“That’s no’ where I feel it,” he whispers. He takes out a flask and has a swig before he offers it to me.
“Well, so—” I shake my head at him as I glare over. Swallow. “Where do you feel it then?”
He lifts his eyebrows playfully.
“Ah!” I stomp my foot, annoyed to have fallen into that trap. “You’re disgusting.” I walk quickly down the street, shaking my head at him. “Filthy! You’re deplorable even! I can’t believe—”
He grabs my wrist and spins me around so we’re toe-to-toe. “That yer attracted to me?”
“No!” I yank my hand away from him, smacking him with it. “That I’m even…spending time with you!”
“Aye.” He nods, conceding as he swallows. “But y’are attracted to me.”
“I…” I scoff, shaking my head.
“Look at ye!” Jamison beams, all smug. “Yer lost for words.”
I scoff again, reach into his internal coat pocket, and grab his flask. I yank off the lid and take a big sip, and he stares down at me, eyebrows up, but I think perhaps a little impressed. I rather like the feeling of impressing him, and maybe my brain runs through a few hypothetical scenarios where I might be able to impress him again.* I screw the lid back on extra tight and hand it back to him.
Our hands brush as I do, and for a sliver of a second, the smug look on his face is knocked off, and he’s looking over at me with a face that looks like my heart feels—caught off guard and a tiny bit afraid. It’s just for a moment, but I see it before he blinks it away and he’s back to smug all over again.
“Did that help?” He gestures to his flask. “Do ye feel more in control of yerself around me now?”
I give him my biggest eye roll and walk past him.
I hear him laugh and then he’s next to me again. “D?nnae worry. I have that effect on many a girl.”
My chin drops to my chest a bit. “How many girls?”
His eyebrows go tall. “Many,” he overenunciates.
I make a sound at the back of my throat. Jamison Hook is probably the most annoying man I’ve ever met, but let’s be sure about this: he is terribly manly.
He flicks his eyes over at me, amused. “Sure, but how’d sex come up anyway?” He takes another swig from his flask.
“Well,” I sigh. “Peter said for me to sleep with him—”
Jamison chokes on his rum.
“Not like that!” I clarify quickly, shaking my head, though I did enjoy how his hearing that made him react. That makes me feel a good bit better. I peer up at him, and our eyes catch, and my heart trips a little.
“What way then?” he asks, shaking his head as he squashes away a smile. Always squashing smiles… I wonder if it’s a pirate thing? Are they not supposed to be happy?
“In his hammock. With him.”
“A hammock.” He eyes me. “Yer sleeping in a hammock?”
“Mmm—” I purse my lips, considering this. “it’s a cross between a hammock and a nest.”
I can see him trying to imagine it, but to his credit, it’s hard to picture.
“Do ye enjoy that?” he asks.
I shrug.
“Well.” He gives me a look. “I hae a bed, should ye ever care to use it.”
I roll my eyes and walk ahead of him.
“I’m just being a gentleman,” he calls after me.
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” I say without looking back at him.
And he goes “hah,” and I feel quite pleased with myself.
Jamison leans back against a wall, head tilted as he watches me, brows a little furrowed. “Are ye at all equipped to be giving them thon lesson?”
I turn around, frowning. “What do you mean?”
He nods his chin at me. “Have ye even had sex?”
My cheeks creep pink again, and I feel like I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t want to be, so I fold my arms over my chest, square them, and go stand toe-to-toe with that pirate. I back him up into the wall as far as he’ll go, and nose in the air, I tell him, proud as I can, “No.”
“All right then,” His eyes fall down my body, and he nods once and then he swallows heavy. “Good to know.”
I put my hands on my hips and try to look superior. “Why is that good to know?”
He shakes his head. “Just good t’ ken.” He squashes another smile and presses his tongue into his bottom lip but says nothing else, and I don’t know why, but I feel myself smiling back at him too.