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“Lift your arms and point exactly where you want to shoot. Keep your fingers off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.”
She swallows, a flush rising in her cheeks when she lifts the gun.
“Straighten your arms.”
“Am I going to hit myself in the face?”
“No.”
“Feels like it,” she murmurs, voice tight with anxiety. She pauses, sucking in a deep breath.
Then, her shoulders drop.
“I can’t do this.”
“Are you helpless?”
She gawks at me, her brows quickly furrowing together.
“What?”
I shrug. “You want to be helpless, there’s nothing I can do for you.”
“You can’t force me to be okay with guns.”
She purses her lips, cheeks flaming to match her lips. I step behind her and take her round hips in my hands, jerking her until she’s facing straight down the line toward the target.
“Are you afraid of them? Or what you can do with them?”
Her mouth snaps shut, breath hitching from my lips at her ear. I run my nose up the column of her throat and though she’d deny it, a shiver rolls through her.
“I . . . I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she breathes, voice soft just like her skin when I slip my hand under her shirt.
I brush my thumb over her belly button, then higher until the cotton falls over to cover my hand. Hannah jerks in my grasp when I run my hands over the underside of her bra, her body molding perfectly against mine when I tug her back to me.
“You know how it feels on the bike?” I ask, voice low and dark in her ear, her heartbeat racing under my fingertips. Goosebumps pebble on the flesh under my lips, but she doesn’t move away.
“Someone might see us,” she whispers when my other hand slips lower, grazing over the smooth planes of her stomach to slip beneath the waistband of her jeans.
“If I slip my fingers in your panties right now, will you be wet?”
“Mason,” she growls under her breath, but she fails to realize, there are no cameras here. Not in the range, or at least, none that can see us beyond the divider separating us from the othershooters. It’s why I come here. I don’t need anyone else in my way.
“Answer me, Hannah.” I nip the shell of her ear and her eyes close of their own volition.
“Yes,” she bites and I almost chuckle at the bitterness in her tone.
I can relate.
If I thought having her in my space would be a problem before I moved her in, I was wrong.
It’s a goddamn nightmare.
She’s everywhere and she did it all in less than twenty-four hours. Not that I’m surprised. She’s always been a walking hard-on waiting to happen and having her scent around me constantly is like dangling a steak in front of a hungry lion.
Now she can see what it feels like.
“Does holding the power to protect yourself in your hands feel good, little doe?”
