He tilted his head up and pinned her with a stare that brooked no argument as he fastened the bandage. “I’m not kidding around, Maggie. Get dressed.”
“Neither am I. I am not going to the hospital. Now stop overreacting and let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Michael felt like a wire strung so tightly it was in danger of snapping. The feeling was so alien to him that it was difficult to get control of it. Clearly the woman had no sense of perspective whatsoever.
“Overreacting?! Maggie, you put a fucking ax blade into your leg!”
She winced at his words, at the authority that rang through his tone. He was a man used to being obeyed. Clearly, she was not a woman accustomed to being told what to do. Her eyes narrowed, her chin lifted defiantly.
“You’ll not be getting me into any hospital, is that clear?” The faintest hint of an accent colored her words, a shadowy echo that resulted from growing up with her Ireland-born grandmother.
“Maggie - ”
He saw real fire in her eyes then, which took no small amount of courage. He towered over her, his expression as fierce as it got, every muscle tensed. In contrast, Maggie seemed to shrink before him, all but for her eyes, which held absolute conviction.
“Don’t Maggie me, Michael Callaghan. I will not be bullied by the likes of you. Accept that I am a grown woman capable of making my own decisions.”
“When you start acting like a grown woman instead of a stubborn child I might be more inclined to do just that.” His lips thinned, his eyes practically glowed. He leveled a gaze at her that would have most men looking away and snapping to their orders. But Maggie met his intense stare with her own, her green eyes luminous. She clasped her hands together in her lap, but not before he saw them tremble.
The face-off continued for a full minute before Maggie spoke again. In a softer voice, but with no less determination, she said, “I am not going, Michael, and that’s final. I’d like you to stay. Eat with me. Make love to me again.” She took a deep, steadying breath for her next words, which were spoken even more softly. “But if you can’t accept that, then you should probably leave now, before this goes any further.”
A war raged within him. His medically-trained, logical side said she needed more care than he could give her here in her home. His heart balked at doing anything that would put distance between them.
It made no sense to him, this aversion Maggie seemed to have toward hospitals. He was a doctor, and she didn’t seem to mind him. He tried to look deeper, tried to understand. She’d been just as adamant about not going to the ER the night she fell. She had quietly refused to take any of the meds he’d left for her. The intensity of her feelings on this went way beyond typical anxiety, especially in an age when medical care and modern pharmaceuticals were so advanced and readily available.
Yet her eyes were worried, pleading. She wanted him to stay, but she was not going to back down. If he continued to push her on this, it would drive a wedge between them, and the damage could be irreparable. If he didn’t and her leg got worse, he wouldn’t forgive himself because he had known better and could have helped her.
It was a hell of a choice - force the issue and risk losing her or respect her wishes and go against his medical instincts, which, so far, had never been wrong.
“Damn it, Maggie,” he said blowing out a breath, running one hand through his already-messed hair. “I’m worried about you.” That was putting it mildly. The intensity of his feelings – the powerful need he had to care for her, protect her – was so strong. But hell, he’d already told her he was falling in love with her. If he tried to explain this compulsion, obsession – whatever it was – to care for her she might be totally spooked and end up kicking his ass out anyway.
Her face softened just a little and she reached out to touch his face. “I love that you care for me, Michael, and I understand that you are a doctor and that my behavior makes no sense to you at all. But it is my decision, and I need you to decide whether or not you can accept that.”
“Can you explain it to me, Maggie? Can you help me understand why you have such an aversion to things like stitches and X-rays and shots?”
“Maybe,” she said carefully. “When you are of a mind to listen. But this is about a lot more than a little cut on my leg.” Michael was about to point out that it was a hell of a lot more than that, but thought better of it when he saw the seriousness of her expression. “It’s about whether or not you see me as one of your patients, or as the woman who is falling in love with you, too.”
His heart stuttered. He blinked. For a few moments he forgot to breathe. She’d said it. She’d admitted to falling in love with him. Everything else could wait. He was suddenly on his knees, kissing her as if his life depended on it.
“Does this mean you’ll stay?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes slightly unfocused.
“I’ll stay,” he said, his voice somewhat rough. “But I want you to promise me that if this leg doesn’t look any better tomorrow you will let me take you to the hospital.”
“Michael –“
“Maggie, you have to meet me halfway on this, sweetheart. We’ll do this your way for now, but only because it looks like you did an excellent job treating that wound. But if it gets worse or shows any signs of infection, we do things my way. I might be falling in love with you, but I will not sit idly by and watch you hurt yourself – I care far too much to allow that to happen. And whether you like it or not, I do know more about injuries and treatments than you do.”
He held her face in his hands and prayed she would be reasonable about this. “Do you think you can accept that?”
She bit her bottom lip, her eyes swirling again until finally, Maggie nodded. “I do.”
Those two words, coming out of her mouth while she was looking at him, had the oddest effect. His mind filled with pictures of Maggie in a flowing white gown, looking up into his eyes with so much love it made his heart feel as though it would burst from his chest. Maybe it was all the talk and planning for his brother’s wedding, but the thought of marrying Maggie made everything just click into place.
It took him a moment or two to find his voice, and when he did, there just didn’t seem to be any words. So he kissed her instead.
“This is incredible,” Maggie said between bites. “Where on earth did you get this?” It pleased Michael to see her eating, even if it was only a little as she sampled from the several small containers he’d brought.
“Lexi. She’s been cooking up a storm all week. I think she’s a little anxious about the wedding.”
“Ah, a woman after my own heart,” Maggie said.
A sudden idea crossed his mind. “You know, as good as this is, I bet it would taste even better with some of your homegrown ingredients. Would you mind if I took some back to Lexi? She’s always looking for healthy, organic things to put into her creations.”
“No, I don’t mind. Take whatever you want. Lord knows I have more than I’ll ever use.”
“Great. Why don’t you try to eat a little more while I go down and select a few things?”
“It’s wonderful,” she said a little too quickly. “It really is, but I don’t think I can.”
Michael frowned. Something seemed... off. Perhaps he was just feeling especially paranoid, but he didn’t think so. “Maggie, do you always eat so little?”
“No,” she admitted. “I just haven’t been all that hungry lately.” She gave him a sly smile. “I think it’s all the sex. You have me feeling so satisfied all the time I just don’t seem to have quite the same need for food.”
Michael couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He loved satisfying her needs. But deep inside, something was bothering him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it, though.
“I’m flattered. But I need you to keep your strength up, because I’ve got plans for you, sweetheart.” He winked and gave her a smile filled with wicked promise. “And I’d hate to have to withhold sex just to get you to eat.”
“You wouldn’t!” A combination of mock and genuine horror clouded her facial features.
“I would if it meant losing all those luscious curves I love sinking myself into.”
She blushed as Michael pulled her into his arms, letting his hands roam down over her behind. “I’m serious, Maggie. I can’t help it. I’m worried about you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Maggie let her arms snake up around his neck. The truth was she was becoming a little concerned herself. The dull headache persisted and she was having trouble focusing sometimes; her depth perception seemed especially affected. It was why she’d had the accident with the axe, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. He would have her admitted within the hour.
It would pass, she kept telling herself. After all, she had taken a nasty fall. It was only natural to suffer some lingering effects. And it wasn’t keeping her from doing anything. It was more annoying than anything else, really. Like a tiny pebble in her shoe.
Unfortunately, Michael was too perceptive. He sensed something, she knew he did. It was in the way she’d catch him watching her intently, or the discreet way he’d let his fingers pause in his caresses.
Or the way he was looking at her right now.
“Maggie, are you sure there’s not something you should tell me?”
“You worry too much.”
“Where you are concerned, I’m not certain I worry enough.”
Her shoulders stiffened slightly at the insinuation that she needed a keeper. “And yet somehow I managed to make it to this point all by myself.”
“Maggie, I didn’t mean –“
“I know what you meant,” she exhaled. “Now go on down and pick out some things while I try to be a good little girl and finish my plate.”
His lips thinned, but thankfully, he did. Maggie quickly scraped the remains of her dinner into George’s bowl. By the time he returned from the basement a short time later with several baskets of various canned and dried items, Maggie already had everything cleaned up. She was waiting for him in the living room. The lights were off, and she was in the process of lighting the scented candles that suddenly seemed to adorn nearly every available surface.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
“Ambiance.”
“Ambiance. Hmmm. What exactly did you have in mind?”
Maggie felt her cheeks burn hot. This had been much easier when she’d envisioned the scene in her mind. “I want to try something.”
“I’m intrigued.”
She cleared her throat lightly, her cheeks burning now. “I want to pleasure you.”
He smiled indulgently. “Sweetheart, you do that all the time.”
“No,” she said, clasping her hands together to hide her sudden case of nerves. Fantasizing about bringing him to his knees with pleasure was one thing; actually pulling it off was something else entirely. She was already bungling this royally. How had she thought she could do this? “I mean, um, orally.”
Michael went still; the smile faded from his face, but hunger blazed in his eyes. “You don’t have to do that, Maggie.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her face against his chest. “I know. But I really want to, Michael. I want to give you the same kind of pleasure you give me. I just ... don’t know how.”
She tilted her head and looked up into his face, her eyes big and pleading. “I mean, theoretically, I know the basics of course, but I want to know what you like. Please, Michael. Teach me.”
* * *
She pushed lightly against his chest in silent demand. Before he knew what was happening, she was unfastening his jeans. He hissed when he felt her hands against his skin, coaxing the pants down over his hips. His erection sprang forth, as hard and thick as when he had first arrived, as she continued to push his jeans slowly down toward the floor. She tapped his lower leg lightly until he lifted first one foot, then the other, free. Maggie pushed the jeans to the side, and went to her knees.
She took him in one hand, then two, exploring the length of him. Gentle, curious half-strokes as she let her fingertips experience the feel of him. “So warm and silky,” she murmured, more to herself than him. “And yet... so... hard.”
She drew a circle beneath the broad head, traced along the veins, as if committing every inch to her tactile memory.
Michael watched in awe as she fondled him, resisting the urge to buck into her hands. He had to be patient, had to savor every possible moment. This was one of his secret fantasies - to have a woman learn on him. To teach her everything that drove him insane, brought him to the very edge. Could she possibly have known this? Or was he just the luckiest son of a bitch in the universe?
One hand caressed down the length, fingering him along the base before gently cupping him further below. Michael sucked in a breath. One thing was for certain – if she started this, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to stop if she changed her mind. It might just kill him.
“Maggie.” His voice was rough, raw. “Are you sure?”
She tore her eyes away from his package and looked up. “Very sure. Unless you don’t want me to.”
He groaned in response. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked, one hand encircling his shaft, moving up and down with feather-light strokes. The other held his balls, rolling them lightly from pinky to index finger and back again.
“No,” he managed. “Please don’t stop.” Of their own accord, his hands buried themselves in her hair; it ran like silk through his fingers.
She pushed him backwards until he felt the sofa behind the back of his knees. “Sit down, Michael,” she whispered in soft tones. “Sit down and let me discover how to pleasure you.”
As if he was capable of denying her. Michael did as she asked, leaning back. Maggie positioned herself between his legs, pressing his thighs open, exposing him to her. She began stroking and fingering him again.
“Is this right?” She looked up into his face expectantly.
“Perfect,” he answered. She smiled and licked her lips.
He held his breath as she leaned in closer, close enough that he could feel her hot, moist breath on him. Her hands never stopped moving, a gentle teasing rhythm, as she studied him from all angles.
“Where shall I start?” she whispered, licking her lips. “The tip,” he bit out.
“Hmmm,” she hummed, pressing her lips against the head softly in a chaste kiss. The muscles in his leg tensed and bunched as he forced himself to remain still. He didn’t want to do anything that might scare her away, because he already knew he wanted her to do this again and again.
She kissed all around the tip first, then the top. Michael nearly passed out when she pulled back slightly and licked her lips again, giving a little breathy exclamation of delight when she tasted the tiny drop of pre-cum she’d already managed to draw from him. She licked the tip, then paused, tasting him.
“Mmmmm,” she hummed softly. “So this is what you taste like.”
He thought he might just lose his mind.
Maggie held him loosely with one hand, the other still working him as she kissed her way down the length of him. Her lips were wet; every now and then he would feel her tongue coming out to moisten them. She took her time, her lips and tongue retracing the paths her fingers had taken earlier, leaving no small part of him untouched, untasted.
She reached the base, and her tongue dipped lower. One hand pushed back lightly on his cock, giving her mouth full access to the area below. Half-lidded eyes looked up at him, questioning, seeking his approval.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Fuck yes.”
Her tongue came out again and she licked along his seam, easy, curious strokes up, then down. Michael’s hand covered hers, tightening her grip, guiding her up and down. She opened her mouth wide and took one side of him in her mouth, rolling it over her tongue, savoring it. Then she repeated the process upon the other. Her unengaged hand had come down; her thumb pressed lightly, making little circles on the s
kin just below.
Michael had never felt anything like it. It was insane. It was beautiful. And the best part? She was loving every minute of it.
“Damn, Maggie. Suck my cock, please.” His voice was strained from the tight controls he’d placed on himself. But if she didn’t take him in her mouth soon he was going to lose them all.
He felt her smile against him, taking great pleasure in his response to her ministrations. Maggie released his balls from her mouth, giving them each one last long, loving lick. Immediately her hand replaced it, keeping him warm. He loved the way she held him, took care of him. It was incredibly arousing to be constantly fondled and sucked at the same time while she was working him. Clearly the woman had natural, intuitive skills.
She rose up on her knees. He could feel the rock-hard tips of her nipples through the flannel. He wanted her naked, wanted to feel her bare skin against the insides of his thighs, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her touch for even the few seconds it would take to pull the shirt over her head. Instead, he grabbed the shirt and wrenched it apart, sending buttons flying across the room.
Her hand was still around him, firmer now, more confident. Maggie was a quick learner. In no time at all the tip was glistening again. Michael groaned when he saw the hungry smile on her face as she spotted it.
All at once, her mouth descended upon him. She sucked him tentatively, letting her tongue swirl around him.
“Ah, baby,” he gasped. “That’s it. Just like that, just like that.” She suckled him for a while, experimenting with hard pulls and tender strokes of her tongue, monitoring his response by the quickness of his ragged breaths and the way he rippled beneath her.
“More,” he pleaded, pushing down on her head as his hips rocked. Her hand dropped down to the base and she took more of him, her head bobbing in perfect rhythm with his thrusts.
It was too good, too fucking good, watching himself disappear in her sweet mouth, over and over again. Her tongue was wicked, swirling; she pressed the underside against him, mimicking the sensation of being all the way inside her.
House Calls: Callaghan Brothers, Book 3 Page 11