Page 7 of Naughty Irish Fate
Chapter Two
Bronwyn
Twice in one night?
Once hasneverhappened.Ever.
I stare up at him as he holds it in his palm, grinning at me. I flip it over as if he replaced my precious coin with something else. But, no, it’s my coin. I narrow a look at him as he laughs and folds my fingers over it.
“No tricks up my sleeve. Seems fate is just on my side tonight.” Despite myself, I crack a smile as I stare up at him, mystified.
“Best two out of three?” I wave the coin in the air and he laughs and shakes his head.
“No way. Come on. Take a walk with me. Tell me more stories.” We don’t move for a second though. Rooker presses into me, face in my neck, clutching my coin between us.
My feet nearly lift off the ground I clutch at his broad shoulders so tightly. His arm around my waist lifts me against him even more. Again, my thoughts twist filthy and hot. Him lifting me atop the bar top. Shoving at my skirt and finding the aching heat between my thighs.
My fingers thread in his hair and I clutch hard, sure I’m hurting him. He says nothing but his teeth sink into my neck. I whimper and he sucks gently, lifting me higher against him. Just as I start to swing my legs up around his hips, the jukebox blares a skipping tune.
“Holy hell. I do believe you need that old beast looked at. Come on, now. I won that toss fair and square.” I let him lead me to the door, hesitating briefly with a glance back at the empty pub. I untie my apron and toss it atop the bar, grab my keys, and follow him.
“Not sure there was a thing fair about it, Rooker.” I comment softly as I pull the door shut behind me not bothering to lock it.
It’s cool out for early March but the sea rarely lets Shore Ridge warm up. Salty sea air kicks up on the rocks just below the line of shops that dot the street. A narrow cobblestone street leads the way to the pier. All of it is in need of repair but during the fishing season, everything else becomes unimportant.
“What kind of stories do you want to know, Rook?” We walk close together and I find myself wishing he would take my hand. Weird. I am the furthest thing from romantic in this town.
“Any stories that star you, Wyn. Forgive me for being forward. Can’t help myself it seems.” I frown at his weird comment about being unable to help himself.
Until his large hand finds mine swinging between us. Lacing our fingers together, he draws me close to his side. Forcing me to look away as a ridiculous grin twists my face. Rooker chuckles beside me as if he feels as foolish as I do. But he keeps hold of my hand.
And I walk hand in hand to the pier with a stranger, telling him everything he wants to know about me. Because I know he has no intention on staying, I feel safe sharing everything. Rooker asks about the Pub, about growing up in Shore Ridge, and even about what I might rather be doing.
Before he asks it, I realize I never really thought about what else I might want to do. My entire life was just getting by. Making it out better than my mother had. Trying to make Paps proud of me.
“But do you want to do that forever, Wyn?” We reach the edge of the pier and we both slow down.
“Guess I never considered it. I like the Pub. Like the people who come in and expect me to be there. I was always expected to be there.” I bounce a shoulder and glance up at him.
In the silvery moon of the light, he is even more beautiful. Sandy hair flutters in the breeze. Short on the sides but a little unruly on top, I want to comb my hands through it. And, for the first time in forever, I do just what I want. I reach out, brushing my fingers through his mussed hair.
It’s silky smooth beneath my fingers and I can smell his shampoo. Spicy and clean. Rook lets out a sound and catches my wrist. Holding my eyes in the darkness, he twists his head. Eyes glowing at me he presses his lips to the delicate skin at my wrist.
“Shit.” I whisper and feel him smile against my skin.
“Mm, you might say that. Jesus you smell so good.” Dragging his lips down my arm, he touches his nose to my pulse and I find it almost impossible to breathe.
“Like a pub?” I frown and start to twist away. He refuses and yanks me forward.
Stumbling, I fall into his chest, my other hand coming out to press against his shoulder. Instead of pushing away though, I draw him closer. My breasts push against him and I almost moan as his delicious warmth surrounds me. Nipples pebbling beneath my sweater, I almost rub myself against him like a cat in heat.
“Not at all. Beer, a little, sure. More like soap and baby powder. Sweet, clean. Come here.” I tip my head back to be able to look into his eyes.
“I am... here.” I laugh softly even as I press closer against him.
“Now you are. Tell me more. Tell me everything.” Rooker insists as his hands slide to my backside, tugging me closer still.
Shaking my head, I suddenly panic. Pushing at his chest, I back away a few feet. Until I can breathe again. Rooker lets me go with a wounded look on his face. I flinch as my lungs fill with the sick smell of the waves crashing beneath us. I reach out towards the nearest post, clawing at it.
