“Yes, you can.” He caught her moan with his mouth. “Come for me, Callie.”
Hearing her name on his lips like that—almost worshipful and yet so damn possessive—sent her hurtling into oblivion. She clutched his shoulders and cried out, her hips bucking. She was vaguely aware of his fingers digging into her hips as he followed her over the edge, and then she slumped down, careful to roll onto the bed instead of his chest.
Teague immediately tucked her against him, his legs tangling with hers, as if he couldn’t stand the new distance any more than she could. “Damn, angel.”
Her laugh was a little hoarse. “I couldn’t agree more.” She had expected to feel the peace she’d come to associate with orgasms connected with Teague, but it was slow in appearing this time. Instead, the realization that she truly cared about this man had rooted itself deep in her being. She kissed him, fear threatening to ruin the moment. She remembered all too well how it had been when Ronan died. It might be a different type of feeling that Teague induced, but the threat of loss was equally devastating.
She held him tighter. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” It didn’t make the smallest bit of sense for her to have such strong feelings for this man after such a short time, but she couldn’t deny it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to try.
There were worse things in the world than beginning to fall in love with her future husband.
He kissed her forehead. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“Says the man who looks like a human punching bag.”
Against all reason, he laughed. “Fair point. Fine—nothing else is going to happen to me.”
“You can’t promise that.”
He tensed, his hand stilling where it had been running through her hair. “I won’t lie and say I can, but I’ll do everything in my power to see our wedding day. I said that before, and I meant it.” His hand resumed its movement, soothing her despite her worries. “I have a plan.”
“That sounds detailed and well-thought-out.”
His laugh rumbled against her cheek. “I’m going to find who killed Brendan.”
Her heart stopped beating and her breath stilled in her lungs. Callie opened her eyes, a strange buzzing in her ears as she stared at the off-white wall next to the bed. Teague was looking for Brendan’s killer. Her fingers curled, instinctively withdrawing, but she made herself relax against him again.
“James can’t guarantee anything—naturally—but it’s the best bet to call Victor’s vendetta off. If he’s trying for peace, then my family can’t attack without looking like they made the first move. They lose the moral high ground and potentially their Sheridan support.”
The words finally penetrated the numb feeling threatening to suck her under. “You make it sound like the O’Malleys wanted this war.”
“I’m not so sure they didn’t.”
He sounded so grim, she risked raising her head to meet his eyes. “Surely not.”
“Angel, I say this because we’re going to be running the Sheridan empire before too long, and because I care about you—don’t ever underestimate either my father or Aiden.” He said his brother’s name like a curse. “They’ll do whatever they think necessary to bring more power under our control, and to hell with the potential consequences.”
It was obvious he’d recently been disillusioned on that front, or the bitterness would have faded by now. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Guilt flared, bringing with it the horrible mix of fear and panic. Teague was looking for Brendan’s killer—for her. What would he do if he realized he’d just made love to the very person he intended to turn over in his attempt to stop this war? Would he drag her from the bedroom and drive straight there?
Oh God, this is my worst nightmare come to life.
“Angel? Callie, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” The response was so automatic, it was out before she’d fully registered the question.
And, damn it, he knew it. He frowned, searching her face. “You’re lying.”
She had to put a stop to this conversation, sooner rather than later. Teague wasn’t stupid. The longer they spoke, the greater the chance she’d slip up and say something to help him connect the dots. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Callie moved to kiss him, but his grip tightened in her hair, keeping her scant inches from making contact.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
She could actually see the peaceful oasis they’d created crumbling around them. “I’d rather not talk about it.”