Page 27 of Of Magic and Rum
My body naturally settles against him behind me.
“And considering you’re not pulling away—” his nose brushes my nape and his lips feather my skin “—you either don’t know how to read it or want an excuse to have my hands on you.”
And here I am, thinking about it. I’m imagining kissing him—trulykissing him. I fantasize about how my hands would feel bunched in those long chocolate locks as his callused fingers scrape sensually across my skin.
“Anne,” Mary bellows from the front of the ship.
I snap to attention, accidentally striking Jack in the head with my bottle.
“Ow,” Jack mumbles, wincing at me but smiling.
“Sorry, I?—”
“Anne fucking Bonny,” Mary yells with one hand cupped around her mouth. “And you too, Captain. Get your arses over here.”
Jack rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Something to know about Mary? It isn’t wise to keep her waiting.”
“Noted.” Turning around, I pause when Jack fans his palms and steps back.
“I don’t need you threatening any more of myappendages.”
After scooting past him, I tug his shirt sleeve with a gleaming smile. “You’re learning.”
“I am always studious regarding women.” Jack bows with a flourish.
Rolling my eyes, I brush past, fighting the urge to steal another glance at him.
When we reach the group, most have finished both bottles of rum and are singing and swaying to the music. Aranck watches from afar, not participating but standing guard with his arms folded. Squid still resides barefoot in the crow’s nest, bouncing to the music.
Mary punches Jack’s arm. “You fuck her yet?”
I choke on my spit and wipe the back of my hand over my mouth.
“Such a delicate flower you are, Mary.” Jack pinches Mary’s cheek. “And no, because someone yelled at us to come over here. Didn’t they?”
Mary snorts and laughs. “Oh, shit. I cock-blocked ya, didn’t I?”
Jack says nothing and only offers her a sardonic grin.
“No, you didn’t. Any amount of extra time would’ve made no difference whatsoever.” I flick my hand in the air.
There’s no convincing, not even myself, of this statement.
Jack closes the gap between us, intrigue and mirth dancing in his gaze. “Do you have any idea what challenge you’ve started?”
I move an inch closer and crane my neck back to look him in the eye. “If it’s anything like your swordplay, it should be over quick.”
Jack’s lips form a slow, broad smile.
Mary and several of the men hoot with laughter. Jack and I are still staring each other down as Red pats Jack on the chest while Mary jostles me. If ever I can be thankful mortal alcohol does nothing to my inhibitions, it’s right now, in this moment. But I also can’t blame Jack’s leering gazes or words on inebriation either, because he’s only had maybe two or three sips of grog. The realization makes a flutter form in my chest.
“Where in Ireland are you from, Anne?” Glog asks, still munching on cheese. “That’s the accent, right? Irish?”
Jack crosses his arms and fiddles with his rings, waiting for me to answer.
Without looking away from Jack, I answer, “Near Cork.”
“Cork.” Glog snaps his fingers. “I should’ve known that.”
