First and Only (Callaghan Brothers #2)

“What would you like?” Ian asked, picking up the phone, as she felt his entire body tense beneath her. “Chinese, Indian, Italian, - ”


The shutdown was cold, complete. Like someone had just flipped a switch. Suddenly, Lexi wasn’t feeling quite so brave anymore. She couldn’t do it. Without Ian’s willing cooperation, this was not going to work.

“Never mind,” Lexi said, dropping her arms and pulling away. She wouldn’t be able to eat anything now anyway with the way her stomach was doing flips. The intense swing of emotions – from pulsing lust and hunger and need to humiliation and regret and despair – was brutal, and once again she cursed her hormones and her totally messed-up body chemistry.

She started shutting down, her natural defenses assuming control. It was strange, really, how the numbness mixed in with the pain, a necessary dilution to keep her functioning. Visions of how Ian had once looked at her shattered in her own mind, like pictures someone had thrown against the wall. Oh, when she thought of the things he had done to her, the places he had taken her... But that felt like an entirely different lifetime, and in a way, it was. That was when Ian still thought of her as a healthy, vibrant, passionate woman.

She wondered what he saw her as now, then decided it would probably hurt too much to know. The bottom line: Ian wasn’t interested. He kept his distance. Cringed when she got near him. How could she tell him what the doctor said now? How could she ask him to do any of those things when he couldn’t even stand her touch?

“Lex, what’s wrong?” Ian asked carefully.

“You know what?” she said, backing away slowly, her arms wrapped defensively in front of her. “I - I’m really not hungry.” she answered dully. “And I’m very tired, it’s been a long day. I’m just going to check on Patrick and then go to bed.”

“Lex –“

“Goodnight, Ian. Thanks for taking care of Patrick today. I’ll take it from here.”

Lexi forced herself to keep a steady pace as she walked back toward her room, refusing to look at the pillow and blanket neatly tucked and folded along the sofa. Then she closed the door and locked it. She wouldn’t be needing Ian’s help any more tonight.

*

Ian felt a shiver run through him. That wasn’t Lexi’s voice. It held no warmth, no affection whatsoever. None of the love it normally did, and he didn’t like it. Not at all.

Fuck. Ian wished he was on active duty at that moment, because he really wanted to kill something. He was losing his mind trying to say and do the right thing, to not put any pressure on her, to not take advantage of her. His body was going to explode if he didn’t get inside her soon. And still he was screwing this up royally. How the hell was he supposed to deal with this?

He simply wasn’t good at this kind of thing. Taking out the enemy? He was on it. Cracking a system? Nobody better. Taking care of his woman? Big, fat suck-fest on a stick.

It took a while, but Ian finally came to a conclusion and began a deliberate march across the suite. To hell with what he was supposed to do. He was going to do what he had to do. He reached out, twisted the knob, and – found the bedroom door locked.

Well, that was a clear message there, wasn’t it? It was the first time she’d done that, and it only strengthened his belief that he was doing the right thing. Things were getting way out of control, the very thing he was hoping to avoid. Within seconds, the lock was disabled and he was inside, poised to duck as he half-expected a solid object to come flying his way.

Nothing did. She wasn’t even in the room. The flat screen still droned on ESPN at a low murmur. Patrick lay sleeping soundly in his crib, though Ian could see that Lexi must have picked him up. The slightest tint of bronze was on his head where she had pressed her lips to him.

God, she had looked so beautiful standing there in the kitchen. Her hair was shining and full, her skin radiant. And, oh, did she smell good. So good that he’d forgotten himself and gotten too close. His chest ached, his arms burned with the need to hold her.

He barely heard it over the soft, muted sound of running water, as if... He listened closer, all doubt fleeing. It was the sound of someone crying. Into a towel by the muffled nature of it.

“Lex, open the door,” he commanded, his voice holding the edge of the panic he felt. The door was locked; he raised his fist and pounded the side of it against the door. “Jesus, Lex. Open the goddamn door.”

He was just about to break the thing down when he heard the soft click and she opened it a few inches. Huge eyes, rimmed in red, her dark liner smudged, looked up at him and his heart broke. Because those once-glowing amber eyes were cold. Dead.

After a brief hesitation, the door opened a little wider. “Lex, I –“

“One of us needs to leave.”