If she responds, I miss it, because I’ve stepped up against her, and the temptation of her body flanking mine, my front to her back, distracts me momentarily. I can feel the heat of her body, feel that electric jolt of chemistry between us ten times stronger than when it was just my hands, but I shove the thought away as quickly as possible.
“Put your arms in front of you like you’re firing,” I instruct, and she complies, lifting her arms in front of her at chest height with her palms together. I lift my own to mimic her, but I have the Glock in my left hand.
My chest is pressed against her back, my chin brushing just over the crown of her head so that the scent of her shampoo fills my head, and my arms frame hers so that we are literally touching in every possible way. And sure, my mind is focused on the task at hand, but in the silence from the headphones, everything my senses capture is magnified: her perfume, the warm breeze blowing so that her hair tickles my cheek, the feeling of her back expanding as she takes in a fortifying breath for the first time since we’ve been touching. And there’s something about my touch causing her to hold her breath that takes hold of me and doesn’t let go.
I lower my mouth to her ear so that the electronics can pick up my voice. “I want you to replace my hands on the gun.” She hesitates momentarily. “C’mon, rook. Take it from me,” I encourage her.
Beaux cautiously repositions her hands one by one, her arms dipping a bit when she first feels the weight of the weapon for herself, but I help reposition her hands before I close mine over hers. “See the little ridge right here? That’s the guide, and you aim that where you want to hit the target.” She nods her head ever so slightly. “Okay, so you’re good. When you’re ready, pull the trigger. There’s going to be a recoil, but I’ll help you so that it’s not too wicked.”
She nods again as I start to relax my muscles so that she can adjust the sight to her eye level. We stand like this for a few moments as I wait her out. I know she’s about to shoot when I feel her spine straighten and arms stiffen. She takes a deep breath and pulls the trigger.
When the recoil hits, I hold her hands as steady as possible, but her body shunts backward into mine from the force before the sound even echoes around the range. My feet are planted so that I absorb the impact for her, but goddamn, it doesn’t do shit to protect me from the feeling of her ass pressed against my dick.
Normally I’d give myself a second to enjoy the feel of her even though I’m trying to tell myself I don’t like it because… well because it’s her and I’m not supposed to like Beaux on principle, but damn. I’m supposed to be showing her how to shoot a weapon. The thought of sex with her should not cross my mind at all…
Her laugh vibrates through her chest and into mine, pulling me from the physical thoughts that have no place on a shooting range. I focus on deciphering what she finds so funny and notice she didn’t make a mark on the target at all.
“You’ve got to keep your eyes open, Beaux,” I say in her ear, earning myself a laugh and confirmation that my hunch was correct. “It doesn’t do you any good at all if you can’t see where you’re aiming.” She reins in her amusement and nods her head in silent understanding. “You want to try again?”
“Yes.”
So we go through the motions again of getting the right stance, and I swear a part of me feels like she’s drawing out the time from when our bodies are pressed close to the time when she pulls the trigger. I know it’s all in my mind, though. But having her so close is an unexpected seduction all its own.
And just when my thoughts begin to run through the memory of how her body felt wrapped around mine, she pulls the trigger and shocks the image from my mind. My conscience, guilty of nothing more than belonging to a red-blooded male, appreciates the jolt before my body starts reacting to the wayward sexual thoughts. I don’t think Beaux is likely going to appreciate having my dick hardening against her ass.
I’m telling myself I need to step away from her at the same time she lets out a little whoop over actually hitting the edge of the target. It’s the perfect distraction, and I release her hands to give us the physical space that I desperately need to prevent myself from acting like a prepubescent teenager.
“You hit paper!”
She looks over to me with a little bit of panic in her eyes. “What?” She turns her body, gun still in her hands, without thought, and I immediately step in and push her arms back toward downrange.
“Keep it pointed that way,” I instruct. Her eyes go wide with panic as she realizes what she’d almost just done. “It’s okay… Your turn to do it all by yourself. The kickback will be stronger, but you know what to expect now.”
She looks at me with an expression of uncertainty, but my only response is to step farther away from her to emphasize that she can do this on her own. I watch her turn back toward the target, see her shoulders rise as she concentrates on what she’s about to do, her small frame tensing just before she pulls the trigger. Her body jars with the recoil, but she does well holding her stance, and I have to say I’m rather impressed with both her shot and her form.
I retreat toward the staging area as she glances over to me, a smile spreading on those lush lips of hers, and there is something about her in the moment that causes my feet to falter. Maybe it’s her regal beauty mixed with the rough elements around us: black hair against soft cheeks, cold metal in the hands I know are smooth, emerald eyes standing out amid the sea of camouflage netting around her. I can’t pinpoint the exact nature of it all, but the excitement in her eyes combined with the softness of her smile has that familiar feeling dropping through me that I don’t want to feel – not here, not with her.
In my head, I immediately hear Stella chastising me, telling me to step back from the ledge because my libido is leading the charge in a way that makes me want more from Beaux than just her photographs. It doesn’t seem to help to remind myself this feeling is straight lust fueled by loneliness and desire. A total fuckup of a combination.
What sane man wouldn’t be attracted to her? Shit, I fell for her ruse, so I can’t feign innocence, but at least I learned my lesson.
“Damn, Thomas, she can pull my trigger any day,” Sarge says under his breath as I pull my ear protection off. He has just proven my exact point.
“Nah, I think she bats for her own team.” The comment is off my tongue before I can stop it, and thank God he laughs. I do too. The only difference is that I’m laughing at the ludicrousness of my knee-jerk response while he’s thinking what a shame it is to waste that body of hers.