Bound for Me (Be for Me #4)(33)

“Oh yeah. Nothing…” Krista laughed girlishly. “But okay, you don’t want to talk about it. I understand you’re private.”

She was protective.

But for once Savannah regretted her instant defensive shut down. But she’d never had the kind of friend she could open up to about a guy. There’d been no friends. No guys. And this was one person who might be able to give her some info. She tried to relax. “Why’s he called the icicle?”

Krista didn’t take her eyes from the road. “Because he’s so cold.”

Savannah tried not to gasp aloud. Connor was anything but cold.

“Maybe not with you.” Krista suddenly smiled slyly. “But the rest of us see only a workaholic. He never leaves the mountain. Never has fun. All he does is work. All he’s ever done is work.”

“He never leaves the mountain?” Never has fun? Workaholic?

“Well, hardly ever. And never for long.” Krista pulled up outside the unit. “Look, I’ve known Connor all my life and he has never, ever kissed a woman in front of anyone else before.”

“Really?”

“If he has relationships no one knows about them. But I don’t know any woman who’s ever bragged about being with him.”

Yeah, but he’d not been a virgin the other night. At least, she sure as hell hoped he hadn’t been.

Duh. Of course he hadn’t been—he’d been holding back. Heat flushed through her at the sudden, vivid recollection. He probably only slept with women who weren’t staying long in town. High-class tourists to whom he gifted brief flings.

Savannah got out of the car, drawing in a deep breath. “Okay, well, thanks for the lift.”

“No problem.” Krista cut the engine and got out of the car too.

“What are you doing?” Savannah shook her head as Krista followed her to her door, and then walked right on in.

“Just checking your apartment.”

Standing in the center of the room, Savannah crossed her arms over her chest. “Connor told you to, didn’t he?”

“I’m to text him as soon as I’ve left here.” Krista nodded.

And she’d agreed to that? So much for female solidarity. “That’s ridiculous.”

“No it’s not. He’s right to be wary of your security at the moment. You probably shouldn’t be here alone. You want me to stay with you?” Krista pulled out her phone.

“Thanks anyway, but it’s bad enough you had to do that last night.” Savannah sighed. “Mind if I use that?”

Krista shrugged and handed it to her. Savannah swiped the screen, initiating the call.

“Krista? Is Savannah okay?” Connor answered immediately.

“I’m fine. You didn’t need to make her come in and search my apartment.”

“I didn’t make her. She offered. She’s concerned about you. All I asked was for her to let me know you’d made it home safely.”

“Well, she’s checked my apartment for bugs and is leaving now.” Savannah snapped, rattled by his hot’n’cold behavior. Mr Sensitive one second, Mr Suspicious the next. Mr Sexy all the damn time.

“Is it so awful to have people care about you?”

Krista was watching, a huge smile on her face like this was the best entertainment ever.

Savannah closed her eyes. Krista didn’t care about her. Connor most definitely didn’t. “Is it so awful to value independence?”

“There’s such a thing as taking it too far,” he answered. “What’s wrong with having a few friends?”

She turned away from Krista, swallowing back the anger.

Connor Hughes would never be her friend.

To rely, to depend, to need someone, lead to weakness. And weakness ultimately lead to loss. Her father had lost everything. Her mother had given up everything—and for what?

Savannah wasn’t making their mistakes.

People let you down, that’s what they did. So she was sticking with independent.

“Savannah?”

She didn’t answer.

“I know you’re still there,” he said softly, “Text me if you need me.”

“I won’t.”

“Sleep well, Sugarlips.”

She wouldn’t do that either.





Chapter Nine





Connor slept even less than he had the night before. He worked on stupid spreadsheets to stop himself doing a drive by of her apartment, like some stalker. Except he ached to protect her from the real stalker *s. He ached to do a whole lot else as well.

Not. Happening.

Last night’s game—the kiss? The ice? All to prove how easily she melted?

Had totally backfired on him.

But want would never be his master. He wouldn’t be his father, a slave to sexual desire. He wasn’t succumbing to the stereotypical weakness of a wealthy man—the inability to keep his penis in his pants. But despite that intention, just after eight in the morning, a totally respectable time, he sent her another text.

Sleeping Sugar, you awake?

Still no reply.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar double tap, pause, single tap.

“You’re not staying?” He took one look at Hunter and knew his friend was on the first flight he could grab.