Page 53 of Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy 2)
“Doesn’t matter. Just tell me what you want.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I don’t care, that I’ll have whatever he’s having, but I stop myself. Mount’s giving me a choice. From the beginning, he’s offered so few of those, and this one stands out in stark relief.
“A Belgian waffle with butter and syrup, and a side of bacon.”
The bellhop nods, and Mount adds his order.
“Steak and eggs. And send up a bottle of every Irish whiskey you stock in the hotel bar.”
I give the bellhop credit, because he doesn’t look nearly as surprised by this request as I must. Again, Mount slides a large bill into the man’s hand before he leaves.
“What’s with the whiskey?”
Mount shoots me a sideways glance. “Isn’t that why we’re here? To learn and network as much as you can?”
He actually listened.
“Yes.”
“Then I figure a bottle of each of the whiskeys they have will help you start prepping all your questions for the CEOs of the competition.”
“Like they’ll even talk to me,” I say with a laugh. “When I said make connections, I was thinking more along the lines of suppliers and buyers. Small ones. My level. I’m not exactly the CEO of a multinational conglomerate yet. I’m still running a tiny operation that’s barely profitable.”
Mount closes the distance between us and stares down at me. “Don’t, for a single second, put yourself in a category beneath anyone here. Walk into this conference like you’re their equal, because you are. Your operation may be small now, but as you told me, you’re not a shitty CEO and you’re still just getting started. You want to rule the whiskey world? Then act like you already do.”
His words resonate within me, giving me a boost of confidence I didn’t realize I needed. “You don’t exactly strike me as the pep-talk type.”
His lips flatten. “I’m not.”
That comment hits me even harder, because it means his little speech was unique for me. Warmth curls in the vicinity of my chest.
“Thank you. For all of this. It means a lot to me.” I lift my lips to press a kiss to his square jaw, now dark with stubble. When I lower myself on my heels to back away, Mount snakes an arm around my waist, yanking me against his chest.
“So that’s what it takes. A trip to Ireland. Duly noted.”
I don’t have time to process his statement before his lips crash down on mine, his tongue stealing inside and taking over.
When he lifts me off my feet, my legs wrap around his waist instinctively. He carries me into the bedroom, and we land on the bed with a hard bounce. Mount’s weight presses against me as I bury my hands in his hair.
I tell myself it’s gratitude fueling my actions, but I refuse to look deeper.
Mount tears the blouse from my body, sending buttons flying. He has my skirt shoved up around my waist when a knock comes at the outer door of the suite.
“Shit. The food,” I say on a harsh breath.
“Fuck the food.”
“That works for me.”
We both ignore the continued knocking, and the subsequent phone ringing, in favor of devouring each other.
For the first time, the power stru
ggle doesn’t take precedence. This is something different. Something . . . more daunting.
I push the disturbing thought away as Mount frees his cock and shoves my panties to the side, finding me already wet. He never breaks my stare as he pushes inside, slowly this time, burying himself inch by inch. When he’s fully seated, he growls a single word in my ear.
“Mine.”
