointed out. “Anyway, it doesn’t have to be alcoholic. Isn’t it your duty to keep the customer happy?”

  “As the bar’s now closed, it’s no longer my duty,” she countered, unable to hold back a small smile.

  “Choice then. Will you choose to stay and talk to a lonely customer?”

 
; “Lonely or alone?” she asked lightly. “There’s a difference. You seemed happy to be alone and uninterrupted not so long ago.”

  His lips twisted. “My job sometimes makes me unpopular.”

  Why, did he have to ban people from using the chairlift? And that took time to get over at the end of each day? The ironic thing was she understood—when you worked serving people all day, at the end of it all you wanted was some alone time.

  “They like watching you,” he laughed softly. “How long have you been working here?”

  “Almost three weeks.”

  “And you’ve made such an impression on the customers already.” He waggled his eyebrows, teasing.

  “Some of them.” Heat simmered in her belly. She’d been left utterly cold by those guys. By all guys these last few months. But here she was on total defrost. All because of an unexpected sense of humor and blue, blue eyes.

  “You do the lifts?” Her voice rusted.

  “Only for today.”

  Her pulse flitted faster. Was he leaving?

  That heat climbed the rung to sizzling. Possibilities raced through her mind. The kind of possibilities she’d never entertained before. “You’re finishing up?”

  “Other things I have to do.” He nodded.

  Other places to go. He had that restless look in his eyes. And that was a good thing, right? Because Savannah didn’t want any distractions. Didn’t want anything else to think about—but for this one moment?

  “I don’t agree with them, by the way,” he said.

  Some how he was closer. Quieter. Somehow he knew.

  She raised her eyebrows, she’d keep cool to the end.

  “About what you need,” he clarified.

  She swallowed.

  “You don’t need it hard up the ass, or in your mouth or where ever the hell else they want to stick their tiny dicks.”

  She stifled a laugh. “No.”

  “I’m not saying there’s nothing you need, though…” He cocked his head, looking into her eyes.

  “What do you think I need?” She braced herself for the obvious.

  His lips softened into that unexpectedly warm smile. There was heat in his eyes, yes, but humor in his mouth. And easiness. And it was so unexpected. “Maybe some fun,” he idly mused. “Maybe some release. Maybe some…” he paused, his gaze sharpening. “Pleasure.”

  That heat rippled out from her belly, cascading through her body, crawling over her skin. Good lord, she was blushing.

  “Yeah.” His smile broadened, warmed. “Pleasure. Whatever is your pleasure. Plenty of it.”

  She melted. Speechless.

  Just from that.

  What was wrong with her? Usually she’d have slammed him down with a sharp-edged comment and her best bitch face. For so long she’d been too uptight to let go. Too bound by her family’s scandals. Too scared of being swept away—like her mom with her insane affair that had screwed the lives of too many people.

  Like her father who’d gambled literally everything away.

  It was so long since she’d allowed herself to enjoy any kind of intimacy.

  And she wasn’t going to now either. She was here only for payback. To hunt out the Hughes men and let them know just how much they’d hurt her family.

  He was watching her closely, shaking his head a little. “What you need,” he lectured, gently persuasive. “Is satisfaction. And then you can enjoy that sweet dreamless sleep.”

  Dreamless. Yes. Please.

  She hadn’t had a decent, dreamless sleep in so long. Hadn’t come in over a year. Not even on her own. But how did he know she suffered that restlessness at night?

  “You know what else I don’t agree with?” he said.

  She shook her head, unable to speak, still trying to process—and control—her reaction to him.

  He lifted his hand and very lightly traced the tip of his bound forefinger along her cheekbone. “You’re not a bitch.”

  He was so wrong.

  He smiled. “And I sure as hell don’t believe you’re frigid.”

  Chapter Two

  Savannah Nash didn’t know who he was and Connor Hughes knew he’d better tell her. Except she didn’t want to know and oddly he didn’t want to do anything she didn’t want him to. Odd—because Connor generally did whatever he wanted.

  Okay, so he didn’t want to tell her. Not yet.

  How he’d so quickly gotten over the tiredness and anger that had been hounding him all day, he didn’t know.

  “I need to finished clearing that up.” She strode away from him and bent to finish sweeping the glass fragments into the dustpan.

  Okay, he did know. In her long, sleek black skirt and her starched white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to expose slender wrists, Savannah Nash looked like a strict school ma'am from last century. Sexiest school ma'am ever. He’d checked her hands, wrists, neck, and knew she wore no jewellery.

  No ring, no chain. No claim.

  She was single, of that he was certain. But whether she was available was the unanswered question.

  He shifted on the bar stool, trying to ease the way his cock was straining tightly against his clothing as the beautiful bartender straightened.

  Stand. Touch. Take.

  His body screamed at him. He tried to fight back with his brain. He shouldn’t be doing this. He ought to be home and checking the day’s notes from his stand-in manager. There were a zillion things he ought to be doing instead of sitting like a mesmerized fool just watching a woman.

  But man, what a woman.

  Well, if he was going to stay, then he should talk to her. Find out her agenda. But other things were distracting him from that purpose. Her brown eyes for one. Velvety, deep, secretive. And her long dark hair. He’d have thought it’d be easier for her to have it tied back somehow, out of the way while she worked. Instead it hung in a glossy curtain down her back, immaculate and smooth. In her appearance, and in her work, she was all cool, perfect precision.

  But something simmered within her.

  He knew why those jerks couldn’t resist trying to bait her. She was beautiful. And cold.

  She was also tired. And perhaps, not that cold at all. When he’d watched her take down that tall asshole a few nights ago, Connor had stood, stepping in close, in case she’d needed help.

  She hadn’t.

  She hadn’t remembered he’d been there until he’d just told her. Until then there’d been nothing in her eyes but cool defiance. A denial of any need.

  But there was need.

  Very, very slowly he sipped his beer. He needed it now more than when he’d first walked in riled from the day and keen to question her motives. He knew she was Savannah Nash and that she came from Belle, Louisiana and that her father had attended several of Rex’s talks. Only he’d been spectacularly dissatisfied once he’d put Rex’s throw-away ideas into action. And he’d wanted to complain.

  But Connor wasn’t letting anyone cloud Summerhill’s reputation.

  Just like taking to the slopes, playing the stock market was always a risk. People had to research, make their own calculations, take responsibility for their own actions.

  Which wasn’t to say Connor didn’t like to offer a helping hand if someone was struggling.

  Because he was a man of action, not jumping in sooner tonight to tell those assholes where they could stick it had taken more self-control than he’d thought he had. But he knew if he was to have any chance with Savannah, he’d have to stand down and let her get on with it. Getting all he-man hero in her face would only backfire, he’d learned that from the other night. This was a woman who wanted to feel in charge. So he’d waited ’til she’d stepped out before getting rid of them.

  By just looking at her, the heat in his blood had turned from anger to attraction. Raw, unstoppable attraction of a force that stole his breath. It didn’t matter that he questioned her reasons for being here. That he didn’t trust her. Because something had changed within her. That cold, cold veil of
professionalism had lifted and he’d seen warmth. Warmth when she’d looked at him.

  All his pre-planned questions vanished. All that mattered was holding that look within her. Keeping her like that, hotter than a naked flame. And damn if he just wasn’t an itty, bitty moth.

  The way she’d gently tended to his cut, despite that veneer of impatience? For a second he’d thought she was going to kiss him. He’d held his breath, held utterly still, aware that something as small as a smile might make her pull away. But she’d pulled away anyway. A stunned expression crossing her face, like she couldn’t believe the impulse within herself.

  He couldn’t believe it either.

  There was no way he was leaving her yet.

  She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. A frown creased her perfectly made-up face. He braced himself in delight—she was back to the cold-as-snow bartender?

  “What?” he asked, unable to stop his smile now. He did like the daggers in her eyes. Her death-look was way better than his.

  “I don’t appreciate you looking at me like I’m a piece of meat,” she said sharply. But color mounted in her cheeks.

  How could such acidity tumble from such soft, full lips? They looked so kissable. Yeah, she was so freaking edible.

  Sugarlips.

  He wanted to bite. Hard. She was trying to put him off, all it did was make him want her more. He hadn’t tasted, hadn’t felt his sex drive soar like this in a long time. He never allowed distraction of any sort. Seeing the mess his father Rex had made with his countless affairs… and then his brother Logan, with his sexual performance plastered all over the internet… no thanks. He put one hundred percent of himself into work. This mountain, the home he would never leave, was all that mattered. He’d had to save Summerhill. He’d always save Summerhill. The mountain came first, he was bound to it by his own blood.

  And finally he had everything the way he wanted. The company was his. They’d even had the official party to celebrate it before his parents went away.

  It was exactly as he’d masterminded it. He’d been working for this moment for years.

  But damn if it wasn’t enough already. He’d had to spend the last couple of days out in the snow rather than in his office, trying to let the wind clear his head. Trying to snatch back the peace that should be his.