Oh.Oh.
A gun range.
I glance across the stalls with people lined up, safety glasses and bulky ear protection on, taking aim at targets I can’t quite see yet. The acrid scent of gunpowder lingers in the air, sharp but not unpleasant.
“I’ve never done this before.”
I’m not opposed to it. I’m kind of excited about it if I’m being honest.
But I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.
Hex leans in, his voice low and teasing. “I’m very well-equipped to teach you things you’ve never done before.”
There’s something in the way he says it—so deliberate, so suggestive—that has me clenching my thighs. Great.Just great. Now all I can do is hope these barely-there panties are enough to keep the dampness he caused between my legs from soaking through my jeans and giving me away.
Looking for a way to distract myself, I take in the atmosphere. Outside of the gunpowder and oil smells, there is a quiet bond between the people here. People who move with certainty, weapons in hand, as if they’re a natural part of who they are. The guy at the counter lifts his chin in acknowledgment, eyeslocating Hex before offering a nod of respect. It’s subtle, but I catch it, and it sends a ripple of curiosity through me. I’ve known men who command attention, but this is something different. It’s earned, not demanded.
Hex removes his leather jacket, revealing an olive-colored T-shirt stretched across those round shoulders and arms that make my fingers itch with entirely too many inappropriate thoughts of touch. The man is solid, his body a testament to something more resilient than what most of us are made of. His jeans emphasize thick thighs and the casual confidence in the way he moves.
He pulls a set of ear protectors and safety glasses from his bag, handing them over. “You’ll still hear me. Won’t hear the gunshots.”
We both slip the protection on, and when his voice comes through perfectly clear, I blink. “What kind of witchcraft—”
“Technology.”
I narrow my eyes at his smirk that is quickly becoming a favorite of mine, but he’s already pulling two cases from his bag, setting them on the counter in front of us. He pops the first one open, revealing a sleek, compact handgun. “Sig Sauer P365. Good for beginners, easy trigger pull, solid accuracy.” He taps the second case. “Glock 19. Bit bigger, more control once you get the hang of it.”
I eye both weapons, then him. “You’re assuming I’ll get the hang of it.”
“You will.” There’s no doubt in his voice, just quiet certainty that does something traitorous to my stomach.
He checks the chamber on the Sig, ensuring it’s empty before handing it to me. “We’ll start with the basics.”
I take it slowly, both hands steady but not quite sure. The grip is colder than I expected and the weight, heavier than it looks. I shift it in my palm, the metal pressing into my skin, foreign andintimate all at once. My pulse ticks up. Not from fear exactly. From the knowing. From what it means to hold power like this.
“Were you in the military?” I ask.
“No.”
I glance up at him, expecting more, but that’s all I get. The pieces are easy enough to fit together, though. The way he handles the gun, the way the guy at the counter acknowledged him—Hex has experience. More than casual. More than just a hobby.
After holding the gun for a little bit and getting more comfortable. I hand it back and he gets it prepped.
“First rule of gun safety: always assume it’s loaded. Never point it at something you don’t intend to destroy. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.”
I nod, absorbing the information. “Got it.”
Hex moves in behind me, his hands settling lightly on my hips before adjusting my stance. The heat of his palms burns through my jeans, and I catch the scent of him—leather, something clean and sharp, and underneath it all, something purely male that makes my mouth go dry. Warmth rolls off him, wrapping around me, and suddenly the cold steel in my hands isn’t the biggest threat. It’s the way my body reacts to his. The way his fingers linger a heartbeat too long. Focusing on the whole life-or-death weapon thing? Yeah… not exactly top of mind.
He reaches forward, guiding my grip, his chest pressing flush against my back. “Tight, but don’t strangle it. You’re in control, not wrestling it into submission.”
The vibration of his voice travels through me, and I have to bite back a gasp. His hands completely engulf mine, callused fingers sliding over my knuckles as he adjusts my hold. Every point of contact between us feels electric.
I exhale a laugh, then inhale sharply when he nudges my arms into position, the movement bringing his chest flush against my back. “Like this?” My voice comes out breathier than intended.
“Good girl.” His voice rumbles through his chest, vibrating against my back as much as in my ear protection. “Now keep your eyes on the target.”
Easier said than done when the real source of my attention stands behind me, heat radiating from him as though he's a furnace wearing human skin. Still, I manage to center myself, swallowing past the sudden dryness in my throat.
