Page 6 of Naughty Irish Fate
Rooker wraps both arms around me, one hand drifting to cup my backside. I think I moan a little when he gives a squeeze. We barely move, but we circle the empty floor. His fresh salty leather scent and warmth wraps me up tight. I don’t care about my rules or gold coins for a long time.
The song plays at least twice, reminding me I need to fix that damn jukebox. But tonight, I am thankful it plays just a few songs. When a new song starts, we break apart slightly. I tip my head back, imagining a perfect movie scene where the music fades and he kisses me into the next scene.
No kiss comes. Words come instead.
“Flip that coin for me again, Wyn.” Rooker’s voice is rough and hot against my ear. His thick arms go tighter as I push gently away.
“What are we flipping for now?” Looking up at him, I wonder the last time I someone made me feel something. Anything at all, really.
After my saddest story, one whisky, and two dances, Rooker has me feeling all kinds of thing. Foolish and risky. Needy and hungry. Impatient and interested. None of the above are good for me, I know. But I take the bait as he cocks his head, eyes pleading softly.
“Let me take you for a walk. It’s late but I don’t want to go yet. Let’s walk to the pier.” Smiling a little because it’s not at all what I expected him to ask, I cock my head too.
“What is the wager, exactly, Rook?” Lowering his head, he wets his lips as he watches me, eyes smoldering into mine.
“You call it and if I lose, I will walk out. And I won’t come back.” I wince as his words sting me. I almost shove the coin back into my pocket.
“Why so serious suddenly, Rook?” I press into him teasingly. I don’t know much about womanly wiles, but his arms tighten as my tits press against his firm chest and I feel the heaviness he presses against me in return.
“Because I want to see if fate gets it right. And I don’t want to let you go yet and maybe I should.” Both his hands hook around my neck as he lowers his head, forehead against mine.
His full mouth is almost touching mine and I ache suddenly. I want to swipe my tongue out and taste him. I know he’d taste a bit like oranges and the whisky we drank. But I want to know what else he’d taste like. I let out a sound and he growls, his fingers tangling roughly in my hair.
“Flip it for me, beautiful baby. Tell me what it says.” I shake my head, closing my eyes tight.
“Doesn’t count if you make the wager and I call it. Call it.” I flip it and he says one word tightly in the air between us.
“Heads.” I catch it in my palm and slap it into his as he holds it up for me.
We both make a sound when we see it.Heads
