I jumped as Finn seemingly materialized next to me. I couldn’t tell if he was talking about the ocean or my desire to be close to him. I lost all train of thought as he fixed his blue eyes on me.
“What are you doing here?” I said, a little too spastic.
“Baking cookies,” he smirked at me.
“You shouldn’t tease me like that, it’s dangerous. I take baked goods very seriously.” A slow smile formed on his lips.
“Dangerous happens to be my specialty,” he said in a low voice, taking a step closer to me. My entire body warmed. He was like my own personal bonfire.
From my vantage point I can see the back of his neck flush pink beneath his collar. He's got freckles there, too. I wonder how many more freckle's he's got. Are they all over, or just where the sun's touched?
Good Lord, why am I thinking of Finn Belastra without his clothes on?
Get on with it," Mrs. O'Hare prompts, and I do, wrapping the bandage snugly over Finn's instep and up his calf― which is sinewy with muscle, covered in fine coppery hair and more freckles. I'm fascinated by the pattern they form over his skin. Do they go all the way up his leg?
I flush scarlet at the the thought.
I give Finn a wicked smile. "Don't you think a peg leg would be charming? Like a pirate? The first mate of the Calypso had one, didn't he?"
"It would add a certain rakish factor. Have you got a spare eye patch?"
"Be serious, you two. Gangrene is no laughing matter," Mrs. O'Hare scolds.
He may not have said the words, but I know my son. I saw the way he looked at you."
"How?"
"Like he'd do murder for you.
Finns squares his shoulders—which have gotten a good deal sturdier since I last saw him. Or paid attention, at any rate. How long has it been since I actually looked? He's gotten awfully handsome; it can't have happened overnight.
Jessica SpotswoodTag: finn
I have never been this close to a man before. Something stirs deep, pulsing through my body, and its quite like the tug of magic, buts its not the magic; this is something entirely different, just between Finn and me and this moment.
Jessica SpotswoodI feel us tilting toward each other like trees in a strong breeze. I've been craving the sight of him for days, but now its not enough. I'm not sure who moves first. The inches between us are erased until I'm in his arms and my mouth finds his.
Jessica SpotswoodGabe says you make a mean chicken."
Finn, who is sitting by the fireplace making smoke, comments for the first time. "Well, she certainly doesn't make a nice one.
What if she's all I give you in this life of ours, my love?" she asked quietly.
"Then I'll shout at the goddess in fury," he said fiercely. "I'll beg to know why I've been given so much when other men have so little.
Tag: inspirational love death finn isaboe finnickin
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