Beyond Affection: Callaghan Brothers, Book 6 Page 7

  “Thanks for hanging out,” she said into his shoulder.

  “My pleasure,” he said, meaning it. “How’s the hand?”

  * * *

  “Sore, but manageable. I think I’m going to stick with the over the counter stuff today, though. I’d prefer to be lucid for a little while.” And not miss another minute with you. “I guess Corinne told you what happened, huh?”

  Shane stroked her upper arm with lazy movements that had her nestling closer. It was impossible to get close enough to him; an effort not to climb up on his lap. Thankfully, she managed to control her baser impulses and he didn’t seem to mind the invasion of his personal space.

  “Yes. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  She smiled against his collarbone, discreetly drawing his scent into her lungs. It was clean and fresh and just slightly musky; he was the best smelling man she’d ever come across, hands-down.

  “At least you’re not giving me a lecture about not having it taken care of sooner. You’d swear Corinne was the one getting her bones re-broken the way she carried on.”

  “Sometimes seeing someone you care for hurting is worse than feeling it yourself.” The deep tone of his voice, the depth of feeling, went past her auditory systems and well into her heart, making her sigh. Shane Callaghan had a way of doing that to her.

  She was falling hard and fast for him, she realized. She would have to be careful before she made a complete fool out of herself. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off. Heck, she was scaring herself a little with these powerful urges and feelings.

  “You’re right. I would have been worse if our places were reversed,” she agreed, then asked suddenly, “Are you hungry? You’ve been babysitting all night, cramming yourself into a sofa that was not designed for anyone over five-ten, and been an all-around good sport. The least I can do is make you breakfast. You strike me as a waffle kind of guy. Am I right?”

  Shane looked down at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I love waffles, and I’m quite skilled at making them, so it will be me doing the cooking this morning. This sofa is actually pretty comfortable, though I must say I’m enjoying it much more with you here than I did alone. And I was not babysitting, I was caring for someone I seem to have become especially fond of in a very short amount of time.”

  His blue eyes sparkled with intensity, the corners of his lips turned up in a challenging grin. A dark shadow crept over his jawline, that, when matched with his slightly mussed hair, gave him a roguish, bad boy look that had her core temperature shooting up at a record pace. All of her eloquence left her at that moment. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He was staring at her lips, which made her gaze drop to his. So full. So firm. So male. So close...

  As if reading her mind, Shane leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. A hint of cinnamon and mint teased her senses, mixed with something decadently rich and uniquely Shane. She’d never tasted anything like it, but found herself instantly addicted.

  Her initial shock quickly gave way to something much better. She softened beneath him in surrender, parting her lips at his tender insistence. He was a superb kisser; he knew exactly how much pressure to apply, where and when to use his wicked tongue, and how to make her forget everything else until her entire universe was reduced to the area within his arms.

  Minutes, hours, days later, Shane finally pulled away, breathing almost as heavily as she was. He rested his forehead upon hers. “What were we talking about?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

  Lacie blinked. Once. Twice. Her mind was a jumble of images, scents, and sensations. “I have no idea.”

  Eventually the rumbling in Lacie’s belly reminded them about breakfast. Shane was stubbornly adamant about making waffles, but was willing to allow Lacie to help. Lifting her easily, he placed her on the counter next to where he’d be. Her job, he informed her, was to tell him where everything was. She could, he told her, assist with those tasks requiring only one hand, but under his strict supervision.

  “Are you always this bossy?” she asked, amusement lacing her voice. She would allow him this moment of male dominance in her kitchen, but only because her lips were still tingling from his earlier possession. And because by taking the commanding role in making breakfast, he was freeing her to ogle him to her heart’s content.

  He did look good enough to eat, mouthwateringly tasty in his snug-fitting jeans and the untucked button-down in a shade of blue that accentuated his beautiful eyes. From the top of his glossy black hair to the bottoms of his - she stifled a moan - bare feet, the man looked confident and comfortable and positively lickable.

  Forget the waffles. She wanted to devour him.

  He smiled, an arrogant tilt to his lips that sent bolts of lust through her nether regions. He leaned in close enough for her to get hit with a fresh wave of that warm male scent that only inflamed her further, teasing her into a near frenzy. “Bossy? And here I thought I was the one making you breakfast. I am truly injured, Lacie.”

  She laughed, realizing just how lucky she was. How many women would give their right arm to have this sexy, caring, intelligent man in their kitchen making them breakfast? Lacie was just about to apologize when Shane grinned wider and added, “Now stop badgering me, woman, and tell me where your waffle iron is.”

  They just... clicked. Sipping coffee, making breakfast together, sharing little things – it was all done with an ease and comfort that belied their short time together, as if they had spent years learning each other instead of merely days. Being with Shane was so easy.

  “Mad waffle skills, huh?” Lacie said doubtfully as the misshapen item was presented to her with a flourish. Throughout the process she had managed to refrain from questioning his culinary skills, skirting the edge of what was acceptable teasing, afraid to injure his fragile male pride, but too tempting to resist entirely. It was playful banter, and he seemed to be enjoying it every bit as much as she was.

  “It may not look pretty, but it’ll be the best damn waffle you’ve ever had,” he said confidently. And the only reason it was not created in geometric perfection, he informed her, was because she had distracted him while he was pouring the batter. That part was true enough, and she refused to apologize for it.

  “Hmmmm.” She used her fork to break off a piece, swirled it around in a pool of locally produced maple syrup, and brought it to her lips slowly. It was hard to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head, it was that good. It melted in her mouth. Shane’s eyes followed her every movement intently, watching as she chewed and subsequently swallowed.

  “Well?” he asked, that smug grin tugging at his lips.

  “Jury’s still out,” she hedged, working off another bite sized portion. As with the first piece, she took her time, savoring it as long as possible. Shane remained unnaturally still, watching her with such intensity she could feel her skin warming beneath her loose cotton shirt, waiting for her to pay his skills proper homage.

  She continued to work her way through, one small bite at a time, refusing to be rushed. By the time the last piece was gone, she was sure Shane was going to ignite. She handed the plate back to him, daintily wiping her lips with the decorative paper napkin. She had to work very hard to contain her grin when she further ignored him and sipped her coffee. Shane continued to stand before her, arms now crossed, the hint of a smirk across those talented male lips, and one perfect brow arched above eyes that caused her heart to stutter.

  “Okay,” she breathed finally. “That was by far the best waffle I’ve ever had in my life.” Shane’s smirk widened into a full-fledged grin. “I could easily become addicted to these.”

  “Told you.” His eyes sparkled like living sapphires.

  “Yes, you did.” She licked her lips. “Can I have another one?”

  His gaze darkened, his voice lowered until it was purely sensual. “The first one was free. The next one’s going to cost you.”

  Lacie held back the whimper that threa
tened to escape and tightened her inner thigh muscles. “Mmm. What’s your price?”

  He leaned in closer, placing one arm on either side of her hips, daring her. “A kiss.”

  “I can do that.” She reached back, dipping her finger in the remains of the syrup and coating his lips. Then she proceeded to very slowly, very methodically, remove it. By the time she finished, his eyes were glowing, his muscles tight and straining.

  “How’s that?” she whispered.

  “That’ll do,” he rasped.

  Good Lord the man knew how to kiss! Any further thoughts of breakfast were lost as Lacie wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, spreading her knees and scooching forward. She needed to feel him against her, against one specific place in particular. His hands went to her waist, stroking back and down with sizzling electricity as he found her bottom and assisted her. A moan sounded deep in his throat; she echoed that sentiment with one of her own as she felt the hard proof of his interest exactly where she needed it. To know that he was feeling it, too, filled her with a sense of feminine power.

  Shane’s hands lazily explored the curves of her back and waist, stroking along her thighs several times but staying maddeningly away from where she ached. Lacie impatiently tried to work at the buttons of his shirt blindly; she needed to put her hands on the bare flesh of the warm, living marble that had so teased her aching breasts. Frustrated with the length of time it was taking and her fingers’ seeming inability to correctly unfasten a button, she simply grasped the shirt along the open edges and pulled, sending several buttons popping and bouncing along the floor.

  * * *

  Shane laughed softly into her mouth, more than a little turned on by her boldness.

  His large hands skimmed along her waist, reveling in the contraction of muscles beneath impossibly soft skin with each caress. They moved upward slowly, teasingly, until his thumbs brushed the curve of her breasts. Even through the material of her lightweight bra, the heat of her skin nearly burned him. Lacie moaned audibly then, her back arching into his touch, needing it, wanting it, begging for it.

  Shane obliged, cupping her breasts, loving the way they filled his hands. He kneaded them gently, stroking his thumb across her nipples, awed by their very pronounced response to his ministrations. Shane’s hard length throbbed with the newly discovered knowledge that his gentle, soft-spoken school teacher had been hiding a fierce, fiery passion, one that thrilled him beyond his wildest dreams.

  “Shane,” she moaned, eyes closed, head back. Hearing Lacie murmur his name with such need was like a hard pull on his cock. He fought for the self-control that was proving so elusive. He’d never had to fight so hard before, but then, his mind rationalized, he’d never been held by his croie before, either.

  The need to mark, to claim, to possess was almost impossible to ignore. At the rate they were going – and the way she was responding – he would not be able to resist much longer.

  A loud knock sounded at the door, breaking into their private world. Shane’s hands, filled with Lacie’s breasts, paused. Lacie didn’t seem to have heard the knock, protesting Shane’s sudden lack of movement by pushing into his hands with purpose, tugging at the base of his skull with the pads of her fingers, kissing the shadow along his jawline. He growled in approval, a low deep sound in his throat.

  The knock was repeated, along with a spoken warning. “Open up, Lacie. I know you’re in there.”

  The voice broke through the lusty fog and she stilled. Shane stiffened at the same time, his protective – and possessive – instincts roaring into overdrive. His natural impulse was to cover her body with his own and keep her as far away from the other man as possible. Davidson was a threat to Lacie, he felt it strongly, and he, like his brothers, had learned never to ignore what his gut told him.

  Her response only reaffirmed his instincts. She tensed; her eyes, dazed with desire only seconds earlier, went wide with a mixture of fear and dread before she shielded them.

  But why? Was it as Corinne said? Did Craig have the ability to manipulate Lacie so easily? It was hard to believe. Lacie might have a gentle demeanor, and was undoubtedly both kind and compassionate, but he had sensed a strong inner spirit in her as well. It was not something she advertised, but Shane had seen glimpses of it in the way she had managed a week with the pain of a broken hand, in the fiery passion that burst forth when he kissed her. Lacie was an intelligent woman with a quick wit that would certainly recognize any attempt to control her.

  Except that Craig Davidson wasn’t just anyone. Davidson was practically family, and family was very important to Lacie. He also knew, from their conversation in the car Friday night, that Lacie made excuses for Davidson, citing his wife’s untimely and tragic death, his terrible injuries, and her brother’s disappearance as rational excuses for his occasional irrational behavior.

  She was too caring of a person not to cut him some slack, but there was a limit. In Shane’s opinion, Davidson had passed that mark a long time ago, and it was time to do something about it. Things had drastically changed now. Shane was in her life, and he would see to it that Lacie would no longer be a dumping ground for Davidson’s questionable issues.

  * * *

  “Shall I kill him?” Shane said softly against her neck, punctuating the statement with one long, slow lick along her jugular vein. His voice was low, feral, and starkly male, calling to her on some base, primal level. She shivered, her nails curling into his shoulders, not knowing if he was kidding, not even knowing if she cared, if he could make her feel like this.

  “Lacie, if you don’t open this door in one minute I’m coming in.” Craig’s voice, somewhat muffled through the heavy steel door, was still loud and clear enough to be heard.

  Shane stilled as the words registered, pulling away enough to look at her in disbelief, taking all that delicious heat with him. “He has a key to your apartment?”

  “For emergencies,” she explained for the second time that weekend, her voice thick with the now-receding desire. It hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea when Craig suggested it, but Lacie wasn’t so sure anymore. The look on Shane’s face at her confession was even worse than the one on Corinne’s. Was it possible that they were right, and that she wasn’t looking at things sensibly?

  Shane backed away, his face unreadable as he shielded his emotions. Was he angry? Jealous? Disappointed? She couldn’t tell, and that bothered her. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but she didn’t want him to be any of those things. Well, maybe a bit of jealousy was flattering, but Shane had no reason to be jealous of Craig. After the way they’d just been pawing at each other, she would think that would be pretty clear.

  “Let me talk to him for a minute. I’m sure he just wants to make sure I’m okay.”

  Shane’s eyes didn’t leave her face; his hands did not relinquish their hold. “Please,” she pleaded, imagining Craig readying his key just outside the door, not wanting him to burst in and see her up on the counter or Shane with his shirt hanging open. Given their brief, heated exchange the day before, Craig would probably hit the roof.

  Eventually Craig was going to have to accept the fact that Lacie was involved with Shane, but it didn’t have to be this morning. She didn’t want to deal with his overzealous, overprotective tantrums at that moment. No, the best thing she could do was reassure Craig that she was just fine, send him home, and figure out a way to deal with everything else later.

  “Just give me a minute, okay?”

  Shane nodded, but his expression remained carefully neutral. Without another word, he stepped back. A chill settled over her; Lacie had to resist the urge to pull him right back to her.

  “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he said, kissing her nose before walking away, disappearing into her bedroom to give her some privacy. Judging by the way his eyes had gone cold and the too-even tone of his voice, he wasn’t happy about it, but she appreciated the fact that he trusted her enough to handle the situation. Bonus points for him
.

  Craig was inserting his key into the lock when Lacie made it to the door and swung it open. Without waiting to be invited in, Craig pushed right past her.

  “What the hell is going on, Lacie? Corinne commandeers your phone last night and refuses to let me talk to you. You don’t answer your door.” His eyes landed on her pink cast. “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a cast,” she said, though she thought that would have been obvious. She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly uncomfortable with the way Craig was looking at her. His eyes narrowed, his mouth set in a scowl, and if she looked really closely, she could see the tiny vein pulsing at his temple. She licked her lips self-consciously. Did her lips look as swollen and ravished as they felt?

  “I know that,” he said, irritated. “Why is it on your hand?”

  She shrugged, knowing he would not be satisfied until she told him. Best to just get it over with. “I had it x-rayed. Turns out I really did break it last week, and the bones were not fusing properly, so they had to re-break it and then cast it.” She blew out a breath. “They shot me up with some powerful pain killers, and I went to bed the moment we got home. Corinne was just looking out for me, Craig.”

  He looked around, his eyes zeroing on the two coffee mugs sitting on the counter. Then on the waffle iron, the bowl of batter, and the two place settings. Crap, thought Lacie. She was a grown woman, but Craig was making her feel as though she was a naughty teenager caught in a compromising position. She straightened her shoulders and met his icy glare.

  “Where is Corinne now?” he asked.

  “She left.”

  “When?”

  “Why the interrogation, Craig?” she huffed. “Does it really matter?” Lacie turned and started to head back toward the kitchen, already tired of the conversation and wishing she had never agreed to give Craig a key to her place. She looked longingly at the counter where Shane had been so wonderfully attentive only minutes earlier.