THE CALLAHANS (A Mafia Romance): The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  You see? Only twenty-four hours and I was already looking for escape.

  I’d never felt like I fit in anywhere, so I’d never tried. Even with the Callahans—the snow white, Irish Callahans—I stuck out. My biological mother was a redhead like Pops, but my biological father was a bit of a mystery. I’d been told he was black and Pilipino, but I’d also been told he was black and Japanese. I didn’t know for sure because he apparently didn’t hang around long enough to get to know anyone, including my biological mother. So I stuck out among even the people who took me in and made me a part of their family.

  If I didn’t fit in, why should I try to stick around?

  I spun Amelia around and pulled her against me again, catching her just before she would have slammed into my chest. She gasped, but then she looked up at me and there was such amusement in her eyes that they seemed to dance. I could get lost in those eyes.

  I kissed the tip of her nose, then spun her around again. This time she laughed when I caught her quite effortlessly. Then I dipped her and we were both laughing.

  This was okay. I might be able to get used to this.

  We danced for a long while, then wandered the room, drinking as much champagne as I could grab off the passing trays, laughing at lame jokes and groaning at the cheesy ones. Amelia stayed at my side, her finger hooked in the waistband of my slacks as if she belonged there. I moved away a few times, but each time I could feel her watching me, waiting for me to come back. Expectation. That was what I couldn’t stand about relationships. The woman always had this expectation that I would act in a certain way and behave in ways that she never voiced but always assumed I’d understand. It was bullshit, someone expecting you to act in a certain way just because you’re in a relationship. I couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.

  My mother had always expected me to read her mind. If I didn’t, I got a beating. Not that I couldn’t handle it—the woman was so drunk most of the time that it didn’t really hurt. My mother was a complicated woman. She loved me—I never doubted that—but she hated me, too. There was something about the man who fathered me that she saw in me and couldn’t stand to look at. And she took it out on me in so many ways…it was almost a relief when she…but that’s another story.

  I didn’t want to be married because I didn’t want to be at the mercy of another woman. It was as simple as that.

  So when Amelia looked at me, expecting me to come back to her side, it made me want to run back to Boston and leave all this bullshit behind me. If not for my Pops’ and for the fact that she wouldn’t give me a divorce—even if I asked—I would have been gone on the first flight this morning.

  Like a good boy, I moved up behind her each time I was expected to. And I was rewarded by the feel of her tight, sexy body pressed back against mine. There were some benefits to this commitment thing.

  “It’s late,” she whispered to me at one point. “Shouldn’t we head upstairs?”

  I brushed my lips over her temple. “If that’s what you want.”

  Mickey, who’d been watching us closely all evening, came over.

  “Leaving?”

  I shrugged. “The missus is tired.”

  Mickey’s eyes flashed to Amelia, a strange light coming into them briefly, before he focused on me again. “Are you sticking around the hotel a while longer?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. Why?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the guests who were just beginning to get into this party. When he turned back, he leaned close and said, “Ian called this morning. He said something about the Italians causing trouble back in Boston. He didn’t go into details, but it didn’t sound great.”

  I frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  “I didn’t want to put a dark cloud over the festivities.”

  “Did you tell Ian about this?”

  Mickey shook his head quite emphatically. “Of course not. That’s your business.”

  I studied him a second, then held out my hand and offered him a strong shake.

  “Thanks, Mick.”

  I turned Amelia around and guided her with a hand on her back to the elevators. The second we were alone, she pulled away, sort of slumping against the back wall.

  “That was exhausting,” she sighed.

  I stood in front of the doors, my feet planted, and my thoughts back in Boston. The Italians. I should have known that things wouldn’t just settle down. It looked like the Italians had stopped getting whatever information it was they were getting that allowed them to hit us where it hurt the most, but I guess it was just a temporary reprieve. They would need me back there if things were only half as bad as they were the last time.

  “Who are the Italians?”

  I spun around and studied my new bride. “What?”

  She straightened, aware of the tension rolling off of me like waves. “I was just…I heard what Mickey said…”

  “There’s one thing you need to learn if you’re going to insist on being my wife.” I moved closer to her, pinning her against the wall with just the nearness of my body. “You don’t hear anything that’s said between me and my associates. Unless someone is addressing you personally, you don’t need to know about it. Understand?”

  She nodded, a blush rising over her cheeks. You’d think it would be annoying, seeing that blush every time I did or said something her innocent sensibilities weren’t prepared for. But it wasn’t. I found it sort of exciting, to be completely truthful.

  I ran my hand over her jaw, sliding my fingers slowly into her hair. Her eyes widened as I tugged her hair to pull her into the perfect position to capture her lips. I wasn’t gentle this time; I didn’t take my time or ask for entrance. This time I simply took what I wanted. I buried myself inside of her, urged her jaw open, tasted what I wanted to taste, and touched what I wanted to touch. She responded with almost the same amount of need that was suddenly bursting through me, her inexperience apparent in the awkward way she moved her jaw, but even that was sweet and exciting. I was quickly discovering that there were some benefits to being with an inexperienced girl.

  I wondered how she handled last night. Was I gentle? Or did I pass out before we got to the fun stuff?

  I think I would remember this if it’d happened last night. I mean…damn! This was hot!

  I slid one hand down over her jaw, across the side of her neck. Then further. My fingers brushed the hard tip of one nipple and felt the quick catch of breath as they brushed along her ribs. Then her hip was in my palm the perfect fit. I tugged her leg up and pulled her harder against me, wishing I’d gone with the shorter dress rather than this more elegant, down-to-the-ankle style. I wanted to touch flesh. I wanted to taste more than just the sweetness of her lips.

  But then the elevator door opened, so even if her dress had been shorter, the laughing group of late night gamblers waiting just outside the door would have been the same cold shower it was in that moment.

  I turned, tucking Amelia behind me.

  “Newlyweds,” I said, knowing that would explain it all.

  One of the men laughed, while another said, “Get a room!”

  “Already got one. Just couldn’t wait.”

  “Don’t blame you. She’s gorgeous!”

  I glanced back, a spark of anger growing in my chest. But they were already on the elevator and quickly disappearing behind the closing doors. Amelia pushed against my shoulder, encouraging me to continue down the corridor. We slipped through the double doors of my suite, and I drew her close to me again, stealing her lips even as she looked up at me, something she wanted to say caught on the tip of her tongue.

  She moaned, and I devoured it, pushing her back against the wall, my hand returning to that hip, sliding around to that beautiful, perfectly contoured ass. She pushed at my wrist and made me move my hand, but I couldn’t resist the need to go back, to feel that bit of perfection again. She moaned again, even as she responded to my kiss with as much heat as I knew I was exuding. Our ton
gues danced together, her jaw working against mine in perfect synchronization. Her hand was curled in my lapel, her grip hard, pulling me tighter. She might not want my hand on her ass, but she wanted me just the same.

  And when I let my lips slide down the curve of her jaw, the angles of her throat, she sighed, her fingers moving over the back of my head. She leaned her head back and gave me perfect access to the top of her beautiful breasts, to the creamy flesh that peeked out of the top of her gown. I nibbled a little, drew her skin into my mouth, and brought something like a little scream from her lips. I loved her responses, the sighs and the moans. The women I brought into my bed often made noises like that, but there was something about the sounds coming from between Amelia’s lips that felt more genuine.

  I wanted her. Really, desperately, wanted her. And that scared me a little.

  “Let’s go to bed,” I said, taking her hand even as I pressed my lips to hers again.

  “Kyle…if we’re going to get an annulment…”

  “Fuck the annulment.”

  She sighed against my mouth. She opened to me again and moaned as I touched a place on the roof of her mouth that seemed to have the power to make her press her hips tighter against me, making her do things with that gorgeous body that I doubt she’d ever done before. And she was already a pro at it, sending a fire rushing through my body.

  I tugged at her skirt, pulling it up one painful inch at a time. When my fingers brushed the bare skin of her thigh, fireworks seemed to explode inside my head. I pulled higher, slid my hands under the light material, searching for the bottom edge of her panties, that sexy spot that announced the nearness of the source of the ultimate pleasure. But, instead of touching silky panties, I found myself sliding my fingers over bare skin, barely brushing the silky flesh of outer lips.

  “Kyle!”

  She tried to push my hand away, but all that material from her skirt trapped me there. And I took advantage of it, pressing my palm to her ass, as a mixture of a groan and a laugh slipped from between my lips.

  “If I’d known you were going commando, I would have done this sooner!”

  “I only had the one pair, and they caused a line…”

  She blushed as the words slipped from between her lips. She wouldn’t look at me, her face turned to the side. I kissed her jaw and nibbled at the skin just below that first curve.

  “I like this,” I said in a low, deep whisper. “I like having access to you without having to fight your fancy underwear. I like knowing that just a little lift of your skirt and I could have what I want anywhere, any time.”

  She shook her head. “Please…”

  “You can pretend that you don’t like it, but I know you do.” I slid my fingers over her luscious cunt lips, dipping my fingers between them as a groan and a word of protest got tangled as they came from between her lips. “I can feel how much you want me.”

  “Please,” she whispered again. “We can’t. I can’t.”

  “We did last night, didn’t we?” I pulled back slightly so that I could see her face, still turned to the side, even as my fingers sought out more depths, more of her, more of the moistness that told a story she couldn’t hide. “You were quite naked in my bed this morning.”

  She opened her mouth, but then my finger found the swollen nib of her clit. She bit her lip so suddenly I briefly wondered if it was bleeding, then this long, deep moan slipped from her throat. I liked that reaction, and I liked the pleasure that was clearly dancing in her eyes before she closed them and the excited blush that rose over her cheeks. I pressed my finger harder against her clit, crushing it back against her pelvic bone, rolling it until she responded with a little roll of her hips.

  She was so wet my finger slipped off her clit. But it wasn’t so bad because it slipped down to her tight, little entrance, sliding deep inside of her with a minimal amount of effort on my part. She stiffened slightly, pressing her back tighter against the wall. I kissed her neck, loving the feel of her pounding pulse against my lips. And then I pulled my finger out of her and slid it against her clit again, catching it between two fingers and rolling it until she looked as though she might collapse right there, straight into my arms.

  “That’s good, isn’t it, baby?” I asked softly against her ear. “Has anyone ever made you come with just his fingers before?”

  Her blush deepened and I chuckled, dragging my lips over her throat again, moving down into the valley between her breasts, sliding my tongue between the firm tissue there. She tasted like salt and warmth, like a sunny day at the beach. I buried my face against her throat as I continued to play with her clit, feeling the tension grow inside of her, feeling the quick movement of her breath. I knew the moment she hit her orgasm because her entire body stiffened and she made the most beautiful sound, like the highest note of a perfectly tuned piano. I stilled my fingers and held her close as she rode the waves, then I lifted her into my arms and carried her into the bedroom as a proper groom should do.

  She turned away from me when I lay her on the bed, her face hidden in the pillows. I didn’t mind. We had all night to play this little game of cat and mouse. I slid her shoes off her feet before settling on the side of the bed, slipping my hands slowly over her legs as I worked my way back under her dress. She pulled her knees up, trying to protect herself from my invasion. But I just followed, stretching out behind her, pressing my face to her shoulder for a long second.

  “You are my wife. Isn’t this my right?”

  She didn’t answer. But the tension in her body grew, as though she thought that by stiffening every muscle in her body it would stop me from taking what I wanted. I kissed her neck, rested my hand on her hip, and stretched out behind her for a long moment, waiting for the tension to disappear. It didn’t.

  What the hell was going on here? She could take me when we were both drunk, but she couldn’t take me tonight when she was sober and I was…well, not sober. But not black out drunk, either.

  I started tugging at her skirt again, but the vibration of my phone against my hip pulled me away. I sat up and pulled the phone from my pocket.

  Ian.

  “What’s up, brother?”

  “We need you home, Kyle. I’m sorry, but the Italians are going to town on us and Pops needs everyone he can get. But with Sean MIA and Killian wrapped up with Stacy and the baby, it’s kind of just you and me, you know?”

  “Yeah, of course. But you realized Kevin’s just hanging around Pops’ house.”

  “Pops won’t bring Kevin into this, you know that. He wants Kevin to be an artist, or whatever it is he’s trying this week.” There was clear frustration in Ian’s voice as he spoke. But then his tone softened as he said, “But maybe that’s for the best. Things are really crazy right now and the fewer of us involved is probably better.”

  “Probably.” I glanced over my shoulder at Amelia. “I’ll fly out as soon as I can get myself together.”

  “I’ve already sent the jet. It should be waiting for you in less than an hour.”

  Then it was serious. Ian rarely sent the company jet for me unless I begged. He liked to have me beg for things.

  I disconnected the call and stood, grabbing my bag off the valet sitting in the corner.

  “Go change your clothes. We’re flying to Boston.”

  Amelia sat up slowly. “We?”

  I glanced back at her. “Yeah. Until we can arrange an annulment, you’re my wife, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Then you come home with me.” I turned to face her, crossing my arms over my chest. “Unless you’re prepared to go down to the courthouse the moment they open and file for a divorce.”

  She shook her head. “No divorce.”

  “Then get changed.”

  I started shoving clothes into my bag, but realized she hadn’t moved as I was almost finished.

  “What?”

  “I don’t have anything here to change into. Just that other dress…”

  I cursed
under my breath, amused that it brought another blush to her full cheeks.

  “Come on,” I said, grabbing her hand, “we’ll stop by your place so you can pack. Can’t have you meet the family wearing that.”

  She snatched up her shoes as I dragged her out of the room, her in one hand and my bag in the other. I glanced around to make sure I had everything, dropped the room key on the bar—Mickey could deal with that later—and headed out.

  This was going to be interesting. Imagine me coming home with a wife. Pops would shit bricks, and I could already see the I-told-you-so’s from Ian and Killian. Yeah. This was definitely going to be interesting.

  Chapter 5

  Amelia

  I could almost feel the derision coming from Kyle as I unlocked the flimsy door to my tiny efficiency apartment. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes scanned the place slowly, taking in the second-hand furniture and the lack of electronic equipment. I didn’t even have a television because it would have cost more than it was worth to hook it up for cable.

  I ducked into the bathroom and quickly slipped into a pair of jeans and a light t-shirt, tugging the bobby pins from my hair and replacing them with a simple elastic band as I pulled my hair into a ponytail. I was back to that girl who’d come here seeking a quick way to make a lot of money, the sad girl who never seemed to get ahead even with the generous tips waitressing two jobs provided. It was depressing.

  I shoved my little bit of makeup and my toiletries into a bag, then returned to the main part of the apartment to shove jeans and t-shirts, a few nice blouses, a pair of slacks, and my one good dress into a worn, pathetically used duffle bag. Again, Kyle didn’t say a word, but I could feel his judgment in the way he watched me move.

  “Just a week’s worth,” he said. “Anything more you might need, we’ll buy in Boston.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t take anything out of the bag. I wanted my things. I didn’t want to feel like I was dependent on him for more than I already was.