Bound For Me(10)

By: Natalie Anderson

“Talk to me then,” he suggested amiably. “So I can want you for your mind as much as I want you for your body.”

He chuckled at the shocked expression in her eyes. What, she hadn’t expected that kind of honesty? Because it wasn’t a line and they both knew it.

“Besides,” he added. “You’re looking at me the exact same way. I don’t mind. Objectify away.”

She straightened. He liked that she didn’t try to deny it. Somehow he’d known she’d take up a challenge. She ran her gaze over him, acutely assessing. Pointedly. Her lips pursed, like she was disappointed. “It’s hard to objectify when I can barely see what you’ve got to show.”

Connor was momentarily stunned. Wow, she really knew how to throw a challenge.

“You want me to strip?” His blood quickened. He stood and pulled off his jacket. He had a thin merino sweater on beneath.

She cocked her head and gave him another once-over. “Not bad.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now you talk to me. I wouldn’t want to treat you like a piece of meat.” She smiled at him beatifically.

He chuckled. Sugarlips had principles? “What did you want to know?”

Her eyes glittered as she stalked back to the bar with the last couple of glasses in her hands. “Net worth, of course. What else?”

He laughed aloud. Nice. “You don’t want to know that I’ve got a sense of humor and can cook and know how to change a tire?”

“I take that as read.” She put the glasses down and shrugged. “But it makes no difference.”

It didn’t? “Is this why you’re here?” He probed with gentle viciousness. “To hook yourself a wealthy banker who likes to ski at exclusive resorts?”

“Of course.” She nodded sarcastically. “That’s why I’m so charming to them.”

“Treat them mean to keep them keen?”

He laughed at the filthy look she sent him. “I’ll tell you my net worth, if you tell me yours.” He leaned his elbows on the bar conspiratorially and waited.

“Not willing to share?” he prompted after only a moment.

“It’s irrelevant,” she drawled, like she didn’t give a damn. “Given you operate the ski lifts, I already know you’re not a wealthy banker.”

“Ah.” He nodded his head sadly. “You’re right. Maybe I’d better take off more clothes and try to up my rating that way.”

“You’re confident that’ll work?” she asked in a bored tone. But she was still watching him. So alert. So alive.

“I’m confident. No stunted growth issues here.” Hell, his usually loose pants were killing him, he was harder than he’d been in his life.

Something lit in her eyes.

“You want to check that out for yourself?” he invited. Please.

“I’ll take your word for it. For now.”

Had he just gotten harder? Game on. “Can I go back to objectifying you, or are you going to talk to me?”

Savannah glanced at him, weighing up her answer. Was it terrible to admit she was getting off on the way he was looking at her?

This wasn’t like being leered at by those pricks, this was like being savored. Like she was something rare and precious… and yeah, she’d clearly gotten high from the antiseptic fumes or something.

He laughed, suddenly looking so carefree. So sexy. “I do like the view,” he confessed. “Nothing wrong with looking, is there?”

No, maybe not. She was stupidly flattered. The desire to flirt unfurled completely. It was so foreign to her. When he’d walked in he’d struck her as the kind of guy who never smiled, he’d seemed so damn serious and pissed off. How wrong could a girl be?

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