Page 11 of Shiver Me Timbers

“Not yet.” Pale hands grip my shirt, tugging me even closer. Her heartbeat knocks against mine, rattling along extra fast. “So keep going.”

Screwing my eyes shut, I plunge into darkness. There’s nothing to guide me now except her soft hair tickling my neck, and my mouth against her skin, and our bodies pressed so tightly together that we’re merging into one. The raw hunger for her is a knife in my gut.

Pete would hate this if he saw. He’d kick my ass to kingdom come—or he’d try, at any rate. At a foot shorter than me, he’d struggle.

But Ellie’s right. Pete’s gone. And though I miss that bastard every day, miss my best friend like a hole in my chest… it’s nothing compared to how I’d feel if I lost his daughter.

My gut swoops. Should I be ashamed of that thought? I don’t even know. Everything’s jumbled up and so messy, so wrong and so right, and now that I’ve tasted the salty-sweetness of Ellie’s skin, now that I’ve felt her shudder and sigh against me, I can’t go back.

Can never go back. I screw my eyes shut even tighter, until white spots float in the darkness.

Maybe I am weak—or maybe I’ve been stubborn for too long. Who knows? But maybe I’ll let Ellie be the judge. She’s the only one I care about, really.

Snarling, I lick a stripe up her neck and wedge her legs apart with my thigh. She parts for me so easily, like the tide breaking over a rock.

“Duncan.” Ellie yanks on my shirt and arches her body against mine. Each whimper is music to my clamoring ears. “Oh my god. Oh, shit. This is happening. Don’t you dare stop, okay? If you stop, I’ll brain you with the anchor.”

She’s feverish and eager, babbling in my ear. We move together in the dark, rubbing and panting, all bared teeth and gripped hair, and my thoughts have spun clean out of my head.

I’m pure instinct. Pure body. Nothing but primal urges.

Mine.

This young woman is mine. Need to get inside her; need to rut.

Ellie makes a soft sound as I squeeze her hair in my fist. She lets me tug her head back, complying so sweetly; she tilts her chin to give me better access to her perfect throat. And Christ knows what I’d do to her, how rough I’d be, except lightning forks across the night sky. The air sizzles with static, and my ears pop as the boat lights die, plunging us into pitch darkness.

“Jesus!”

The wind builds and howls, wrenching at our clothes, and theEllie Mayis tossed on sudden waves. The deck plummets beneath us, then tilts to one side, like we’re riding a roller coaster up and down the sea, clinging to the rail and to each other with white-knuckled hands.

All around us, high pitched and horribly out of tune, a ghostly woman wails.

Five

Ellie

Iswear to god, if this ghost cock blocks me with Duncan Matlock, I’ll exorcise the whole of Belladonna Bay. The town, the harbor, even the pirate caves—I’ll burn through bushels of revenge sage. No spirit will escape my wrath.

“Ignore her.” Hooking one arm through the rail for balance, I cup the side of Duncan’s face, reveling in the soft, wiry feel of his beard beneath my palm. He’s never let me touch him like this before—but then again, I’ve never really tried. “She’ll get bored and wail herself out. Continue with what you were doing, please.”

But Duncan’s already plucking my hand away and turning to squint at the shadowed wheelhouse, one hand braced against the rail. His expression is impossible to read with nothing but the gloomy moonlight to see by, but it doesn’t look good. His forehead is etched with a deep frown.

“Duncan,” I say, wetting my bottom lip. My heart’s racing in my chest, and icy sea water sloshes over the rail and showers us in foamy spray. A dazed crab scuttles past my sneaker.

My dad’s best friend just licked my bare skin. He panted all over me, so manly and primal and perfect.

But he didn’t kiss my mouth yet. Surely it’s not over already? What if Duncan changes his mind and never wants to touch me again? What if that was my only chance?

The ghost wails louder, changing key.

“Duncan,” I say again.

“Mm?” His shadowed face glances back at me, then away. He sounds distracted—like we weren’t just dry humping against the rail. “Sorry, Ellie. I need to fix those lights. If the power’s gone completely, we’re in trouble.”

Embarrassingly late, I remember where we are: at sea in a sudden storm, with the deck tilting beneath our feet. Plunged into darkness, with a ghost throwing a tantrum all around us, and thunder rumbling loud enough to rattle my teeth.

Crap. See, this is why so many horny teenagers die in horror movies. The sex haze takes over, and common sense flies out the window, and then the ax murderer has an easy time of it.

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