Bound For Me(7)

By: Natalie Anderson

Not everyone, no.

“It doesn’t bother you?” he suddenly asked. “The way they talk?”

She shrugged. “I don’t let it.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It’s not your problem.” She fell silent at the look in his eyes. Her stupid pulse sped up.

“Will you tell me your name?” he asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe not.” His smile was wry. “You don’t want to know mine?”

“No. I don’t.” She definitely didn’t. She didn’t want to know anything more about him… right?

“Have a drink with me.”

“Not while I’m working.” Keep it together, Savannah. Keep as cool as ever.

“Bar’s closed now,” he pointed out. “Anyway, it doesn’t have to be alcoholic. Isn’t it your duty to keep the customer happy?”

“As the bar’s now closed, it’s no longer my duty,” she countered, unable to hold back a small smile.

“Choice then. Will you choose to stay and talk to a lonely customer?”

“Lonely or alone?” she asked lightly. “There’s a difference. You seemed happy to be alone and uninterrupted not so long ago.”

His lips twisted. “My job sometimes makes me unpopular.”

Why, did he have to ban people from using the chairlift? And that took time to get over at the end of each day? The ironic thing was she understood—when you worked serving people all day, at the end of it all you wanted was some alone time.

“They like watching you,” he laughed softly. “How long have you been working here?”

“Almost three weeks.”

“And you’ve made such an impression on the customers already.” He waggled his eyebrows, teasing.

“Some of them.” Heat simmered in her belly. She’d been left utterly cold by those guys. By all guys these last few months. But here she was on total defrost. All because of an unexpected sense of humor and blue, blue eyes.

“You do the lifts?” Her voice rusted.

“Only for today.”

Her pulse flitted faster. Was he leaving?

That heat climbed the rung to sizzling. Possibilities raced through her mind. The kind of possibilities she’d never entertained before. “You’re finishing up?”

“Other things I have to do.” He nodded.

Other places to go. He had that restless look in his eyes. And that was a good thing, right? Because Savannah didn’t want any distractions. Didn’t want anything else to think about—but for this one moment?

“I don’t agree with them, by the way,” he said.

Some how he was closer. Quieter. Somehow he knew.

She raised her eyebrows, she’d keep cool to the end.

“About what you need,” he clarified.

She swallowed.

“You don’t need it hard up the ass, or in your mouth or where ever the hell else they want to stick their tiny dicks.”

She stifled a laugh. “No.”

“I’m not saying there’s nothing you need, though…” He cocked his head, looking into her eyes.

“What do you think I need?” She braced herself for the obvious.

His lips softened into that unexpectedly warm smile. There was heat in his eyes, yes, but humor in his mouth. And easiness. And it was so unexpected. “Maybe some fun,” he idly mused. “Maybe some release. Maybe some…” he paused, his gaze sharpening. “Pleasure.”

That heat rippled out from her belly, cascading through her body, crawling over her skin. Good lord, she was blushing.

“Yeah.” His smile broadened, warmed. “Pleasure. Whatever is your pleasure. Plenty of it.”

She melted. Speechless.

Just from that.

What was wrong with her? Usually she’d have slammed him down with a sharp-edged comment and her best bitch face. For so long she’d been too uptight to let go. Too bound by her family’s scandals. Too scared of being swept away—like her mom with her insane affair that had screwed the lives of too many people.

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