by Kim Deister
“About what exactly? Whether or not I’m telling tales?”
“No, it’s obvious you believe what you’re saying. But believing your own words and having them be true are two different things,” I explained. I could see the confusion cloud his eyes so I paused to gather my thoughts. "Look, people will believe a lot of things that turn out not to be true. Sometimes they've been fooled into it or sometimes it's just easier. And sometimes it's just in their head."
There was a long silence as he processed my words. “You think I’m banjaxed, don’t you?”
Now I was the confused one. Banjaxed? “I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means that you think I’m daft.”
“I have to think it’s a possibility,” I answered begrudgingly. It wasn't easy to look someone in the face and tell them that you think they may be certifiable. “But I don’t get the crazy vibe from you either, although it would be a hell of a lot easier if I did.”
“Easier? Why would that be easier?”
“Because it’s better than the alternatives."
"Which are?"
"That I've lost my mind and I'm hallucinating this. Or that it's actually true and my world as I know it just changed."
“I assure you, Cassidy, you’re neither daft nor hallucinating,” he said. His voice was comforting, wrapping around me with magic of its own. But when he spoke again, the seriousness of his voice sent chills down my spine. “However, I can’t deny your world has changed and that it will probably continue to change. And I don’t want to lie to you, but I don’t think Siofra ever intended or expected this curse to be broken. I don’t know that she’ll be graceful about its end.”
“Awesome. And that takes the drama to a whole new level,” I grumbled. I wasn’t sure how much more of this my brain could handle. “Do you suppose we could save that particular conversation for later? My brain is a tad befuddled at the moment.”
He grinned, but he didn’t push it. I studied him for a long time and he looked back at me patiently. Every instinct in me told me that I could trust him, but my instincts had been wrong before. But I could hear my grandmother in my head as clearly as if she were sitting on the couch lecturing me. She told me all the time that I thought too much and felt too little. She said I was too practical, that just because I couldn’t see something didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Every chance she got, she lectured me about my cynicism and trust issues, telling me I had let Luke steal away my magic.
These conversations always came with a magical threat. If I didn’t change my ways, she’d cast a spell on me. Considering her magical history, that was a terrifying idea. She didn’t want to hear any of my arguments when I tried to tell her that trust had to be earned. She dismissed my “psychobabble,” informing me that trust was a choice. As I sat looking at Finn, I thought that maybe she was on to something. So, I chose.
“If you’re right and your curse is broken, you do realize that this is going to crush Kyra’s heart, don’t you? She’s lost her beloved frog.” While a valid concern, it probably wasn’t the most important issue at hand, but it was what occurred to me.
“Well, we’ll get her a new one. Or as many as she wants. But I don’t think she’ll be as upset as you think. You’re not the only one who has a habit of talking to frogs, you know,” he teased while my face flamed. “She loves you and she talks about you a lot. She just wants you to be happy. There’s even been talk of a plan involving you and her English teacher.”
That one left me momentarily speechless. “Great. A new recruit to Operation Marry Cassidy,” I mumbled. “But that does explain a lot. Ever since they studied folk lore in her English class, she's been all about fairy tales and happy endings. There have been a lot of hints about Mr. Weston, about how he looks like a good Prince Charming. And here I thought she was on my side,” I ended with a huff, more peeved than I should be.
“Well, as a pirate, I’m no Prince Charming. I hope she won’t be too disappointed. I hope you aren’t too disappointed.”
“I’m sure she can handle it,” I said dryly. “It’s too early to answer for myself.”
“Does this mean you believe me?”
I can’t believe I’m about to say this… “I guess it does,” I said slowly. Just saying the words, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.
A huge grin spread across his face. It would disarm an icier woman than me. "Well, then, Prince Charming or not, I hope that you will give me the chance to try to be just that.”
He crossed the room in just a few steps and stopped in front of me, reaching for my hands. For a second, I hesitated, but I heard Grandma Fi’s admonishing voice in my head again, telling me not to be an idiot. So, I took a deep breath and put my hands in his, letting him pull me to my feet. I had barely a second to admire his dimples up close when he pulled me against him. Without a second thought, I wrapped my arms around his neck and slid my fingers into his hair. If I’m going to end up in a padded cell, I might as well enjoy the trip.
For a long, breathless moment, we stared into each other’s eyes, bright green into blue. As I pulled his head down and our lips met for that magical first kiss, there was only one thought racing through my head. I kissed a frog, and I liked it…
“Liked it” would be a massive understatement. That would be like saying that I sort of liked chocolate. The moment his lips touched mine, I forgot everything else. The heat of his lips on mine, the feel of his arms around me… that was all that mattered. Electricity shot through us both and we pulled back to stare at each other in shock for just a moment before we sank into each other once again.
But, eventually, no matter how amazing a kisser Finn was, reality began to seep back into my befuddled mind and that reality had nothing to do with the weirdness of the situation. Instead, all I could think about was that none of this was how I envisioned a hot seduction scene. Never had pirates, curses, and magic entered into it. Nor could I ignore another, more disturbing reality.
I wasn't wearing anything even close to sexy. When I got dressed this afternoon, sexy time was the furthest thing from my mind. But now, knowing where this was going? The vain part of me wanted to pull myself out of his arms and run upstairs to my bedroom. I had some sexy bits buried in one of my dresser drawers, even though they were covered in dust, as little as I had needed them over the last year or so. But running away would ruin the moment, so I tried very hard to forget.
It helped that my not-so-sexy apparel didn’t seem to matter to Finn in the least. I didn’t think he even noticed what I was wearing. The rubber band that had held my hair in place had long since disappeared. One of his hands tangled in it, tugging my head back so he could rain a line of kisses along my throat. Every nerve in my body came alive and I shivered under his lips. His throaty groan pushed me over the edge and a soft moan escaped me as I leaned into him.
My hands moved under the hem of his shirt, sliding along the skin just above his jeans. His skin burned under my fingers. Before I could move them higher, he reached behind his back and pulled my hands away. He spun me around until my back pressed against his muscled chest. Only the arm he wrapped around my waist kept me from melting to the floor. He brushed my hair aside and his lips grazed the skin on the back of my neck, skimming from my hairline to the top of my shirt. A shiver shot down my spine and my entire body spasmed. If I hadn’t already been lost in him, I would have been the moment his lips touched that sensitive skin.
I tried to turn back around, but his arm was a hot band of iron around me. I was powerless to do anything more than be his captive. The feel of his lips on my neck drove me to the edge. He had barely touched me and I was already to the point of losing control. His tongue traced a line along the back of my neck and a shiver shook me from head to toe. When his teeth nipped at my skin, I felt my knees start to buckle. An animal need like nothing I’d ever felt before took me over and I fought against his hold to break free from him.
This time, he let me and I turned to face him. Sh
yness had never been a problem for me, but I had never been quite as aggressive as I was then. I pushed myself against him, both of my hands gripping his face as I kissed him. I wrapped one leg around his and stood on my toes to push myself against his hardness. He gave as good as he got and that made me even crazier as we fought each other for control. Finally, a deep, primal growl rumbled in his throat and he grabbed my ass hard in his strong hands. He lifted me off my feet and staggered backwards, pinning himself against the wall. My knees slammed hard against the wall, but I barely noticed. I slid down his body, eliciting another throaty rumble as I moved along the bulge in his jeans. The noises he made drove me wild and made me even more desperate to feel his skin under my hands, to feel his hands on me.
His hands were on my waist, lifting my tank. His hands skimmed along my sides and my skin tingled under his touch. I felt like I was fully alive for the first time. My hands only left his face when he tugged my shirt over my head. As he pulled off his own, I took advantage and ran my hands over his heated skin.
Even when his upper body was covered, it was obvious the man did more in his spare time than sit on a couch and drink beer. My mouth watered at the sight of all those ripped muscles. I had known he had ink, but I didn't know how much there was until his shirt was no more than a memory. Tattoos covered his arms from his wrists to his shoulders, spreading across his chest and stomach before disappearing beneath his jeans. More ink dipped out of sight over his shoulders. It was sexy as hell and I was mesmerized.
He stood still with his back against the wall and allowed my fingers to trace the inked designs that covered his skin. There were so many that, at first glance, it was impossible to figure out where one ended and another began. They wove in and out of each other, so many that it could take me days to find each hidden piece of art. A visual history of his unbelievable life inked onto his skin. Only a few bare places peeked through the ink.
There were so many, but one caught my eye. An older, faded tattoo of a masted ship sailed across the left side of his chest. One of its sails was emblazoned with a skull and crossed swords. Another showed the same coat of arms inked on his bicep.
“Is that your family crest? And the ship? Is she yours?” I traced my fingers over the designs as I asked about them and he shivered under my touch.
“The O’Malley crest, yes. And that is indeed my ship. My first tattoo. I got it in a seedy little shop on the docks in Amsterdam after too much whiskey. It wasn't long after I won her, a handful of months before my seventeenth birthday.”
Mind blown. I was touching a tattoo that was more than three hundred years old. It seemed like such a little thing, a tattoo, but it was one of those things that drove it home for me. It was the reminder of how different his life had been from mine, even without magic and curses.
“You captained your own ship when you were sixteen?” I hadn’t really done the math when he told me his story, but now it was mind-blowing.
"I won her when I was still sixteen, but we didn't sail until I was a few weeks past seventeen. Repairs took a long time in those days."
Sixteen, seventeen. It didn't matter. When I was that age, nothing mattered but Luke, my friends, and the next school dance. The biggest thing I had to worry about back then was getting into college. I couldn’t imagine the kind of life Finn must have led. Even as we talked, I realized something that shocked me. Somewhere along the line, trusting him had become more than a conscious choice. I really did believe Finn’s story. While my head wrapped around that life-changing realization, Finn continued.
“She was still in dry dock when I got the tattoo,” he said, the pride in his voice obvious. “She was battered and neglected when she became mine, but she was glorious once I had her repaired.”
“What was her name? And what happened to her after Siofra cursed you?” I traced its outline with a fingernail and was rewarded with a sharp hiss.
He took a steadying breath after glaring down at me in mock anger. “I renamed her when she became mine, after my mother. I christened her the Caoimhe. And when I disappeared, everyone assumed that I’d been swept overboard during the storm. So, the Caoihme became the property of my first mate. If she couldn't be mine, I'm glad she became his. She sailed on for another seven years before she finally met her end on a coral reef near the tip of Africa. My mate went down with her.”
“I’m so sorry, Finn.”
“Don’t be, not for me or for my crew. It was a part of the life. And I’ve had plenty of time to realize that the life I had wasn’t always much of a life.” He paused, taking my chin in his hand and tilting my face up so he could look into my eyes. “And right now, I’m grateful for it. I’m even grateful for Siofra."
"What? How could you possibly be grateful to someone who cursed you like this?"
“Because if she hadn’t cursed me, I would have continued to live my life as a rake. I wouldn’t have learned the lessons I needed to. I never would have had the chance to know anything else. Because it all led me to this moment.”
My cheeks flushed at his words. “Nonetheless, three centuries is a long time to wait.”
“Perhaps, but it's worth it, I think.”
I wanted to argue, but I never got the chance. He crushed his lips to mine and no words other than whispers were uttered for a long time. There was something about him that pulled me in and held me there. There was no resisting him, even if I wanted to, and I sure as hell didn’t want to.
He crushed my lips in another searing kiss as he lifted me up again and laid me down on the rug in front of the fire. He slipped off my pajama pants, leaving me naked under his heated gaze. He let go of me just long enough to throw a few more logs on the fire. It was the only light in the dark living room, but the darkness hid nothing when he stood up and took off his boots and jeans. He looked down at me, wearing nothing but his boxers. I forgot my own nakedness as my eyes traveled his body. His muscled legs were almost as inked as the rest of him. The flames glanced off the metal on his hands and in his ears, the bars that pierced his nipples. He was beautiful as he stood over me in the firelight, so mesmerizing that I almost missed it.
His boxers. Black boxers with the Jolly Roger all over them. Oh, my God! Is this like the pirate version of Underoos? The tongue-in-cheek humor was sexy as hell and I told him so.
He flushed a little, but didn't say anything, just flashed that smile of his that melted me inside and out as he hooked his fingers into the waist of his boxers. My eyes followed his hands as he lowered them to the floor and I forgot how to speak. He was huge and perfectly manscaped and I wasn’t even subtle as I stared at him. Never one to be in any moment without inappropriate thoughts, every bad romance novel cliché for that part of a man’s body flitted through my brain. Throbbing tumescence. Engorged member. None of those came close to describing the thing of beauty that hovered above me.
I finally managed to move on from it and meet his eyes. My admiration for his man parts hadn't gone unnoticed and he grinned down at me. He dropped to his knees beside me and I felt the tip of him graze my hip before he moved to lie on his side. Everywhere our skin touched, it burned. I rose to meet him, but he put a hand on my stomach and gently pushed me back to the floor.
“We have all the time in the world. Just let me touch you right now,” he murmured. “No hands, just relax.”
Relax? How the hell am I supposed to relax? The man was gorgeous, but he was infuriating. All I wanted was my hands on him and, once again, he denied me. But I knew he would make it worth every moment of frustration, so I gave in, raising my hands over my head, unable to touch his delicious body.
He cupped my face in his hand and smoothed his thumb over my lips. I wanted him to kiss me again. It was as if he had me under a spell of his own. No one had ever looked at me the way he did, eyes smoky with desire, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his.
Finn trailed his fingers along the skin between my breasts and my entire body shivered under his touch. They slid across my stomach, tra
cing tiny circles around my navel before moving back to tease the skin underneath my breasts. By the time he reached my nipples, I was barely able to control myself. His fingers danced back and forth, torturing me, but it was torture of the sweetest, most pleasurable kind. He drove me to the edge time and time again, pulling back just before I could topple over it. He was ruthless. Every time I tried to touch him, he moved me, leaving me breathless and cold without his touch.
“Your ‘no hands’ rule kind of sucks right now, Finn,” I grumbled.
“Does it? Do you mind it that much, a ghrá?”
As he spoke, he pinched my nipple hard, sending shock waves through me. Before I could protest, I felt his hand on my stomach and the words drifted away unspoken. He held my gaze as his hand slid lower and lower, stopping a moment too soon. Slowly, so slowly it was almost painful, he traced the line that hid where I wanted him to be. His fingers were like butterfly kisses and I couldn’t take his teasing for another moment.
I arched my back, pushing myself towards his hand, wanting to feel his whole hand on my skin. He pulled back, as I knew he would, and I took full advantage of it, throwing myself toward him. I pushed him on his back and, before he could stop me, I straddled him and held his wrists above his head. It was my turn to torture him.
But the torture wasn’t his alone. Teasing him was torture for me, too. His sharp intake of breath hissed through his teeth when I tugged on the silver spirals in his ears with my teeth. The smell of his skin filled my nose as I nipped at the skin of his throat. Cloves and the faint scent of the sea. It was intoxicating.
I finally had to tear myself away from his throat. There was so much more of him and I wanted to explore every inch. His muscles stood in sharp relief when they tensed under my hands and my mouth. I worked my way down to tease his nipples the way he had tortured mine. I tugged on the barbells between my teeth and pulled just enough to make him hiss. When I bit one of his nipples, he groaned and it was almost the end of me.