“You’re a hero,” I say, my heart swelling.
He leans down and kisses my forehead. “What I did today to Vin felt the most rewarding.”
He slips little disposable plugs into my ears and fastens goggles over my eyes, then does the same for himself.
“Watch.” Rhys lifts a black pistol so elegantly, I go still.
He aims the gun at a target way back in the firing lane. His first shot splits the air like a crack of thunder. I flinch, but Rhys doesn’t even blink.
I lose count of the shots that follow. But he’s already dropping a magazine and sexily adding another.
I shamefully watch the thing being shoved into the handle, and there is that damn wetness between my legs again. This isn’t a place to be distracted bythosethoughts.
Bam Bam Bam Bam…
Reload.
Bam Bam Bam Bam…
Each movement flows into the next, seamless and sure. His focus is terrifying and beautiful. It’s like watching a panther circle its prey. Then attack.
When the last clip empties, he flicks the safety on and sets it down. Glancing back at me with a calm expression and a glint in his eyes, he purrs, “Your turn.”
My throat goes dry. “I… I don’t know how.”
“That’s why we’re here.” He gestures me forward.
My heart pounds as I step into his lane. He stands behind me. Close. But it no longer feels too close. Rhys’s body against mine feels a little wicked, but perfect.
“Feet apart.” His hands skim down my arms, adjusting my elbows, guiding my fingers around the grip of the weapon. “Anchor yourself.” His body heat wraps around me, steady and grounding.
My pulse thunders so loud I barely hear him.
“Breathe.” His warm lips graze my ear. “Steady, love. You got this. Show me.”
Calling melovemelts through me like molten sugar, even if the gun feels ice cold in my hands. That changes when both his hands cover mine. His skin is hot, solid, and unshakably in control.
“See the target in the scope?” he asks, playing with my hair. Playing with me.
“Yeah?” My knees wobble as I lift the gun.
“It’s more mental than physical ability. Look back and forth between the scope and the naked eye. Your brain will calculate the angle and your arms will adjust.”
“Should I be picturing someone?” I ask.
Rhys goes still. “Not unless you want to. Are you…picturing someone? It better not be me.”
“No,” I scoff.
But I perform the ritual he mentioned, and on my last gaze into the scope, I see Kosta’s big head and small dick after he raped me.
Die, you bastard.I inhale. Hold. And squeeze the trigger.
The recoil jolts up my arms. The shot unfortunately goes wide, not even close to the target.
Rhys growls low, “Again.”
“But…”
