By His Vow: Chapter 62

I watch Kian as he smirks at Lorelei, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

Pain-in-the-ass, stubborn, know-it-all woman.

And he’s not wrong.

Tatum can be a lot to handle. But the two of them together…

Not many men stand a chance. Hell knows that many weaker than us would probably be eaten alive. Pretty sure more than a few have.

These women know what they want, and they aren’t afraid to ask for it.

It’s equally sexy as it is terrifying.

I know all too well that Kian likes a challenge just as much as I do. But I think he’s barking up the wrong tree if he thinks Lorelei will play the kinds of games that are spinning around his head right now. And not just because she’s seeing someone.

Looks-wise, she might be exactly his type. But she has way more personality, sass, and intelligence than his usual women. Something tells me that she’d run rings around him and he wouldn’t even see it coming.

When the server passes by, I order the girls another cocktail each as well as a scotch for me and Kian, and more wings.

“So, have you had a good day at work?” Kian naively asks Lorelei.

Tatum and I might still have a long way to go to truly get to know each other and those who are important in our lives, but I do know that Lorelei hates her job with a passion and that asking her about it is probably on the same level as asking about her menstrual cycle. Off fucking limits.

Lorelei stares Kian dead in the eyes before flatly suggesting, “Now that you’ve delivered your brother to my best friend, there is no need for you to stay.”

“Oh, burn.” I laugh, earning myself a hard stare from both of them.

“He does struggle traveling across the city alone,” Kian mocks.

“Not my fault I’m a magnet for all the hot women and you’re not.”

“Give me strength,” Tatum mutters. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She pushes out her chair and stands, successfully removing my hand from her thigh, before she leans over. “And don’t even think about following me,” she hisses before Lorelei announces that she’s joining her.

“Women are weird,” Kian mutters once they’re out of hearing distance.

“You can’t call every woman who doesn’t fall for your charm weird. It just means they have taste.”

“Fuck off. I haven’t even tried to hit on her,” he argues. “Some of us can abide by the rules, you know.”

“The rules?” I ask as he dives into the plate the server delivers, immediately devouring a wing and covering himself in sauce, not unlike what he used to do as a kid. Fucking animal.

“Yeah. You know, don’t fuck your boy’s sister,” he says, raising a brow and then shooting a look in the direction Tatum disappeared.

“Oh, because I chose to go there.”

“Don’t see you arguing about it.”

“Would you?” I ask, immediately regretting the question when a salacious smile curls at his lips. “Don’t fucking answer that.”

“Anyway, as I was saying. Your boy’s little sister is off-limits, as is your sister-in-law’s bestie. Couldn’t even go there if I wanted to, man.”

“Right,” I mutter around a wing. “Because you’ve always followed the rules.”

“Mother fucking Teresa sitting right here, and you know it.”

I shake my head, choosing to give the wings more attention than my moronic brother.

“Maybe Lorelei had a point. Why did you feel the need to follow me here?”

He smirks. “Hot girls. Scotch. Wings. Where else would I be on a Friday night?”

“Trying to pull a woman you stand a chance with?”

He throws the bones in his hand at me before reaching for another.

“Why have we never been here before? These are insane.”

“You know, Mom was right all those years ago. It is vital to always have a packet of baby wipes when you’re around.”

I eat a handful more wings while Kian devours a farmful of chickens before Tatum and Lorelei reappear, ruining the possibility of following my wife to the bathroom again like the last time she was on a night out with her friend.

I smirk. Good times.

“Jesus,” Lorelei mutters the second she lays eyes on my brother. “I didn’t realize they let animals in here. You know what these are for, right?” she asks, thrusting a stack of napkins at him.

He looks up before throwing more bones on the now wingless plate and grinning at her with sauce smeared around his mouth and covering his teeth.

“And girls actually want to go here?” Lorelei asks, wagging her finger in Kian’s direction with her top lip peeled back.

“You really should take more time to appreciate who you’re sitting with, babe.”

“Oh no you didn’t,” Lorelei sasses, much to Tatum’s amusement. “I am no one’s babe. And I am certainly not yours.”

“Sit down and drink your cocktail,” Kian mutters, unamused and unfazed by her attitude.

Lorelei might not follow his orders, but Tatum does.

I lean over as she practically chugs her cocktail.

“Don’t get wasted, baby. I have plans for you tonight.”

She shoots me a look and electric bolts shoot straight to my dick, although I’m not sure if the look is less desire and more “I will end you with nothing more than a chicken bone if you don’t shut the fuck up.” To be fair, I’m happy with either.

I just want to spend some time with her. I’ve missed her this week, but as much as I’ve wanted to get home at night to hang out with her, work and Miles needed me.

We always knew this week was going to be a shitshow, but it was worse than we could have predicted. And next week is going to be even worse as we begin to roll out our changes.

And it’s not just Warner Group stealing time away from my new wife. I might have stepped up to stand beside Miles, but that doesn’t mean that my role at Callahan Enterprises has become any less demanding.

I’m being pulled in a million different directions right now when, deep down, all I want to do is go home and fall into bed with my wife, remind myself why all this stress is worth it.

I thought I was all about the business growth and our future. I mean, I wasn’t wrong, our arrangement is about our future—but I never thought it would be our future. As in, mine and Tatum’s, not Callahan Enterprises’.

I stare at my wife as she chats to Lorelei, appreciating her beauty while being totally oblivious to it.

The things I said to Miles yesterday come back to haunt me.

I know what I said was true. In order for her to find her place here, the place she truly belongs, he’s going to need to let her go. She’ll never find her way back, on her own terms, if she never leaves.

But as true as those words might be, they’re also fucking terrifying.

Just a few weeks ago, the thought of her leaving, of turning her back on Chicago, wouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest, but in such a short time, she’s wormed her way under my skin. And suddenly, I can’t imagine my life without her in it.

I’ve no idea where that leaves us. Deep down, I know what she wants, and it isn’t to be here.

I could demand she makes different choices, push her down the route I think is right for her, but it’s the fastest way to lose her.

If I’m going to play this game, then I need to think outside the box. I need to control the play from a distance.

When I said my vows last weekend, I meant them.

For better or worse, Tatum Callahan is mine. I just need her to figure that out, and preferably sooner rather than later.

“Whoa,” I gasp, catching Tatum before her knees buckle beneath her and she tumbles to the floor. “I’ve got you,” I say, swinging her legs up into my arms to carry her into my—our—apartment.

“I can walk,” she snaps, although, with the way she slurs her words, it’s not quite as cutting as I think she was going for.

“Why would you want to when you don’t have to?”

Her body tenses as if she’s about to fight me, to wriggle until I have no choice but to put her back down and watch as she attempts to navigate our apartment looking like Bambi on ice.

But then she changes her mind and she relaxes against me again, her face nuzzling into my neck.

“Why do you always smell so good?” she asks absently.

“Because I want you to sniff me and then rip my clothes from my body so you can get more of me.”

Just the thought of watching her slender fingers working their way down my shirt and then impatiently tugging at my waistband makes my cock swell.

“Hmm, I do like you with no clothes on. You’re almost bearable when you’re naked. You’ve got a very nice cock for such an asshole.”

I laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As if that big head of yours would let you take it any other way.”

I walk us through the living room, past the pile of unopened wedding gifts that are still waiting for us to go through them.

Honestly, I thought she’d have unleashed on them the first chance she got. But like many other things I’ve discovered about Tatum Callahan, she’s surprised me.

With my focus on much more important things than the crystal glasses I’m sure someone has bought us, I turn away from the gifts and carry my wife up the stairs as she impatiently starts working on my shirt.

“Feeling horny, baby?” I ask, my voice rough with desire.

Her hand pushes inside my half-unbuttoned shirt and grazes my stomach. My abs jump at her contact and my cock continues to harden.

“Just remembering the night before our wedding,” she confesses. “I can’t remember which bits were real and which bits were a dream.”

“Baby, all of it was too good to be a dream,” I deadpan.

“I’m not so sure,” she taunts. “You might need to show me exactly how you did it so I can see if you come close.”

“Now that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

Once we’re in our bedroom, I walk her over to the couch and then lower her to her feet.

Her hair is a mess, and her makeup is smeared after a long day at the office and an evening drinking.

“What are you doing?” she asks, blinking up at me with confusion washing through her expression.

“Giving you the full experience.”

Tugging her purse from her shoulder, I throw it across the room before pushing her jacket from her shoulders and then spinning her around to pull the zipper of her dress down.

Slowly, I push it from her shoulders and let it pool around her heels.

To keep it authentic, she needs to take them off, which is a damn fucking shame. Hooking my fingers under her bra, I unhook it before pulling it from her arms. She groans as I release her heavy breasts, and my hands twitch to reach for them. But I hold strong.

Keeping her back to me, I shrug out of my jacket and then pull my shirt over my head before tugging it over her body, covering her up.

“Kick your shoes off, baby, and then lie on the couch. Get comfortable.”

She instantly does as she’s told, and if that doesn’t get my dick impossibly hard, I don’t know what does.

“Where are you going?” she asks in a panic when I take a step back.

“I won’t be long. Relax, baby. You’ll get what you need, I promise.”

And with those words lingering in the air, I march into the bathroom and take a longer shower than I’d like to while I know she’s out there waiting for me.

It’ll be fucking worth it, though.

Those moments on the couch in their suite have played out on repeat in my head ever since. Along with the ones we added on our wedding night, of course.