The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (14 page)

She reached for the button of his jeans. “That’s not what I want from you.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” He knocked her hand away and undid his pants. She had to shift to the side so he could get them off, but then he hauled her back to straddle him again. “I want to see you ride my cock. And when you come, you’re going to know that I’m the one you’re coming for. You understand, lovely? Only me.”

There was the possessive streak again, the one that had spooked her so badly before. She bit her lip, doing her damnedest to beat the panic back.
It’s not forever. I’m
promised to someone else and we both know it.
She slid against his cock, her conscious mind taking a backseat as the primal part of her roared to the fore. Tomorrow was another day. All that mattered was how good he made her feel right this second. She moved up, angling until his cock notched at her entrance.

James stopped her with a punishing grip on her hips, holding her in place. “As much as I want to sink into that tight pussy of yours without a fucking thing between us, it’s not happening. Condom. Now.”

She froze, irrational hurt slapping her in the face. “You think—”

“I think that you deserve better than that.” His grip lightened, but not enough for her to actually move. “I’m clean, but I don’t expect you to trust me, and I don’t expect you to take a risk that might result in a kid. I don’t want there to be a damn thing about this that you regret, lovely. Not a single thing.”

There was that feeling again, the one that fluttered in her chest—like panic, but not at the same time. She smothered it, though it took more effort this time. “Where?”

“Center console.”

Carrigan wasted no time twisting around to scramble for the latch. There were a handful of condoms in there, and she grabbed the first one she came into contact with. She tore it open and rolled the condom over his cock, trying to slow down when he cursed. But she wasn’t in a teasing mood. Not anymore. No, she needed it hard and fast and
now
.

He seemed to be feeling the same way, because he urged her up and then slammed her down on his cock, filling her completely. The breath left her lungs, her thoughts left her head, and there was nothing except James’s ice blue eyes on hers. He ran his hands up her sides, pausing to cup her breasts. He ran a single finger over the tattoo curving around her left one. “Ink?”

She shifted, biting back a moan, and then did it again. “Do you really want to talk about this right now?”

He hesitated, as if he really did want to talk about it, but finally shook his head. “Later.”

There wouldn’t be a later. She didn’t want to trade secrets. The things they’d talked about tonight were already enough to leave her feeling raw and vulnerable. She didn’t need more. So Carrigan leaned down and kissed him. He growled against her mouth and shifted them, laying her down on the backseat. The new position shoved him even deeper inside her and she moaned.
Yes. This. This is what I need
.

He knew it, too.

James hooked her leg over his arm and spread her wider, so he could grind against her clit. “This is what you want, lovely.” He pulled almost all the way out and thrust hard enough that she had to reach over her head with one hand to keep from sliding into the side of the car. He jerked her back down and did it again. “You want my cock, you want the way it feels when I fuck you.”

Yes. Oh God, yes
. But she clamped her mouth shut to keep the words inside. She wouldn’t give him more than she already had. “Stop. Talking. And. Fuck. Me.”

The bastard laughed. “Struck a nerve, didn’t I?” He dug a hand into her hair and held her close as he did exactly what she demanded. James fucked her like this was his heaven, like each stroke might be his last, like he’d never get enough. “And you damn well know how much I like to talk when I’m inside you.” He kept going, never breaking stride, though his voice had dropped an octave. “You make me crazy, lovely. You’re so wet and tight, and the noises coming out of your mouth make me never want to stop.”

She never wanted him to stop. She bit his shoulder. “Harder.”

“Hell, lovely, I’d give you damn near anything you wanted if you demand it in that voice.”

Take me away
. Once again, she managed to stop the words before they left her lips. That wasn’t what this thing with James was about. He was here to make her forget for a little while. Not forever. There was an expiration date on what they were doing, and she’d be a fool to forget that. So she gripped his hair and held him tight. “Make me come, James.”

He kept up that delicious rhythm that had her spiraling closer and closer to the edge with each thrust. “Next time you’ll be coming against my mouth. I’m going to fucking worship your pussy with my tongue until you’re begging.” He slammed into her. “You want that.”

It wasn’t a question, but it didn’t matter. She answered anyway. “Yes. Oh God,
yes
.” Her mind shattered into a million pieces, scattering to the wind, and she clung to him as he kept going until his rhythm faltered and he followed her over the edge with a curse.

She slowly came back to herself one sense at a time. The sound of his rough breathing. The intoxicating smell of sex and leather. The way he held her like she was something precious. Her heartbeat picked up.
I’ve just made a terrible mistake
.

*  *  *

Everything had changed.

James rolled over, taking Carrigan with him, so that she was sprawled across his chest—as much as a person could sprawl in this backseat. She’d gone tense, so he figured it was only a matter of time before she bolted. Though, considering where they were, she wasn’t going to get far. He stroked a hand down her hair. “Breathe, lovely.”

“I
am
breathing.” She started to move off him but stopped when she must have realized there was nowhere to go but the floorboard. “You’re not going to toss me into the trunk, are you?”

Guilt threatened to choke him, but he forced it down. “Don’t throw that in my face. We’re past it.”

“You might be. Maybe I’m not.” She reached around and came up with her dress. “Please take me home.”

She was lying. Just like it had before, this thing that flared between them scared the shit out of her. He’d seen it on her face the first time they had sex, which was why he’d demanded her name—so he could find her again. How things played out after that…yeah, it was shitty. But she
was
past it. She wouldn’t have called him tonight if she hadn’t finally accepted that he never would have let his father and brother hurt her. Which meant she was in panic mode again right now. He could force her to sit here and talk it out.

Or he could let her go.

Really, it wasn’t much of a dilemma. If he’d learned anything about Carrigan, it was that she’d go for a person’s throat if they backed her into a corner. People had been putting her in cages her entire life. He wasn’t about to be one of them.

So he sat up. “Okay.”

She froze in the middle of shimmying into her dress. “What?”

“I said okay. I’ll take you home. Just give me a second to get my pants.” He didn’t want tonight to end with her running from him, because he wasn’t done with Carrigan O’Malley. Not by a long shot. James pulled on his jeans and shoes and then pushed the front seat up so he could climb out into the night. He offered his hand to help her out, but she ignored it. So that was how it would be. Fine. He pushed the seat back into place and held the door so she could take the passenger seat. It was going to be a long ride back if the way she crossed her arms over her chest was any indication. He’d need the distraction of driving.

Once he got the Chevelle started and the windows defrosted, he headed back toward the city. He didn’t speak, and neither did she. James could actually feel her building up walls between them. Retreating. A part of him even understood. He’d had sex before. Hell, he’d gone out of his way to keep things at
just
sex in the past. It was simpler. His life didn’t lend itself to being able to build a healthy relationship—he wasn’t even sure if he was capable of it. Easier to keep things at a strictly physical level. That way both parties left satisfied, and the chance of someone getting hurt was virtually nonexistent.

That being said, this thing with Carrigan wasn’t just sex.

He’d known that four months ago, and it was only becoming clearer the more time he spent with her. He admired her fire. He liked that she never hesitated to get in his face and put him in his place if she thought he was out of line. He liked how nothing her family had done to date had broken her. Fuck, he just plain liked her.

He took the exit that would spit them out near Beacon Hill, and wound his way up to the block just down from her town house. “You want me to—?”

“This is good.” She already had the door open.

“Carrigan.” He waited for her to look back. “Next time you need to forget—or need anything, period—I’m here.”

She flinched like he’d raised a hand to her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How much time do you have before you need to make a decision?” He kept his tone low and even, though all he wanted to do was haul her ass back into the car and get the hell out of here—spend a week lost in each other and ignoring the call of the real world.

“A month. Less than that now.”

Not long enough. Fuck, he was beginning to think that twenty years with this woman wouldn’t be close to enough. But he’d take what he could get. “Every time you go on one of these dates, the noose is going to tighten around your neck. I can help you forget, lovely. You know it and I know it.” He didn’t wait for a response, needing to get this out before she bolted. “So when the pressure gets too much to handle—and it will—call me. I’ll be there. I promise.”

She hesitated, and then shut the car door and walked away. He waited until he saw her enter a brownstone down the block, and then he put the car in gear and drove away. She’d call. She might tell herself that she wouldn’t—she might even convince herself that she was through with him—but when her back was against the wall, she’d call him again.

He was sure of it.

James headed back into Southie, the upper-crust neighborhood that Carrigan lived in slowly replaced by smaller and smaller houses, each in worse repair than the next. Even the ones that obviously had owners who cared about upkeep showed decades of wear and tear. The O’Malleys and Hallorans might fight like dogs over the bone that was Boston, but they really came from different worlds. The outward evidence of it in the neighborhoods they lived in was just the beginning.

But none of that seemed to matter when he was with Carrigan.

He forced himself to set aside the feel-good sensation being around Carrigan brought him. There was nothing he wanted more than to dwell on how amazing she’d felt squeezing his cock, and how much he wanted to get inside her again at the soonest available opportunity. But he couldn’t afford to be any more distracted right now than he already was.

And he was seriously fucking distracted.

But Ricky was waiting, and so was the real world.

Chapter Eleven

C
arrigan spent the next week keeping busy and avoiding all the things she didn’t want to think about. The list was getting kind of ridiculous. She’d had a hell of a time keeping a straight face during Mass on Sunday while the priest went on about original sin. Her mind kept going back to the feeling of James’s hands on her skin and his voice in her ear. If that was a sin, she had no interest in being a saint.

She knew she should get the rest of the dates out of the way, but Monday slipped by while she wasn’t paying attention, and she spent nearly all of Tuesday with Callie, hiding out from Aileen and her last-second wedding plans. And then she blinked and it was Friday and she’d managed to get through a six whole days without picking up the phone and dialing James.

He had a lot of nerve saying he’d be there for her. She’d have to be a fool to trust him. It was more than their shared history¸ though that should be more than reason enough. She didn’t trust anyone beyond family—and she didn’t even trust her family half the time. People had a nasty tendency to put themselves first when she needed them most.

The only person she could trust to take care of her was
her
.

Which meant it was time to stop dragging her heels and get through these dates. Her fate wasn’t going to magically change in the next few weeks, and the longer she waited for the initial dates, the less time she’d have to actually make a decision. Holding off wasn’t going to hurt anyone but her, so she wasn’t going to wait any longer.

She moved on to the next two names on her list. Kellen O’Neill. Dmitri Romanov. An hour of Internet searching later, she had little to no information on either of them. Kellen O’Neill was a pretty common name, and the only Dmitri Romanov she could get a bead on was some Russian prince who may or may not be fictional. Probably not her guy.

Resigning herself to not knowing a damn thing about these men before she met them, she dialed the number next to Kellen’s name. Ten minutes later she had a date for dinner that evening. He hadn’t even hesitated. It was hard to tell on the phone, but he sounded young and eager. Neither one was a turn-on, but it might mean he was easy to manipulate. She filed that away in the back of her mind and dialed the next number.