The Marriage Contract (10 page)

She went wild beneath him, until he had to use his free hand to pin her hips. Her entire body tightened, her pussy milking his fingers. She cried out, his name on her lips as she came. “
Teague
.”

He gave his fingers a few more pumps, drawing her orgasm out as much as possible. Only when she was limp and flushed did he give her clit one last thorough kiss and then move up to lie next to her. He was so fucking hard, it was a wonder he didn’t lose it while he’d been going down on her. It was far too tempting to sink into all that welcoming wet heat.

Not yet. Not tonight.

Callie stretched, her arms over her head, her body one long line that had his mouth watering, and then she moved, pushing his shoulder and shoving him onto his back. She came with him, ending up straddling his waist. Her grin was back, and he drank in the sight of it like a starving man. She shifted, her pussy sliding along his cock, teasing him. “You make me so hot.”

He grabbed her hips, but then froze, not sure if he wanted to make her stop that mind-blowing movement or if he wanted to lift her, adjust their angle, and then sheath himself to the hilt. She took the choice away from him, sliding down his body to take his cock in hand. “I’ve thought about doing this, too.”

“I’m sure as fuck not going to stop you.” He reached down, gathering her hair in his fist and drawing it to the side so he could see everything. She stroked him, somewhere between teasing and exploration, before finally dipping her head and taking him between her lips. His eyes damn nearly rolled back in his head as she sucked him down until he bumped the back of her throat. “Holy shit.”

She hummed a little as she licked and sucked and drove him out of his godforsaken mind. Watching his cock disappear between those sinful lips was almost as good as the feel of her around him. Almost. He closed his eyes, trying to hold on, to keep control, but she reached between his legs and cupped his balls, squeezing just hard enough that he was lost. “Angel, I’m—”

She didn’t stop. Fuck, she picked up her pace, driving him crazy, building the pleasure until he couldn’t hang on a second more. He came, thrusting into her mouth as she sucked him down. When she finally lifted her head, he was well and truly spent. “You’re fucking amazing.”

“I do what I can.” She kissed his hip bone and let him drag her up his body to tuck against his side.

“Stay the night.”

“I already said I would.”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “Still thinking too much?”

She laughed. “It’s safe to say you drove every single thought right out of my mind.”

And she’d more than returned the favor. All in all, he considered the night a tally in the win column. His time with Callie was a little oasis in the shit storm of their current circumstances, but he was willing to fight tooth and nail to keep it. Apparently he’d needed the break nearly as much as she had. He pulled her closer, something settling in his chest when her arms settled around his waist. “Good.”

Tomorrow would be a new day. At least they had tonight.

C
allie woke up wrapped in Teague’s arms. She blinked at the faint morning light steaming through the windows, the disorientation of not being in her own bed making her frown before the events of the night before came rushing back. She relaxed, inhaling the spicy male scent that seemed to permeate the space around her. It was tempting to close her eyes and move closer to the man now nuzzling the back of her neck, but she’d already been gone from home too long.

The responsibility settling around her shoulders seemed to get heavier each time she picked it up. Instead of this reprieve lightening the load, it had actually added to her worries.

Because she
liked
Teague.

He wasn’t like any man she’d known before—something that was becoming clearer and clearer the more time she spent with him. He treated her like a woman of worth, which shouldn’t be so startling. But it was. She slipped out of his arms, holding her breath until she was sure he hadn’t woken. She dressed quickly, her gaze darting back to the man sprawled across the bed. The features that had seemed so harsh and unforgiving when she first met him turned into something else entirely when relaxed in sleep. He was almost…beautiful.

Or perhaps she was becoming biased because her body came alive when he touched her.

Callie slipped out the door, pausing to make sure it was locked behind her, and hurried to her car. The entire drive home, her mind kept helpfully replaying everything they’d done last night. The man held her like he actually cared, which was preposterous considering how short of a time they’d known each other.

It dawned on her that maybe she wasn’t the only one with growing emotional attachment.

No. I can’t afford to lose focus—especially right now
. The words did nothing to reassure her. Because she’d barely been out of his presence for twenty minutes and she was already craving him again. The insane impulse to turn around and drive back to his place rose so intensely, she actually reached for her blinker before she stopped herself. The real world wouldn’t wait, and the longer she hid, the worse it would be when she came home.

And if she never came home?

She shut the thought down before it could take root. She couldn’t walk away from the Sheridan empire, even if she were so inclined—which she wasn’t. She was the heir, which meant she was responsible for ensuring the safety of her people and the ongoing lucrative income of their various businesses.
She
was the one who would bring them into the legal side of things and remove as much danger as possible from their lives. If she could get all of their front businesses running as well as Moira’s, they wouldn’t need the money generated by the illegal side of things.

If she disappeared, things would fall apart when her father died. The generals would fight among themselves, and the clawing and fighting for power would destroy what was left of their people.

She couldn’t let that happen.

No, her fantasies about holing up with Teague until this nightmare passed were just that—fantasy. She’d already been too lax in letting Papa keep her out of things, no matter if he wanted to protect her or if he had other reasons altogether. Whatever his thinking, it had to stop.

She parked the car in the garage and strode into the house. Her footsteps echoed on the tile, the click of her heels standing out in the silence. At this hour there should be people around. It was Friday, which meant the cleaning ladies, at least, should be here for their weekly tidy up. Callie headed for her father’s office—the one place there was guaranteed to be some sort of activity—and knocked.

“Come in.”

A part of her that she hadn’t even realized was tense relaxed at the sound of Papa’s voice. Nothing was wrong. There hadn’t been an attack of some sort on the house. They were safe. For now.

She slipped into the office and shut the door. She took a deep breath, deciding it’d be best to get straight to the point. “Papa, no more shutting me out. If you expect me to stand as heir, you need to let me be part of making the decisions.” He had to know the time for trying to protect her had passed. It was time for her to step up and deal with the consequences, one way or another, and take an active role in this mess.

It was her fault, after all.

A throat clearing brought her up short. She turned around to find that her father wasn’t the only one in the room. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were Micah, or even John, but she didn’t immediately recognize the two women standing by the bookshelves that lined the wall on either side of the door. She attempted a smile. “I apologize. I didn’t realize you had company.”

“I don’t. You do.” He motioned at the older of the two, a woman who could have been anywhere between thirty-five and fifty-five, though the self-assured way she carried herself made Callie think she fell somewhere on the older end of the spectrum. Her long dark hair didn’t have so much as a hint of gray, but there were faint crow’s-feet fanning out from her green eyes when she smiled.

“Callista, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Again?

Things fell into place, and the reason the woman looked so familiar became clear. “Mrs. O’Malley.” Teague’s mother.

Which made the other woman—a younger version of her mother, right down to the green eyes—one of Teague’s sisters.

“Oh, no, please call me Aileen. We’re about to be family.” She sailed over and enveloped Callie in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. Her warmth would be significantly more convincing if her daughter didn’t look so shocked by it before she wiped the expression off her face.

Good to know
.

She pasted a bright smile on her face. “Of course.” But why were they here? It was poor timing, to say the least, especially with Papa looking like he wanting nothing more than to boot the entire lot of them out of his office.

Aileen must have caught her look. “Carrigan and I are here to help with wedding planning.”

She blinked, the words forming and reforming in her mind as she tried to make sense of them. Wedding planning. They were on the brink of war and these women wanted to drag her off for
wedding planning
? She shot a look in her father’s direction. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Of course. Your wedding is less than four weeks away.” Aileen’s sharp look at Papa was enough to tell everyone in the room what she thought of the accelerated timeline. “I’d be a poor mother if I didn’t ensure that the first of my brood to marry had the wedding of his dreams.”

Considering she knew Teague hadn’t chosen this wedding any more than she had—and they were on the verge of all-out war—the statement bordered on preposterous. “Perhaps we can reschedule? I have a meeting with my father—”

“Your father has assured me that you have no plans for the day. Carrigan, why don’t you help Callista pick out something a bit more appropriate to wear while I discuss the budget with Colm?”

Which was how Callie found herself being escorted out of her father’s office and getting the door slammed in her face. She glared at the heavy wood for a long moment before remembering that she wasn’t alone in the hall. “Is your mother always so…?”

“She gets what she wants, when she wants it. Even our father doesn’t cross her.” Carrigan shrugged. “You can try to get out of what she has planned today, but I wouldn’t bet against her.”

Frustration threatened to choke her. There were so many more important things to be worried about right now. War. Threats from the Hallorans. The future of the Sheridans with her at the helm. The wedding didn’t even place top ten. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding for it a few seconds and then releasing it. The frustration didn’t disappear, but it was manageable now. She knew better than to fight battles she wouldn’t win, and she definitely didn’t want to cause any tension with the O’Malleys. It was more than potentially alienating a future mother-in-law. They were allies against the Hallorans and any other threat that arose—allies that, frankly, Callie’s people needed.

Which meant she had to spend today doing mindless errands like picking out flowers and deciding on catering.

She opened her eyes to find Carrigan watching her closely. The woman was as beautiful as her mother—possibly even more so. She had the kind of flawless bone structure that would last through the years, her softness burning away to leave only steel in its wake. Callie recognized it because her mother had had the same thing. She’d like to think she did as well, but she was hardly unbiased. “I need twenty minutes.” It would be cutting it close, but she refused to leave the house without at least a shower.

Especially since she swore she could smell Teague on her skin.

“I’ll stall her, but you should hurry.”

She hurried.

Twenty-two minutes later, she was back downstairs, showered and dressed in a pair of slacks and a silk shirt. Aileen swept a quick look over her. “You’ll do.”

Callie tamped down on her irritation. She’d dealt with women like Aileen O’Malley before, though most of them didn’t actually have the power they seemed to think they possessed. Aileen actually did.

So she smiled and followed the woman out to the limo parked in front of the house. Five minutes in her future mother-in-law’s presence, and she was already exhausted. The woman might smile and fawn when it suited her, but it had to be a mask. Callie had met Seamus O’Malley, and he was the kind of person who chewed up everyone around him and left them bleeding in his wake if they weren’t strong enough to endure.

Aileen was anything but broken.

In some ways, that made her even scarier than her husband.

After his night with Callie, Teague was only more determined to put a stop to this bullshit war. He spent the morning trying to get a hold of James, and finally pinned the man into agreeing to drinks tonight. It was at Mickey’s, which was right in the middle of Halloran territory, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It had the slight bonus that no one connected with the O’Malleys would see him talking to James. He doubted his father or Aiden would support it—not when it was growing clearer every day that they weren’t particularly torn up about the impending war.

Impending
. He didn’t even know if he could call it that anymore. It was here, whether he liked it or not.

He walked into Mickey’s, stopping just inside the door to take in the room. On the surface, it looked just like a hundred other Irish pubs scattered around Boston—a little dark, a little dingy, and mostly empty. Or it did until he saw the crest above the bar—a shield, half-white and half-red, with a white horse on the bottom half—marking it as owned by the Hallorans. His family had something similar in the places they patronized regularly.

He’d suggested meeting somewhere in neutral territory, but James had shot him down immediately. For whatever reason, he wanted the home court advantage. Unfortunately, Teague wasn’t in a position to tell him no. So here he was, hoping like hell he wasn’t walking into a trap.

The bartender stopped wiping down the bar and looked at him, the man’s thick, bushy brows lowering until they practically covered his eyes. “Help you?” His tone said the only thing he was helping Teague with was to get his ass out the door.

“He’s with me, Tommy.” James walked through the door leading into the back—most likely to a private room—and stopped. “Been a long time.”

“Yeah.” He took in the man’s changes the same way he suspected James was surveying him. He’d grown in the years since they’d last laid eyes on each other, his blond hair now hitting his shoulders and a close-cropped beard covering his jaw. James looked closer to a biker than a businessman, but then his father had never put the emphasis on poise and surface manners the way Teague’s had.

“Nice suit.”

He looked down at the Armani clothing and shrugged. “It works.”

“Sit your ass down and let’s talk.”

He followed James to a booth tucked in the back of the bar and slid in. “I—”

“Hold on.” He raised his voice. “Tommy?” A few seconds later, the bartender set two beers down and lumbered away. James picked his up, his eyes never leaving Teague’s face. “Didn’t your piece-of-shit father teach you any manners? First you make small talk. Then you go in with your pitch.”

Teague grabbed his own beer, and grinned despite the clock ticking away in the back of his mind. As much as he’d like to spend time with the man under different circumstances, keeping the people he cared about safe was his only priority right now.

And James was one of the few people who could help make that happen.

But the man was right—there was a way to do these things, even if the custom annoyed the shit out of him. He sat back and motioned with his bottle. “How about them Red Sox?”

James grinned. “Hell of a year they’re having.”

“Think they have any chance at the play-offs?” With all the shit going on, he’d missed the game last week—and would probably be missing more in the future. The thought was too damn depressing.

“Who knows? I sure as fuck hope so.” He glanced away. “It’d be a nice distraction.”

Wasn’t that the truth? Anything that was a distraction from the shit show they were currently running was welcome. Sadly, it would be months before the play-offs, and he had a feeling this thing would be done and over with by then—or they’d be so busy killing each other that they wouldn’t have time for baseball.

Teague sat back. “How the hell are you?”

“My brother’s dead and my old man’s gone and lost his goddamn mind.” James shrugged. “I’m doing exactly how you’d expect.”

A fair point. None of them was doing great these days, but James certainly had the shit end of the stick. He took a long pull of his beer. “I thought we were making small talk.”

“I got nothing after the Sox.”

“Um, a scorcher of a summer we’re having.” He laughed when James shot him a look. Needling the man shouldn’t be so damn delightful, but he’d take his silver lining where he could find it. It was all harmless—or as close to harmless as possible.

“Heard you’re getting married. Never thought you’d be one to be the dancing monkey for your old man.”