“You do it,” she snapped at him. Damn it, she just wanted him.
He took it off her, still laughing. “Slow down, I’m not taking you yet.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated.
“You think that stuff is still in my system?” She rolled her eyes. “Or is it that you’re having second thoughts?”
“I’m not the one with second thoughts all the time. I want you to be sure that this is what you want. I don’t want you to have regrets.” He watched her so closely. So intently.
“You don’t want me to think badly of you?”
“I don’t want you to think badly of you.”
So not going to happen. “Take me. Here now. Hard,” she challenged.
She wanted to forget. She wanted it fast.
Fast and hard was safe.
She was sick of fighting it. Sick of lying in her bed alone wishing he was there, caressing her, filling her… no, fucking her.
Not having all of him last night was the stupidest thing she’d done. Because all she’d done since was think of him. Not checking out this place properly. Not concentrating. She was so damn distracted.
She stretched out on the thick rug, then rolled to her stomach, tossing her head so her hair tumbled behind her and she could see him as she shimmied her jeans and panties halfway down her thighs.
He ran his palm down her spine and she arched into the touch as he got to her butt.
“Damn it Savannah.” He muttered, his voice husky. “It’s the middle of the day, I have—”
“Do you want to or not?”
A muffled growl. “Too quick.”
“Never. I’m ready. Feel for yourself.”
He choked—a half-laugh, half-gasp. “You’re so outrageously bold. The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He shifted, pushing one knee between her jeans-hampered legs. “Or heard.”
Truth was she’d never spoken to a guy the way she spoke to him. Had never wanted to. Never thought to. But somehow he’d unleashed all her inner naughty.
And it seemed she’d done the same to him, because it wasn’t his cock that he tested her with. But his tongue. She moaned, writhed.
“So wet.” He muttered. “So delicious.”
“Now,” she gasped. “I want to come with you in me.” She wanted him—no, his cock. She was thinking purely physical. Nothing but two bodies seeking satisfaction.
Nothing truly intimate.
“You like it a little animal?”
“So do you.”
In answer he wrapped his arms around her so he could use one hand on her clit, the other cupping her breast, his fingers working her nipple through the lace of her bra. A tight, top-to-toe erotic embrace. With all his weight he pinned her in place so she didn’t slide away as he thrust into her.
And he thrust. Fierce.
Yeah, in this, they were so well matched. Because she loved having all of him on her like this, of the limited room he had to slide inside because of her inability to spread her legs wide.
Tight. Hot. Wet. Heavy.
“More,” she muttered. “Move. More.” Sensation rippled, she pushed, wanting deeper.
He thrust again. Then again. And she met him, stroke for stroke.
His fingers rubbed. Quickly. Not gently. She trembled, her senses hurtling towards the destination. Wanting it so badly. Harder. Harder.
She moaned, another wordless plea.
He held her more tightly. Her fingers curled into the plush pile of the wool carpet.
She closed her eyes, released a keening cry as his body slammed hers into orgasm.
She rested her head on her arms, limp, exposed. But right now she couldn’t move. He’d moved to lie beside her, but she could still barely breathe. As she recovered from the climax, he smoothed his hand over her lower back and butt in circling motions. He was probably aiming to soothe her, but all he was doing, was stirring up her lust again.
Damn. She really had turned nympho.
“Feel better?” he asked, sounding so smug.
“A little.” She aimed for ‘marginally impressed’ just to tease and followed through with a brass-balls comment. “A quick fuck wasn’t going to fix everything.”
That was true, though it had helped her forget for a moment.
But the real kicker was, Connor was right. He hadn’t lied to her. Her own father had. He’d taken the savings she’d given him and gambled them. One last throw on Lady Luck. And left Savannah with nothing. Maybe all this bitterness towards Summerhill and it’s resident might-as-well-be-royal family had been misplaced.
And maybe she was in trouble.
“Then we’d better try that again,” Connor said. “Slower.”
Yeah. She was definitely in trouble.
Chapter Fourteen
Connor watched as she rolled away and stood, pulling up her panties and jeans in the one movement. But he’d seen her flinch.
She didn’t want it slow? She didn’t want it in bed?
He said nothing as she quickly pulled her top back on. He still hadn’t had her completely naked. Still hadn’t had her enough.
The fact she was carrying the condoms made him hard all over again. She wanted this the way he did. Uncontrollably. But she was acting like it was clinical kind of need. Demanding a quick in, quick out. So she could remain detached?
He walked through to the bathroom and sorted himself out, grimacing as he pulled the zipper on his jeans. He’d liked it when she’d reddened. When she’d moaned. She’d been hot and passionate. God, he was doing it again. Harder, hotter. For longer. He wanted her in his bed. For hours. Wanted to feel her hot mouth over his skin. No clothes. No haste. Nothing but time and space to fully explore.
But when he walked back into the room she didn’t even look at him. She stood at the window, staring stonily out at the beautiful view.
“I need to get going,” she said briskly. “I’ll call in at home and change before my shift.”
“I’ll meet you at the bar when you’re finished. Give you a ride.”
He did meet her at the bar at the end of the night. Drove her home. They made it to the lounge before falling to the floor, grappling to get free enough of clothing to touch parts most hot and wet.
The second night, he needed to see her sooner. He spent the last half hour of opening time watching her from a stool at the end of the bar. Entertained—enthralled—by her slick tricks with the bottles, the tart attitude that still dripped from her tongue. The sharp, deft, but somehow delightful way she turned down the offers she invariably got.
They only just made it inside her doorway before he had her pinned against the wood.
The night after that, he sat on that barstool for hours watching the way she interacted with the regulars and made an efficient fuss of the newbies. The way she had them all like putty. And afterwards, she had his jeans unzippered by the time he’d started the engine of the SUV, curling her hand around his hard cock. Thank God he knew the roads so well or he’d never have made it to her unit.
The night after that, the attention she got from half her customers was starting to annoy him. He leaned over the bar. “I want to be alone with you.”
“This one time, you’re going to have to suck it up,” she said. “It won’t hurt you not to get what you want. At least, not right away.”
“You really want to teach me a lesson or two, don’t you?” He laughed. “You can’t stand me getting it all too easy. But the stupid thing is, you want exactly what I want too. You’re cutting off your nose to spite your face.”
“I’m at work.” She looked up at him. “I can control my want.”
He ignored the pierce of that little barb to tease her more. “Why do you feel you have to?” he raised his hands theatrically. “Why can’t you just enjoy what’s there to be enjoyed? Why not slow and easy and all night?”
She just laughed.
Connor waited out the rest of her shift. Getting madder at the interplay with most of the young, male customers.
“They never let up, do they? Guys ask you out all the time. Calling you gorgeous or sweetheart or darling or babe…” It pissed him off.
“They only do it to try and provoke me into a rude rejection.” She was looking at him somewhat surprised. Suddenly she smiled. “I was thinking about putting a ring on my finger and telling them my boyfriend back home in Belle has proposed.”
He stared at her for a moment, his brain not functioning at all.
She laughed again—not the teasing, vixenish, defensive, laugh of before, but a full ringing sound of delight. “You should see the look on your face.”
His heart pounded. Hard.
Cardiac arrest averted. Just.
The thought of a boyfriend back in her home town? He curled his hands into fists and pressed them into his thighs, fighting back the urge to reach for her.
But he did love that belly laugh of hers. So rare. So much fun.
She couldn’t let him stay the night, though she wanted to. But they never even made it to the bed. They screwed up against the wall mostly. Too eager for touch. Too hungry to make it further. She’d quickly gotten into the habit of removing her panties before getting into his car. Anything to make his access easier, to make it quicker at the other end.
But the gnawing hunger of desire only grew.
And now, almost a week since her official Summerhill tour, they’d gotten to the point where they just screwed in the car again—not even making it further away from the restaurant.