“No one can help me.” She didn’t say it like it upset her—more like it was a truth of her life that she’d come to terms with years ago. It made his chest ache. Carrigan took a long drink of her martini. “I’m almost thirty.”
He blinked. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Biology, my dear Watson. How in God’s name can I pop out half a dozen kids if I’m past the age of safely being able to do so.”
There was so much wrong with what she just said that he didn’t know where to start. So James just went with the first thing he thought of. “Do you want kids?”
She froze with her drink halfway to her mouth and slowly set it back down. “You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before.”
The raw pain in her voice made him want to comfort her, but that was one skill James had never learned. Maybe if his mother had lived…but there was no room in this world for what if and maybe. So he did the one thing that he knew how to do. The single thing guaranteed to distract her.
He kissed her.
Carrigan went rigid for half a second, but he waited, his lips on hers, and let her choose. That hesitation was all it took for her to melt, turning to fire in his arms. He wanted to haul her against him, to let this feeling consume him until none of the bullshit mattered anymore. Right now, in this moment, there was only her. They could be the last two people in the world for all he gave a fuck. Hell, part of him hoped they were. As her tongue stroked his, a small, treacherous thought wormed into his brain and took root.
With this woman by my side, I’d be content to let the rest of the world burn.
Chapter Nine
Yes, this, this is what I need. Carrigan twined her arms around James’s neck, trying to get closer. Every second he spent kissing her, the memory of Chauncy’s wormy lips on hers moved a little farther away. She pulled back enough to say, “Touch me.”
For a second, she thought he might tell her no, but then he shifted, lifting her into his lap and scooting closer to the wall. To the shadows. His big body dwarfed hers, his arms easily cradling her against his chest. The position was all wrong to ease the aching between her thighs, but it would do. For now.
She kissed him again¸ needing the escape it seemed only he could give her. He sank his hands into her hair, tipping her head back and devouring her mouth as if it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. She could feel him hard beneath her ass, and she rolled her hips, wishing this booth was somewhere more private.
He must have been thinking the same thing, because he rested his forehead against hers. “As much as I’m enjoying this, lovely, I’m not about to fuck you in this booth, and if we don’t stop, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
That didn’t sound like a bad thing, which just proved that she was out of her damn mind. She shivered, her hands compulsively clenching his hair. He closed his eyes and growled, so she did it again. “Carrigan—”
“Take me somewhere.” Anywhere, just as long as it meant she didn’t have to come back down from the contact high his mouth gave her. Reality could wait. Right now she wanted an escape more than she wanted anything else in this world.
Again, there was that hesitation, like he thought he should refuse her. She’d never taken James for a gentleman, but that was the feeling she got when he looked at her with those pale blue eyes that were like the hottest fire. He caught her chin in a painless, unforgiving grip. “I’ll give you what you want, what we both want—on one condition. You tell me what the fuck happened tonight.”
She didn’t want to. He’d chased the memory away, and she didn’t want to do anything to bring it back to the forefront of her mind. And definitely not to confess it to this man.
But who else could she tell? Teague? If he knew, it’d only make his guilt worse. Or he’d decide to put everything he’d worked so hard for in jeopardy by doing something unforgivable to Chauncy. Not unforgivable as far as she was concerned—the man deserved a good beating—but there were consequences. There were always consequences. And if she told Sloan…No, it wasn’t even an option. Her sister already looked like a woman with one foot in the grave. Carrigan refused to be the thing that pushed her over the edge.
James alone didn’t have a horse in this race. He might be too arrogant for his own good, but he was a Halloran. When it came right down to it, they’d always be on opposite sides of the line in the sand.
Not to mention the carrot he dangled in front of her was one she’d commit unmentionable sins to get. “Okay, fine.”