McFarlane's Perfect Bride / Taming the Montana Millionaire: McFarlane's Perfect Bride
from under her thick lashes. “Let me. Please.”
He settled back against the pillow again and folded his hands behind his head. “Absolutely. Be my guest.” He spoke teasingly, though he wanted only to grab her, roll her under him and bury himself deep in her waiting softness.
She was kind. She didn’t fool around. She had the pouch open and the condom sliding down over him within seconds. The touch of her hand as she guided it into place, snugging it neatly, evenly, at the base, almost undid him.
But not quite. She bent over him, so her lips were no more than a breath away from his. “Good?”
He refused to move. If she wanted to take control, so be it. “Excellent.”
She slid a leg over him and went up on her knees astride him, but away from him. Her eyes weren’t so teasing anymore. They were hungry. Ready.
He resisted the powerful urge to grab her hips and surge up into her.
She bent close, though she didn’t lower herself down onto his waiting hardness. She whispered, “You’re gritting your teeth.”
“And you’re driving me wild.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” She kissed him, slowly, a brushing kiss that turned deeper—and then deeper still.
“Come down to me, Tori. Now …”
Impossibly, miraculously, she actually obeyed him. He felt her against him—there, where he needed her— and then he slipped inside.
She was wet and hot and, oh, so welcoming. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her then. He took her hips and pulled her down onto him.
She moaned then. So did he.
And she rode him, kissing him, her hips working in a rhythm that shattered him, that broke him into a thousand tiny pieces—and then somehow put him back together again.
At the last minute, as he knew he was losing it, he grabbed her more firmly by the round curves of her bottom and he rolled her, so he was on top. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him, holding him, rocking him, murmuring his name.
He muttered, “Tori,” and then again, “Tori,” as the world spun away. He saw utter darkness behind his eyes. And then, at the last possible moment, as she turned him inside out, the darkness turned to shimmering light.
They must have slept.
When he woke, the bedside clock said it was almost five. Tori lay beside him, her face so innocent and sweet in the light of the lamp they’d left on, her strawberry hair bright as sunshine spilled across the pillow.
He tried to slide his arm out from under her head without waking her. But her eyes drifted open.
“Connor …”
“Um?”
“What time …?”
“Five to five.”
“You have to go? “
“Unfortunately.” He bent close, brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Tonight I’m going out to the Douglas Ranch. Caleb invited me to dinner.”
She made a low, knowing sound. “More hush-hush negotiating, huh? “
“We aren’t quite at that point yet. Want to come with me?”
She shook her head. “I think I’ll just stay out of that, if you don’t mind.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Tuesday, then? I’ll take you to dinner.”
“I have a better idea.”
“What could be better than you, me and dinner?”
“You, me, CJ, Ryan, Jerilyn … and dinner.”
He groaned. “Dinner with the kids. Not exactly the romantic evening I had in mind.”
She chided him, “You know it’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is.” He planted a kiss on her sweet mouth and slid his arm out from under her. “Okay. Tuesday. Dinner with the kids—and I have to go.” He jumped from the bed and grabbed his briefs and his jeans. When he was fully dressed, he bent close to her for a final kiss. “Every summer should start this way.”
She twined her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to his. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“You didn’t.” Allaire wore an expression of total disbelief. She sent a quick glance around the Tottering Teapot, clearly worried that someone might have heard what Tori had just said.
“Yeah,” Tori answered, after savoring a slow bite of her avocado and swiss sandwich with sprouts. “I did. We did. And it was wonderful.”
Allaire leaned closer across the lace tablecloth and pitched her voice barely above a whisper. “But you said yourself he admitted he’s buying out the resort—and then leaving town.”
“I like him. I like him a lot. I want to be with him, for as long as it lasts.”
A look of concern crossed Allaire’s face. “I just don’t want to see you hurt, Tori.”
“I know you don’t. And I realize that I might be hurt.”
“Might?” Allaire demanded.
Tori busted to the truth. “Okay. I guess it’s likely, in the end. But I want to be with him more than I want to protect myself against heartbreak. Sometimes you just have to go for it, you know? Go for it and not count the cost.”
Connor couldn’t stay away from Tori.
She drew him like a bee to a flower, a kid to a cookie jar. He stopped by her house that afternoon and confessed that he couldn’t bear to keep away. Tori said she understood completely, that she felt the same.
That night, he went out to the Douglas Ranch, as planned. Riley Douglas, who was Caleb and Adele’s son and Grant Clifton’s partner in running the resort, showed up, too. Riley was silent through most of the meal—silent and watchful. When Caleb and Connor discussed the resort, Riley said that he was sure he and Grant could turn things around, given time.
Caleb looked at his son and said in a weary tone, “Money’s tight. You know that. And time is the one thing I don’t have a lot of.”
“Just don’t rush into anything,” Riley warned.
“I’m not rushing,” Caleb replied, sending Connor a telling glance. “I’m considering the options, son. Considering them fully.”
When he left the Douglas Ranch, Connor went straight to Tori’s. She didn’t ask if Caleb had offered to sell him the resort—or anything about what had happened during his visit with the Douglases. He knew she didn’t want to know.
And he was more than content to say nothing of his meeting with Caleb. He only wanted to take her in his arms, to feel her soft body pressed close to his.
Tuesday morning after he took CJ and Jerilyn out to Melanie’s, he got a call from Grant Clifton. Grant wanted to speak with him alone.
Connor drove up toward the resort, stopping off at the office complex down the mountain from the main lodge. Grant led him to his private office and shut the door.
Grant was furious, Connor could see that in the tightness of his square jaw. He said he’d talked to Riley Douglas that morning.
“Riley clued me in. I get the picture now, and I don’t much like what I see. You want the resort and when you get it, people who matter to me, people who have worked hard here, are going to be without their jobs.”
“Grant, come on. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“I liked you,” Grant said with deadly softness. “I heard you were here to be with your son, to smooth over past differences with your