Bound for Me (Be for Me #4)(29)

“You’re not getting in his car,” he leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I know what you like to do in cars late at night with a man.”

Only the one man.

She turned her head to whisper back, so the piles of customers waiting couldn’t hear. “I can do what I want, with who ever I want, where ever I want.”

“And what is it you want?” His face loomed close.

Her eyes met his. Stormy. Angry. Hot.

“Another ride?” he asked.

And before she could blink, he snaked an arm around her waist and quickstepped her through to the kitchen out the back.

Before she could think. He kissed her.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. And then she couldn’t think at all.

His arms were around her, pulling her into his delicious heat and strength. So solid, determined. And his mouth?

Wicked.

He stroked her, the slide of his tongue touched her deep, sparking the response so low in her belly, the wisp of air that was all that was needed to re-ignite her out-of-control desire for him.

She moaned. Memory was nothing on reality.

Who knew only a kiss could send such feels-freaking-good juice along her veins? That it could be so addictive? That it could be so not enough?

Urgency rose. She needed more. Closer. Hotter. Wet.

She wanted.

Her hips circled and his hand firmly grabbed her butt, pushing her hard against him to stop her instinctive writhing. But she tried anyway, rocking in the tiniest movements against him, her rhythm matching the sweeping plunges of his tongue. She heard the thrumming drum beat of her pulse in her ears. Fast and excited and pushing her for more.

Faster. More. Faster. More.

Faster.

But suddenly he framed her face with both her hands, holding her still as he broke the kiss—ripping free.

He looked into her eyes. They both knew he’d held her still so he could end the kiss.

That’s when she realized it wasn’t her pulse drumming in her ears, but the beat from the bar music and the bubbling noise of a hundred people out to have a really good time.

Hell, some of them had probably seen then disappear. And she’d lost herself—almost all control.

“What was that?” She jerked away from him, then recovered her self-possession enough to plant her boots wide and glare at him.

“It’s called kissing. Feels good. You should do it more often.” He answered easily, grinning like it was no big deal.

No doubt it wasn’t for him. But for her?

“Not at work.” She snapped. “That was—”

“A deliberate show of intent.” He looked so smug.

“Not intent,” she argued. “That was all about possession. I’m not yours to possess.”

“Not anyone else’s either,” he said darkly. Then stepped back up to her. “Maybe I’m yours.” His lips brushed her ear as he whispered. “Any time. Any place. Your call.”

Temptation.

But it wasn’t true. He was no submissive. This was just his way of trying to get what he wanted. This was pure play.

“Uh, guys,” Luca appeared behind Connor, a laughing look on his face. “Chill. You’re not the entertainment. You’re supposed to be pouring the drinks.”

Connor turned and stared.

“I’ll send Dante over to help you,” Luca swiftly changed tack. “You’re busier in the bar tonight than we are in the restaurant.”

There was only the one tall, dark and handsome reason for that.

“Good idea,” Connor said curtly. “Savannah needs to finish soon.”

“Savannah will finish when the bar closes,” Savannah bared her teeth at him. “What happened to no one knowing?” She hissed at him when Luca had gone.

“I didn’t kiss and tell. I just kissed.”

She stomped back out to the furtherest end of the bar. “Sorry, what can I get you?” She tried to smile at the next customer.

“A bucket of ice. I’m hot watching him watch you,” the woman answered, her eyes trained on something over Savannah’s shoulder. “A girl could come from the way he looks at you.”

Yeah.

“It is hot in here,” Savannah conceded, for once unable to hold back on an honest, personal reply.

“What’s that?” Connor stepped up alongside her. “You like the way I look at her?”

The poor woman turned bright red.

Connor reached into the ice bucket with his bare hand and fished out a single ice cube. “And you’re hot, Savannah?”

Savannah looked at the ice he held up between thumb and forefinger and simply froze. He wouldn’t freaking dare.

But to her outrage—and total arousal—he ran it across her cheek, over the bridge of her nose and across the other cheek. And then the bastard rubbed the rapidly melting little block across her lips.

And what did she do?

Just let him. Just about got off.

He stepped closer. “You ready to come, Sugar?”





Chapter Seven





Connor was the one not far off coming. What the f*ck was he thinking? But there was no walking away from the look in Savannah’s eyes. He heard a muffled squeal from the woman on the other side of the bar.

Damn the audience.