Page 21 of Naughty Irish Fate
“Wynnie.” Warm as the sun shining overhead, his rusty brogue seems faraway. But it’s real. Not from my memories of last night.
Giving in to the smile that transforms my face, I twist towards the sound.
Looking as if he belongs right here on the pier, Rooker is rugged in tattered jeans and a tight Henley top. His boots thud on the ancient planks as he takes a few steps towards me. Hesitant. Almost as if he thinks better of it. I am sure we both do, honestly.
I take a step or two forward, too. Stopping just a few feet from him, I breathe deep. Fill my lungs with the salty sea air and him. I want to press closer. Into that space against his chest that I swear is where I belong.
Before I can, he lets out a sound that burns need between my legs. His thick hands slip over my hips to cup my backside. I moan against his chest once he brings me against him. His fingers dig into my skin but I welcome the pressure. Reminds me I am alive and that he makes me feel things I never felt before.
“Fate laughs at us. Tried to keep away, beautiful baby. Until I saw you out here again. Thought I could walk away and let you be. I can’t, Wynnie. I fucking can’t.” Tears sting my eyes so I press my face into his firm chest and take a calming breath.
After watching my mother fall apart for a man who could not give her a single promise, I swore I would not be her. I would not be weak. Would not fall for a man who looked at me long enough to make me feel special. Yet, here I am.
Falling for a man who looks at me. Touches me. Speaks to me as if I am unquestionably special.
A man who could without a doubt make me fall apart.
“Talk to me, Wyn.” Shaking my head, I press my face into his shirt, kiss where his heart thuds beneath it and push away.
“Came to think. Never used to be able to come out here. Took a long time after my mother,” His eyes go soft as they watch me and I look away, unable to bear that look of pity, “Just thinking about life. Best get back to work, sailor. Don’t let me stop you.” For just a moment I think he might listen. Think he might walk away. And, for even less time, I hope he does. Because I don’t want to fall apart.
Rooker does not walk away from me.
Moving in like he is so familiar with me—and oddly I feel like we know each other more than three days makes possible—he reaches for me. Draws me back, his hand digging into the little pocket on my dress. Holding my gaze, he wiggles the coin between us.
“Call it. I walk away right now with just memories.” I bite back a smile because I love that he lets us share this special thing.
“If you call it?” I tease back because there is no way—with my heart on the line—fate could do me wrong. Just no way.
“I get you for another day.” Dangerous. Rooker Leary is a dangerous man. I am realizing this way too late.
“Heads.” I don’t look away from his eyes as he flips it. I want it to be tails too badly.
“Tails, beautiful baby,” Heat blooms through my chest, between my legs, “Unless you need best two out of three?” Rooker presses close, voice rusty and thick as his tongue traces his bottom lip.
“No. No. Called tails. Looks like you get me for another day.” I barely get the shaking words out before his mouth is on mine.
Rooker brings me against his chest and his tongue is sweet and minty in my mouth. I swoon so fucking hard; I think I kick a leg up. Didn’t know that shit was legit. I loop my arms around his thick shoulders and lift off my toes to kiss him back.
Panting as we break apart, he rubs the coin on my tit, scraping it slowly over my nipple, and then tucks it safely in my pocket. I’d like him to rub something else but think the pier in the middle of the day is an inappropriate spot to ask.
“One more day.” His green eyes shine in the sun, crinkling as he gives me one of his all over smiles. Jesus the man is beautiful.
Taking my hand like a proper gentleman, we make the rounds of the pier. Rooker even sits with me at the hot dog stand and we laugh together about what exactly is in the junk we eat.
As we walk past shops lining the long pier, Rooker is never out of reach. Holding my hand, his large palm at the small of my back, his pinkie twisting with mine. It’s as if he doesn’t want to break the connection for even a moment.
“Said you were thinking before I found you today. Tell me about what.” Rooker presses gently as we pause at the end of the pier, looking out over the frothy waters.
“Thinking about what you asked me. About wanting to run the pub. I never really planned to although I never hadotherplans. After my Paps died, I think I did it for him. To hold on to some part of him. Now, I know I don’t need a place to hold on to him.” I shrug a shoulder and twist to watch him, wondering about his past. About his present. About his future, even.
And so, I ask. As we make the rounds of the pier and down towards the docs further out, I ask all the questions. The ones you ask when you don’t have a time limit with someone.
Rooker tells me about growing up in Belfast—which explains the very slight brogue I hear when he curses and when he gets sexy on me—and about losing his father. He softens when he talks about his brother. No doubtthisRooker could make me fall completely apart.
“Hyde wants me to settle down the way he has. Maybe I will eventually. Never considered it,” Twisting to look at me, his eyes go even softer as his hand tightens around mine, “I don’t want you to know me as that guy. Fuck, this is trouble.Youare fucking trouble, beautiful baby.” I bow my head to hide my grin because I like that he is so affected too.
“Yeah, heard that before.” We reach the docks where the fishing boats flood the bay.
