It seems as though he will say something else, but he falls silent as I frown in confusion.
“Then why won’t you fuck me?” I bleat. God, I sound pathetic. I can’t help it. I need to know what is going on.
Seamus’s lips mash into a thin line as he guides me out of the shower, toweling us down and leading me back to the bed. Oh no. He’s not getting out of this that easily. I want answers. Or a good fucking. He can decide which he is going to provide.
I dig my feet in and stand here, arms crossed over my chest, as he blows out a breath, taking a seat on the end of the bed in the dark bedroom, looking up at me.
“I hurt you, Tig.”
I start in surprise. That is… not what I thought he was going to say. I’m more confused now than I was before. Why the fuck wouldSeamus Fitzpatrickgive a damn if he hurt me?
“I hurt you so badly that you wanted Niall’s help, not mine.”
There is a pained thread of anguish in his voice, and suddenly, it all makes sense. My heart clenches at the realization. He’s punishing himself. This isn’t about me at all.
Seamus feels bad and thinks he needs to pay for hurting me, which is his way of punishing himself. By getting me off but giving himself blue balls.
Oh my God. This is what happens when a man who has never experienced feeling guilty before in his life doesn’t know how to handle those emotions.
I move to kneel in front of him again, but he stops me, picking me up and throwing me onto the bed, burying his face between my thighs.
It’s on the tip of my lips to tell him to stop, but his tongue starts lashing my clit, and two fingers spear into me, finger fucking me hard.
Maybe we can discuss his hands-off attitude after he gets me off. I’m not a martyr, and I’mnota saint. Hell, I’m not even a social worker anymore.
My back bows, arching off the bed as I call out his name when I shatter around his mouth and fingers. He must sense my plan, the sneaky bastard, because, unlike the last eight nights, he doesn’t stop, bringing me to orgasm twice more until I’m practically falling asleep on him.
Only then does he kiss his way up my body, tugging me into his arms and pressing his lips against my temple, cuddling me close until I fall asleep.
SEAMUS
“You know, Niall is really fucking good at this hunting shit. Maybe you should ask him to be here. It’s not like he’s looking after Tiggy at the moment.”
I shoot Liam a lethal glare, Ronan obligingly leaning over and smacking the lad upside his head.
“Hey!” he whines. “I was just making an observation.”
“A fucking unwarranted one,” I growl. Liam falls into a sullen silence, but at least he has shut the fuck up.
He’s not wrong. Niall is better at all this hunting shite. He would be here in a heartbeat if I called him. But I’m a stubborn bastard, and I will do this without his help. It fucking stung when Tig wanted his help, refusing even to let me touch her.
“Connor has his lads from the cottage do some hacking off the books,” Ronan informs me, nodding at the seedy Roxbury motel we are standing across the road from. “They’re sure he’s holed up in there. We just need the room number, and we can end the fecking kiddy fiddler.”
Liam nods in agreement, spinning his flick knife between his fingers. For all his grumbling about wanting to call Niall in to end this, Liam can’t wait to get his knife into this cunt. Join the club, lad.
My phone rings in my pocket as we watch a john walk a prostitute in. I work it out of my trousers, my eyes still glued to the front of the motel, swiping to answer and holding it up to my ear.
“Yes?”
“I’ve heard from my dirty cop.”
Paddy. Finally, he’s come through. I was beginning to think he hadn’t actually reached out to his cop as I asked. I was ready to slam my fist into my best mate’s face, which isn’t an urge I feel more than once a year or so. I’ve been feeling it more and more frequently these days. I’m getting fed up with his attitude to Tig.
“What does he say?”
Paddy sighs. That doesn’t sound promising. “The allegations have been made against this fucker, but he’s in the wind.”
I’m fucking aware of that. I’ve been hunting this prick for two weeks. He might be a terrible excuse for a human being, but he’s a fairly efficient cockroach. I grunt, waiting for Paddy to get to the fucking point of this phone call. He’s hesitant to say it, which means he knows I’m not going to like his information, whatever it is.