The Marriage Contract (9 page)

“No.” He smoothed his hand over her hair. “Death is bad enough when it’s unavoidable. It’s hard not to resent someone for bringing it to your door.”

“Yeah.” She sounded strange, choked up and rigid, but he kept holding her until she relaxed against him. “I’m sorry. It’s been a trying few days.”

“For me, too. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do, or what arguments I come up with—everyone is hell-bent on moving this war forward.” Which had only solidified his determination to use the identity of Brendan’s killer to leverage the Hallorans to back off. If they did, then the O’Malleys and Sheridans would be forced to do the same since things hadn’t escalated to a point where they couldn’t take it back. He just had to pin James down for a meeting and convince him that vengeance would have to be enough to make his father happy.

“Teague…” His name sounded so damn sweet coming from her lips, somewhere halfway between a sigh and a plea. Her hands coasted up his back on either side of his spine.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Kiss me instead?”

His body responded even as his mind hesitated. That first night, she’d kissed him to distract him from questioning her about the bruises on her neck. On the surface, it didn’t seem like she was doing the same thing now, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that that was exactly what was happening. He kept his arms tense so she couldn’t wiggle out of them—not that she seemed to want distance between them, not when she kept up those distracting circles on his back, lightly dragging her nails over the thin fabric of his shirt. “Our problems aren’t going to go away just because we stop talking about them.”

“I know.” It was little more than a whisper. She tilted her head and pressed a kiss to his neck. “But I’m in danger of breaking under this stress if I can’t check out for a little while. Please, Teague, please help me check out.” She had to know what her saying his name did to him. There was no way she didn’t.

But still he resisted. “Angel, you’re making it fucking hard to do right by you.”

She laughed against his skin. “You don’t have a bed in this place?”

Fuck
. He closed his eyes, but that only made it worse, his entire world narrowing down to the feel of her in his arms, warm and more than willing. She wanted him. He should be thrilled to figure that shit out. But she didn’t want him because she was so overwhelmed with feeling or desire or…anything except the need to “check out.” He’d had sex for a variety of reasons in the past—and some of those were pretty flimsy—but this was the first time it’d stung to be used for his cock.

He’d wanted more with Callie.

He tangled his fingers in her hair and used that hold to move her back so he could meet those baby blues. “I’ll help you stop thinking for a while, angel, but we’re doing it on
my
terms.” She opened her mouth, but he talked right over whatever argument she had ready. “I’ll give you everything you need and more—but we’re not fucking tonight.” It felt wrong to term it that way, but if he gave in tonight that’s exactly what it would be. Fucking. He’d barely known this woman a week, and he already knew that he wasn’t going to be happy with just sex.

No, he wanted it all.

If they survived this conflict with the Hallorans, he might even get it. But only if he played his cards right.

So he waited for her to work through it, and saw the moment she decided not to fight him on this. She frowned. “You don’t want to have sex with me.”

“On the contrary, I want it a whole hell of a lot. But not like this.”

“You’re a very strange man, Teague O’Malley.” Her frown cleared. “But I’ll agree—on one condition.”

She’d agreed far too easily. He braced himself and asked, “What’s your one condition?”

“You let me take care of you tonight, too.” Her smile had a wicked edge that promised all sorts of pleasure.

“I think we can work something out.” He framed her face with his hands and kissed her, the smallest taste to herald a night he planned to make unforgettable. “Stay with me tonight. I want you in my bed when I wake up.”

She smiled against his lips. “Okay.”

It was a start. He couldn’t ask for more.

C
allie didn’t know what to make of this man. For all intents and purposes, she’d come over here ready to strip naked and have her wicked way with him. And he’d…turned her down. No, that wasn’t completely correct. Teague wanted her. The way he was staring at her said as much, those soulful eyes filled with a dark desire that called to her on a level she wasn’t prepared to deal with. She was starting to fear he wanted more than she could ever give.

Everything
.

He kissed her again before the thought could take root and truly terrify her, his tongue coaxing her mouth open and delving inside. They stood in his living room, fully clothed and with a breath of distance between them, and it was one of the single most seductive moments of her life. Because the man made love to her mouth, taking his time and seeming to savor every second, in no rush to move on until he’d had his fill. She sank into the kiss, letting it sweep her away as nothing else had in the last three days. This.
This
was why she was here. She’d never let herself go like this with another man—though she was hardly a virgin—but she and Teague were in this together, for better or worse.

He nipped her bottom lip, the shock slamming her back into the present. “You’re thinking too much, angel.”

“I don’t know how to stop.”

He lifted his head and grinned down at her, the wolfish expression threatening to curl her toes. “I can think of a few ways.”

Yes, yes, yes
. This was what she’d come here wanting. Needing. She licked her lips. “I like the sound of that.”

“I thought you might.” He stepped back and drank her entire body in with a single glance. She resisted the urge to smooth her hand down the dress she’d picked out with seduction in mind—the hem hitting halfway down her thighs and the neckline offering up her breasts for temptation. The perfect little black dress. With the way his gaze lingered on her chest and legs, she was suddenly glad she’d chosen it.

Teague stroked a hand up her side, stopping at her ribs and running his thumb along the underside of her breast. “It kills me that every time I’ve seen you, you’re never wearing a bra.”

Normally she did, but the memory of his strangled curse that first night when he found her without one was enough to drive her to leave that part of her wardrobe out when she knew she was going to see him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He dragged the straps of her dress over her shoulders and down, baring her from the waist up. “Fuck, I’m not even a little bit sorry when this is all it takes to be able to see you.”

Heat built under her skin as he cupped her breasts, his big hands playing over them with surprising gentleness. She held her breath, trying to keep in the moan building in her chest. The man touched her like she was breakable and utterly priceless. It was a far cry from the way he’d driven her out of her mind in the back of her SUV, and the contrast only made her hotter. Because this man had both sides in him—the feral beast and the poet.

How was she supposed to keep her emotional distance when she never knew which one would come to the fore?

He went to his knees and dragged her dress the rest of the way off, leaving her in only a pair of red panties. Teague’s harsh exhale was music to her ears. He helped her step out of the dress and then tossed it to the side, sitting back on his heels. He was tall enough that it put his line of sight directly with her panties, and he didn’t seem interested in moving.

Callie shifted, trying not to clench her thighs together. She’d never had a man look at her like that—it was foreplay all on its own. Her hands fell to the sides of her panties, ready to shove them down her legs to join her dress, but he stopped her. “Not yet.”

He waited for her to move her hands to use his grip on her hips to bring her a step closer. “I’ve been thinking about that night a lot.”

She didn’t have to ask what night he was talking about, because she’d been thinking about it, too. “Me too.”

His breath ghosted the skin directly below her belly button. “Have you touched yourself while thinking about me, angel?”

It was a question she never would have dreamed of answering under normal circumstances—except these were hardly normal. So she ran her fingers through his hair and nodded. “Yes.”

“Fuck, I love hearing that.” His eyes slid shut and he hummed in pleasure. “And while you were touching yourself, what were you fantasizing about?”

The apartment seemed to heat ten degrees while she fought against her instinctive response to beg off. If she told him what she’d fantasized about, would he do it to her? The desire for that was far stronger than any embarrassment she might have felt saying the forbidden words aloud. “You. Your mouth on me.” She hissed out a breath when he kissed the sensitive skin just below her belly button. “Your…hands.” His tongue dipped beneath the band. It wasn’t nearly close enough to where she wanted it, but her body still practically sizzled for him. “Your cock.”

“Mmm. And when you take my cock, how do you picture it?”

Oh God
. She couldn’t believe he wanted details, but she found herself answering—anything to keep him kissing his way closer to the apex of her thighs. “Me on top, riding you. You, taking me from behind.” His thumbs moved, inching her panties down her hips. She gave a desperate laugh. “God, all different ways and places. The shower, your bed, the SUV again.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my cock inside you.”

“Yes.”

Her panties hit the floor. He looked up at her, his slow grin doing a number on her heart rate. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you.”

She had the insane urge to argue with him, but she kept her lips sealed to prevent it from escaping and ruining the moment. Teague thought she was beautiful, and who was she to tell him he was wrong? Instead, she ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the feel of it—the feel of
him
. He’d promised that she’d get her turn to do some exploring of her own, and she fully intended to take him up on it. So she tugged on his hair. “My turn.”

For a second, she thought he may argue, but he pushed to his feet. She wasted no time in slipping her hands beneath the hem of his old, faded T-shirt. It was soft with countless washings and obviously well loved. She paused in the middle of pushing it up and read the text across his chest. “The Pogues?”

“They’re one of my favorite bands.”

She made a mental note to look them up when she had the chance. That was the least of her concerns right now, though. He lifted his arms so she could drag the shirt over his head and drop it on the ground next to them. Then she stepped back so she could see him.

Good lord
. He was magnificent, his muscles drawing her attention across his chest and down his stomach to where a trail of hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. She ran her hand up his stomach, silently delighting in the way his skin jumped at the contact, and stopped at the scar stretching diagonally across his left pectoral and over his shoulder. “What happened?”

Teague captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Another time, they would. But even as she continued her path over his shoulder and down his arm, she knew she couldn’t ask without risking him pushing
her
. Turnabout was fair play, after all, so she couldn’t open that conversation unless she planned on being honest with him.

Yearning rose inside her, strong enough to steal her breath, a need to tell
someone
the truth. Maybe it would lighten her burden to do so, to the point where she might actually get more than forty-five minutes of sleep at a time. If only she was sure she could trust Teague totally and completely, she could risk it.

But she couldn’t.

She wanted, him—desperately—but desire and trust weren’t even in the same stratosphere. So she pressed a kiss to the scar instead. That brought her to the medallion hanging around his neck. It was familiar—she had a similar one at home, though with a different saint. “Saint Jude.”

“Patron saint of lost and forgotten causes.”

She knew that. What she didn’t know what why he’d chosen that particular saint to wear so close to his heart. It said something about the man, something that seemed to indicate scars that ran deeper than the ones on his skin. She had the ridiculous urge to bundle him close and hold him until all that hurt him disappeared.

That wasn’t why Callie was here, though. She was here so
she
could forget. Needing to get back on track, she went for the button of his jeans.

Teague did his damnedest to focus on Callie, instead of the memories the scar across his chest evoked. He’d had it since he was twelve, the badge of a mouthy kid who hadn’t yet learned that sometimes it was better to keep his head down instead of trying to speak up over every injustice he saw. His father had made sure the lesson was one he’d never forgotten.

Her hands at his pants startled him back to the present. He held perfectly still as she unbuttoned the jeans and carefully dragged the zipper down. Her knuckles brushed his cock, and it took every ounce of control he possessed not to reach for her then and there. It had been hard enough to restrain himself when he’d been fully clothed and she still had her dress on. With them both naked, he didn’t like his chances of sticking to his guns.

No, damn it. He wanted to do right by her, and he fucking would. He’d decided he wanted this thing with Callie to work, really work. He liked her, wanted her, even respected her. But he didn’t trust her…yet. So right now it was all or nothing.

Easier said than done, though.

Especially as Callie worked his jeans down his legs, and he helped her out by stepping out of them. Her hands traveled over his skin as she rose, pausing over this scar and that—he had a few—until she was standing before him again. He raised his eyebrows. “Do I meet your inspection?”

“You’ll do.” Her smile warmed him in ways he wasn’t prepared for, because this serious woman was teasing him. It was a side of her he’d only gotten hints of up to this point, and he found himself wanting more.

“Are you sure? I think I have an upgraded model stashed in a closet around here somewhere.”

She laughed, the sound light and free, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him. The move had the entire front of her body pressed against his, the first time with absolutely nothing between them. He ran his hands over her, marveling at how perfect she was, soft and full and seemingly made for him. Before he could get carried away, he dipped down, swooping her into his arms with a move that had another of her infectious laughs slipping free.

He decided that he could spend his life trying to tease that sound from her.

He hadn’t forgotten that she came here specifically for what he could offer her physically, but he was willing to work with whatever he had to in order to keep her coming back for more. If he pushed too hard elsewhere, she might shut him out, and that was unforgivable.

So he’d bide his time and help her forget for a while whatever demons dogged her heels.

Eventually she’d open up to him. Maybe he’d go so far as to return the favor—though he doubted she really wanted to hear him bitch about his shitty father.

He used his foot to nudge open the door into his bedroom. It wasn’t anything particularly fancy, though the sheets were a high thread count and clean. The king-sized bed took up most of the space, barely leaving room for a single nightstand and a closet that was pathetically empty. A signal that he didn’t spend nearly as much time here as he’d like to—most of his valued possessions were in his room in the family home.

He laid Callie out on the bed, suddenly as desperate to stop thinking as she seemed to be. There were worse solutions than getting lost in the arms of a beautiful woman whom he was going to marry. He kissed her as he settled next to her, propping himself up on his elbow. The position gave him the freedom to touch her again, and he wasted no time cupping first one breast and then the other, lightly pinching her nipples until she writhed for him. Only then did he slide down her stomach to cup her between her legs. She was wet and ready for him, and he groaned against her mouth as he pushed a single finger into her. He pumped gently, gauging her reaction.

She dug her fingers into his hair and kissed him harder, her tongue thrusting into his mouth as she moaned.
Like that, do you? I’m just getting started, angel
. He spread her wetness around, circling her clit a few times like he’d learned she liked it, and then pushed two fingers into her. While he worked her with his fingers, he kissed down her jawline to her neck and then claimed one nipple.

“Oh God.” Her grip on his hair was damn near painful, but he relished the feeling of her losing control around him. For a woman would seemed to be buttoned up in day-to-day life, she was so fucking responsive and unfettered once he got his hands on her. It was enough to make him want to never let her go.

“Tell me what you want, angel.” He’d loved hearing that she’d been touching herself and thinking of him the last few days. Teague could get addicted to filthy words coming from that prim mouth of hers.

She arched her back and spread her legs wider. “Make me come, Teague. Please.”

Fuck
. All the dirty words in the world didn’t compare to her saying his name in that tone of voice. “Tell me how you want it.”

“Your mouth.” Her hands stayed in his hair as he moved down her body to settle between her thighs. He started to slip his fingers out of her, but her grip tightened. “And your hands. I want both.”

“Greedy girl.” It struck him that he’d give this woman the world if she asked it of him in that breathless voice. A shudder worked through him, but he pushed the thought away. Right now he had something else to focus on. He pumped his fingers in and out of her, adjusting to just the right angle that had her upper body nearly coming off the mattress.
There it is
. He pressed an openmouthed kiss to her clit while he kept up that motion, giving himself a few seconds to just enjoy the taste and feel of her before he zeroed in on the little flicks that had gotten her off last time.