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 fuck 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.
He couldn’t stay away. Couldn’t wait another moment. She was so fucking hot he wanted another kiss. Now.
Staking a claim?
Hell yes.
Summerhill was his. And for the time being, she was his too.
He hated all those other guys looking at her, watching the way she moved as she flipped bottles while simultaneously flipping off any potential flirts. They all got off on her bitchy attitude. Yeah, he knew exactly what they were thinking because he sure as shit was thinking it. Fact was she owned the balls of every man present. Even his.
Especially his.
“Connor.” Her voice was hoarse but her gaze didn’t waver from his. Her eyes sparkled but were hard. Bewitching him. Because despite that brilliant glitter, he knew the reason for the defense.
She was aroused. And she didn’t want to be.
So that made two of them.
As he looked at her, everything that should matter, didn’t. All thoughts of his company, his family, his life… Nothing mattered in the face of this.
Want.
He’d had so many propositions tonight, could pick from an assortment of beautiful, willing bedmates. But he didn’t want any of those women.
Only Savannah.
He was screwed.
And he was pissed with her for being here at all. But she wasn’t one to run away from a threat. Wasn’t going to be cowed by those jerks. She’d fronted up determined to own the place. Which she did. For a while there he’d actually been proud.
But he was sick of pouring drinks now. Sick of the eyes-all-over-her, the comments. Dante, Luca’s younger brother, could step up. He was taking Savannah home.
But he couldn’t seem to move. Couldn’t seem to breathe.
Her lips glistened from the melted ice. His mouth watered. He wanted to taste so bad. Not just her mouth, but her body, her sex. He wanted every intimacy he hadn’t had the chance to take the other night. He wanted to lick every part of her, taste her orgasm, swirl his tongue in her—
“Connor.”
Her voice whispered across his skin, yet it was like she’d whipped him. He flinched.
“You need to serve some people.”
“No.” He didn’t. He needed to serve her. Then he’d have every inch of her.
Own her for the night.
But just as he moved to take her hand, he caught sight of a tall, unsmiling figure leaning idly against the back wall.
Fuck.
He was jerked back to reality. Not what he wanted right now.
“I need a minute.” Connor reached behind her and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge.
“Clearly.” She muttered. “You can’t handle the pace?” Her eyes glinted at him. “I don’t know what it is with staff these days, they have no stamina,” she shrugged. “You look the part, but you can’t keep up.”
She was paying him back for the kiss, but he knew the truth. She was a live volcano under the ice act and in his arms she melted faster than butter on a griddle.
He took a couple deep breaths and walked away from the bar, ignoring the hungry-eyed stares from so many of the women and the frat-house comments from half the guys.
Finally he reached the man standing apart from all the rest and handed him the beer. “When did you get back?”
Hunter Shaw took the beer but didn’t take his eyes off the woman standing behind the bar. “Savannah Nash. Looks like trouble.”
Connor exhaled. Trust Hunter, security specialist and part-time PI, to get straight to it. “Yeah, I have that figured already.”
Hunter didn’t look surprised. “Rumor has it you had an interesting night last night.”
“How can you have been here for less than five minutes and know this already?” Connor glared at his friend.
“I have my sources.” Hunter actually cracked a smile and finally glanced at him. “You know her father—”
“Don’t.” Connor shut him up. “I’m dealing with it.”
“By fucking her?”
Connor didn’t answer.
Hunter’s eyes widened. Which for Hunter was an extreme reaction. “Shit, Con. You finally went balls deep after who knows how long, and you chose her?” He shook his head. “And there’s everyone thinking Logan’s the risk-taker, what the fuck were you thinking—ohhhh.”
What? Connor stared at his buddy. He hadn’t been thinking at all, at the time actually.
“Smart,” Hunter lifted his beer in a toast. “Devious in fact. I’d even stretch to evil genius. Or maybe just bastard.”
“I prefer evil genius.” Though he still didn’t get what he’d done that was so evil or so genius.
“You screwed her to silence her. No way she can go public now. She’ll be too much the scorned lover.”