Bound for Me (Be for Me #4)(17)

But then her mind started trailing down a path she really didn’t want it to. Memories stirred sensations. Heat, closeness. Darkness.

Her vision blurred. She blinked, trying to refocus. Breathed in. Why did her lungs feel corseted? Maybe she needed something to eat? Had she even had dinner tonight? She couldn’t remember. She picked up her water bottle and took another sip.

“Excuse me? Can I get served please?” Another regular waved at her.

“Of course you can darling,” she smiled widely at him. “Sorry.”

The younger guy blinked and then flashed a huge smile back at her. “Okay. Great. I need champagne.”

“Of course you do,” Savannah purred. “A jeroboam tonight? Or just a magnum?”

His jaw dropped open. “A jeroboam sounds good, if you’ll have some with me?”

She thought about it while she found the right bottle in the fridge out back. Except thinking seemed to take a lot of time. How long was it since she’d had champagne?

Too long.

“Save me a glass,” she murmured as she popped the giant bottle in front of her super-alert customer.

“Sure thing. I’m right here. Saving everything for you.”

“Nice.” Savannah licked her lips, vaguely noticing the guy’s eyes widen. But damn she felt thirsty. For water.

Someone came in through the door. Damn—was she still looking? But wait. This guy had ultra short hair. Ultra blue eyes.

OMG.

Her body flushed super hot. And she froze. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Hadn’t he finished his work up on the mountain? Why hadn’t he left town? Damn, but her body didn’t care. Nope, her body flooded with pleasure like she’d been starving for centuries. He wasn’t in the fluoro gear tonight, but jeans and a thin sweater. She saw more of his muscles. He was tall but not obscenely bulky. Whipcord strong. She knew there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his utterly honed torso.

She wanted to lick that torso. Again.

Was it her or had there been a second of stillness, of silence in the bar when he’d walked in? Impossible, the background dance beat was till blaring. It was that commanding presence that everyone in the restaurant seemed to be aware of. She frowned as she watched a few people go over and talk to him. A couple of the ultra-rich guys, a few more of the especially glam women. Their laughter rang too loud. Obsequious. King of the Mountain.

He wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t laughing. He was looking at her. And there was that anger banked in his eyes again. She liked it. She knew what it really was.

Lust.

Savannah pressed her hands down flat on the wood, trying to steady herself. Her legs wobbled, her brain had turned into cotton wool. She wanted to be bare assed and riding his cock again this second. To have gone from celibate to insatiable in less than twenty-four hours?

And damn, if he didn’t owe her. She’d not had the amazing night’s sleep he’d promised. Instead she’d lain awake thinking about what they’d done. What else they should have done. And he was going to pay for that. Long and slow this time. And hard.

Her jaw slackened as she drank in the sight of him. Her vision tunnelled—she could only see him. And even then, he was blurry. Why was that?

“Hey doll, what does a guy have to do to get serviced ‘round here?”

She blinked and turned her head. Funny how time seemed to have slowed.

Ultimate Jerk-off was smiling at her. Weird. He didn’t usually smile at her. And why did Double Jerk have his phone up like he was taking a photo?

“I want a Manhattan.”

“You want a cocktail?” Confused, she simply stared at him. Since when did Ultimate Jerk-off and his cronies want cocktails?

“Yeah. A Manhattan. Or is that too complicated for you?”

She glanced behind him at the peacock pretty dresses. Oh of course. “It’s fine.” She’d been making them since before she was legal. Working in her father’s little hotel bar.

She turned, surveying the gleaming bottles behind her. Back to the show. But it was like her hand was disconnected from her body. She couldn’t get her fingers to move fast enough. She watched, unable to move, as in slo-mo the bottle fell to the floor at her feet. And smashed.

She’d dropped the damn bottle. She never dropped the bottle. She always caught it.

And then, she giggled. And then she giggled some more. Because Savannah never giggled. Not like that.

“Savannah?”

She turned. It was him. Hot car sex guy. And he knew her name? Weird. Everything was weird. “That’s not my name.”

His blue eyes weren’t looking angry anymore. God they were gorgeous. But why was he walking behind the bar?

“Isn’t it sweetheart?”

His voice came from so far away, yet if she wasn’t mistaken, he was getting closer.

She shook her head. Only suddenly stopped because it was like her brain had shrunk to the size of a ping pong ball and was rattling round in her skull. It hurt. “I’m not a sweetheart…”

“No? What are you then?” His arms were around her now and she sighed and fell against him.

That was better. But her head still felt weird, and there was a relentless dizzying noise.

“I’m Sugar.”



When he’d first walked in Connor had thought everything was normal. If it hadn’t been for that glitter in her eyes, he’d never have thought she’d remembered that she’d been out in his car f*cking the life out of him less than twenty-four hours before. And she was so gloriously immaculate again. But he knew that perfect presentation was merely a mask.