Memories of all they’d done together last night flooded through Savannah’s mind.
Her vaginal muscles instantly squinched, recalling the incredible pleasure of the amazing climax the previous night. It had been so fantastic, but…what happens now?
“Sleeping beauty awakes,” Matt drawled in an indulgent tone.”You could have waited for my kiss.”
Relief poured into her smile. He wasn’t setting their fantasy aside yet. Maybe there would be more than one night. Lots of nights.
“I haven’t slept for a hundred years, have I?” she tossed back at him, wondering what time it was and if he had any plans for today—plans that included her.
“No. But it’s time you were up if you want to come to the races with me.” He said.
“Races?” Savannah asked.” What races? “
“I have a horse running… thingy this afternoon. It’s the maiden race and I said I’d be there to watch.” He replied.
Horse-racing! Billionaire playground, she thought. It had never been a part of her world but she was up for any new experience shared with this man. More adventure. Colourful, too.
“Do people dress up for that?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said, arrogantly dismissive of the clothes aspect, strolling around the bed to sit beside her, smiling as he stroked the mussed tresses of her hair away from her face.”I’ll dress you like a princess.”
The connection to their fantasy didn’t work for Savannah this time. It was okay for Matt to invite her to go along with him. She wanted to. But dressing her… did he mean what she thought he meant?
“How do you intend to do that?” she asked warily.
He shrugged.”I’m acquainted with the top designers in town. All it takes is a call to get something suitable brought here. What style of clothes appeals to you…Lisa Ho, Peter Morrisey, Colette Dinnegan …?”
He hung the celebrity names out with such a blasé air of confidence, Savannah felt herself bridling against his assumption that she would fall in with his plan— be his mannequin—because he had the power and the wealth to dress her any way he pleased.
“No, thank you,” she said decisively.
“No?” The caressing hand stilled. He frowned in disbelief.”You’re saying no?” he asked.
His eyes blazed into hers, determined on reigniting the intimate connection they had made last night. It had been good…great…incredibly fantastic…and her body instantly rebelled against any negative dictate that might end it right here. She wanted to be with him, wanted what they’d shared to continue, yet some gritty part of her brain would not let her be taken over or made over by anyone.
If Matt thought he could buy her compliance…where was any respect for her in that?
“You don’t own me, Matt. Let me make that clear,” she said quietly. “Last night I chose to be with you and I still have the right to choose what works for me.”
His frown deepened. “You can’t want to end it now.” He said.
They were fighting words. He was gearing up to battle any barrier she threw at him. Which was certainly proof that he cared about keeping her, though whether that was for the sex or driven by an attraction on a deeper level, Savannah couldn’t tell.
The tension emanating from him tore along her own nerves. She didn’t want to be in conflict with this man. He was special. Uniquely special. But this was real life, not an impulsive adventure, and real life had taught her that any kind of domination was bad.
She’d had experiences with men who expected her to fall into line with them, following wherever they led, not even considering or respecting the fact that she had a mind of her own—a mind that would not play second fiddle to anyone else’s. As powerful as Matt Bradford undoubtedly was, Savannah was not about to crumble under his will.
“I’d be happy to accompany you to the races, but not as your doll,” she said determinedly.
“Doll?” he repeated.
He didn’t like the description, but Savannah couldn’t think of anything more apt.
They weren’t “clicking” this morning. Maybe it was only fantasy that had brought about the “click” last night. Disappointment cramped her heart. She couldn’t stay in his bed if he didn’t respect the person she was.
“I can dress myself, Matt. I was just checking with you what would be suitable for the occasion.” She said.
He grimaced, annoyed at not having read the stand she was making. The dark eyes softened with apologetic appeal. “I only meant to smooth the way, not offend you, Savannah. I didn’t want you to feel out of place with the people who’ll be there.” He said.
Protecting her?
The knots in her stomach loosened. That wasn’t so bad. But the means of doing it was unacceptable. And there could be another motive behind his intention to put her in designer clothes. “You think I might shame you in front of them?” she challenged, watching his eyes to see if she’d hit a chord of pride.
Cinderella was fine for the bedroom but not to be paraded out in public?
His chin lifted in dismissive scorn. “I wouldn’t care if you wear jeans.” A cynical mockery glittered in his eyes. “It’s the women who enjoy pecking other women apart. It didn’t seem like a good idea to subject you to that, but if you can let it float over your head…”
“Fine!” She said. A joyous relief poured into a smile so wide Matt looked as though he was completely thrown by it. “What time is it?” she asked.
“Almost nine,” he answered somewhat absently.
“And what time do we have to be at the races?”
“About noon.”
“I can do it.” She hurled off the bedclothes, leapt out of bed and headed for a door, which stood ajar and obviously led to an ensuite bathroom. “Would you call me a taxi, Matt?” she tossed over her shoulder. “I’ll be showered and dressed, ready to go in fifteen minutes.”
“Go where?” He was on his feet, ready to take preventative action if he didn’t like her reply.