Bound for Me (Be for Me #4)(59)

“Of course not. But it was the only way I could think to make the situation better. I thought it would work out for everyone.”

“Well you were wrong.”

“I’m sorry how it turned out.” He marched up and grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to look up into his face. “But what would have happened if I hadn’t bought the hotel, Savannah? The bank would have foreclosed on him. He’d have been declared bankrupt—”

“He’s bankrupted now.” She lowered her gaze so she didn’t have to see the entreaty, and the truth, in his expression. “It was my dream,” she whispered. “My home.” The way this mountain was his. “I loved that hotel. It wasn’t exclusive, it wasn’t elite, but it was friendly. People liked it. I liked it… I couldn’t afford to buy it back. It’s gone forever.”

But it had been lost to her before Connor had stepped in.

She understood that it had been his way of trying to help again. Just like he’d fundraised for the cancer kid by shaving his head. He wasn’t all bad. But money didn’t solve problems. Money sometimes made them worse.

“I’m sorry you lost that dream, Savannah.”

“So am I.” She looked up at him then. “But I’ll get over it.”

His smile then was tentative. Genuine. And even though she was hurt. Even though she should know better, that smile totally stole her heart.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. Because that was the thing.

He wasn’t perfect. But he was honest even when it was uncomfortable. That meant a lot, made mistakes easier to forgive. And made her like him—too much.

“I should probably go,” she said.

She should go to home to Belle, find her father, make sure he was okay.

“No.” He grabbed her hand. “Stay. Six more nights, remember?”

“I—”

He kissed her. Wouldn’t stop kissing her. He knew what he did to her, didn’t he? That his kisses drugged, delighted and kicked her desire into the highest possible gear.

He stripped her, set about pleasing her. Knowing her weak spots. Caressing them. Teasing. Yet touching her so damn reverently.

She knew he was apologising. She didn’t want him to. She didn’t want this to deepen in that way.

She rolled onto her stomach, pushing up onto her hands and knees. Wanting to seek oblivion in his arms.

Just sex. Nothing but sex. Nothing but bodies f*cking.

“Hurry up,” she ordered, but her voice was croaky and weak.

And he flipped her back, nudging her legs apart, pinning her to the bed.

“I’m not letting you retreat Savannah. You’re right with me. Looking at me.” He kissed her again. “Like this morning. Only less cramped. Less quick.”

She couldn’t do that. She didn’t want to be that open to him again. That would let him in too close and already her heart ached.

“Let me touch you,” he breathed and bent his head to her breast. “Everywhere.”

Her head fell back onto the plush pillow, her eyes closing. His touches were too good. The sight of him bracing over her, bearing down on her? Her eyes glazed as she feasted on the beauty of him. She arched instinctively, melting into his hands, her body writhing on auto… a sinuous dance to entice him.

“That’s it Sugar, just like that.” He gripped her hand, stopping her from stroking him. He held it up high and resumed his touches.

His damn, slow, so-good-she-was-gonna-die flicking flingers.

But anger flared at her cellular-level response to him. At her inability to control it. She fisted her hands into the sheet beneath her. “I can’t—”

“Yes you can…” He shushed her. Kissed her. “It’s okay.” He swept her hair back from her damp face. “Let me. Trust me.”

She couldn’t trust anyone.

“Damn it, Savannah.” He pulled her down the bed and pinned her arms out wide. “Let go. I’m here.”

He was right. She was being stupid. It was just sex. Just physical pleasure and release. Nothing more serious.

And she was lost already. Her * drenched from his touches, her need stoked by his insistence.

“Let go, sugar. Just fall. I’ll catch you.” He started again. Kissing her, teasing her, until she melted.

And only then, once she lay warm, gently responding to each touch, only then did he move to cover her. He framed her face, looking deep into her eyes and thrust into her body. Slow, sweet thrusts that hit the sweet spot every, single, time. She couldn’t speak. Her lips parted but she was barely able to meet the kisses he gifted her in between the powerful forward surges of his hips.

“Come with me,” he ordered. “I want to feel you holding me hard, Savannah.”

And somehow her arms were tight around him, clinging to the wide, strong breadth of his shoulders. Her legs curled around him too as finally, blessedly, he began to move that bit faster.

“Connor,” she cried, a broken whisper. “Connor.”

“That’s the way.” He rocked into her again. “That’s the way.”

“Please.” She needed it faster, furious. Seeking that swift oblivion.

“Soon.”

This was too intense. This was too intimate. But he kept that sweetly torturous pace. Kept his eyes on her—locking her into this moment with him. Not just her body. But her heart.