by S. M. Butler
He helped her move the targets back to six hundred yards, and as they jogged back to the line where a green flag was flying, she couldn’t help but poke him a bit. “You might just win the cottage after all, you know. Rik’s not unbeatable with the pistol.”
“Getting my hopes up just to dash them hard, White?”
“I remember you being quite good with the pistol.”
“And I remember you killing the six hundred yard rifle shot.”
She grinned. Yeah, she was pretty good. “Anything is possible.”
He grabbed the red flag and stuck it in the air, making the range a live-fire site again. She couldn’t help but ogle the long stretch of his muscles, and he caught her looking as he glanced down. “Is that right?”
“Of course.”
He stepped close, right into her space, blocking her from the rest of the team. “You gonna figure out soon that I want you to come along with the cottage when I win it?”
Her mouth dropped open, and he gently pressed her chin up with his fingertips.
“Time to shoot, cariño.”
She sputtered at his back as he sauntered away. That was low, the dirty rat. And she couldn’t even stay mad at him, because that ass was distracting her. So she followed it, and by the time she retrieved her rifle from Trent, her heartbeat had settled down to just slightly fluttery.
Stop being such a complete girl. Besides, two could tease.
They shot in reverse order, with Jackson going first, and Rik coming last, putting Vince to shoot right before her. As soon as Mats finished his prone shots, Larken stood up and looked up at the sky with an exaggerated sigh. “Man, it’s hot out here.”
Vince whipped his head around, his eyes narrowing as she wiggled her hips and peeled off her shirt. Beside her, Trent muttered something about tits not belonging on the range, and she thought about kicking him, but then Mats did exactly what she wanted him to do—let out a long, low wolf-whistle at the sight of her red bikini top.
There was zero sexual attraction between her and the young Norwegian, but he wasn’t dead and she wasn’t above using him for her purposes. Vince’s face darkened as she waved at him. “Your turn!”
He swallowed what she assumed was a long string of Spanish curses, and picked up his rifle.
His standing score wasn’t good, but he pulled it together and managed a marksman level score for both kneeling and prone.
“Put your shirt on,” he muttered, his gaze burning her skin as she slid past him to take her position.
“Welcome to the Caribbean,” she said, smiling sweetly.
“That was unsportsmanlike!”
“Awww, poor kitten. Kind of like you telling me you want me in the cottage with you?”
“I wasn’t playing!”
“Okay.” She grinned. “Now excuse me, I have a range to own.”
And she did own that round. Even Rik couldn’t beat her. But that was where her luck ran out. She hung in the top three, but by the end of the twenty-five meter pistol shoot, Rik and Vince—who’d shot nearly perfectly—were tied for the lead.
Her haven was slipping through her fingers.
But maybe you don’t need it anymore. She’d been on the island almost exclusively since she’d been hired by Rik, only leaving with the team for their missions. And even then, she was the sniper. Solitude was her way of life, hiding up high or far away. Watching and listening, taking out threats. Keeping everything at bay.
Not Vince. She couldn’t keep him at bay. Didn’t even want to try.
Jackson and Trent put up the green flag, and moved the targets out to fifty meters. She paced back and forth, trying to do the math on what she’d need to shoot to win.
Better than she’d ever shot in her life. And Vince and Rik would both need to miss.
It wasn’t going to happen.
“This was a stupid idea,” she griped as Vince walked over, scuffing the pale, sandy dirt. “And don’t tell me again that I need to have faith in myself.”
“No.” He bumped her shoulder with his arm. “You just need to shoot better.”
“Shoot perfect, you mean.”
“Yeah. So do that.”
She just snorted, and he didn’t say anything else. They watched Trent, Jackson and Mats all take their shots, then it was her turn.
She hadn’t really been in the zone all afternoon, but now as she settled onto her spot, knees relaxed, arms loose, she felt that calm slip over her. She could see the target, could feel the muscles that she’d need all twitch in readiness.
Her slow-fire cluster was good. She knew it in her bones. But her rapid-fire cluster was actually perfect. She didn’t need to see the target paper.
She stepped back, nodding to Rik that it was his turn. She didn’t look over at Vince. She didn’t need to. She could feel his smile.
Her boss had a decent round, then another, but it wasn’t good enough, she was pretty sure. Now it was down to Vince.
As Rik cleaned his weapon, she could feel him watching her watch their newest team member.
“Go on,” she sighed. “Say what’s on your mind.”
“Two days ago you were demanding I kick him off the island.”
She grinned. “Yeah.”
“I take it you’re withdrawing your objection?”
Her eyes stayed trained on the man she couldn’t get enough of, standing tall and determined as he aimed down the range. “Definitely no objections.”
Pop. Pop. Pop. He wasn’t throwing the competition, that was for sure. From a distance, it looked like his cluster was impossibly tight.
“Well, RSO?” asked Jackson, only throwing a tiny bit of snark on the acronym for range safety officer. “Can we put up the green flag and tally our miserable scores?”
“Yep.” She headed for the flag stand.
“Wait,” Vince said behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder.
He shrugged. “We could just call it a draw.”
“You scared, Nash?” She shook her head and pointed at the targets. “No draw. Let’s go find out who won.”
*
He’d thought about blowing the last target. It wasn’t in his nature, but for Larken…
Except she’d kick his ass if he did that. If he won this round, she’d get him next time. This wasn’t a do-or-die fight. The real measure was how they dealt with it.
He huffed a quiet laugh as he followed her down the lines. He’d already failed, then. He didn’t want to beat her. He wanted her to invite him to stay in her cottage, to make it their cottage—on her terms, not as part of a bet.
She started with the other guys, marking their scores on her clipboard. Then it was his turn. He counted along with her in his head, half-hoping she’d miscount. Of course she didn’t. Out of a possible perfect score of a hundred, because each shot could be ten points for nailing the center of the target, he’d scored ninety-six on the rapid-fire. She shifted to the slow-fire. This time, instead of counting along with her, he watched her lips silently move.
Larken had the best mouth. Wide and expressive when she was happy, tight and sharp when she wasn’t, it revealed a lot about her. And right now she was fighting back a smile. “Ninety-two,” she said, and he was so caught up in the curve of her lips that he almost missed it.
Almost.
“Ninety-what?”
“Two.” She beamed at him. “I mean, we still need to count my shots, but I’m pretty sure that you were twelve points out this round, and that, my friend, is what we call a healthy margin of error.”
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, cariño,” he pointed out. “And as soon as we’re alone, we’re going to talk about the definition of our relationship.”
“That’s what you’re taking offense to?” Her eyes sparkled as she caught her lower lip between her teeth, barely restraining her glee. “That I called you my friend?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m offended, per se.”
“A vein is pulsing in your forehead.”
“So unfriendly,” she murmured. “Maybe you’re right to be upset, we’re clearly mere acquaintances.”
“Is this a weird thing that happens to you when you win something, you get all giggly and teasing? I’m not complaining, but it’s pretty out of character.”
“Do you think I maybe won?” She spun around in a circle and he grabbed her by the upper arms, guiding her to her targets.
“We won’t know until we count.”
She handed over the clipboard. “You do it.”
Rolling his eyes, he tapped her pen against the holes on the first target sheet, then the second. “Ninety-five and ninety-six. That’s amazing.”
She took the clipboard and pen back from him and scribbled on the score sheet. Then she stared at the paper for a few seconds. Slowly, she glanced back to the targets, checking his count.
Having already done the math in his head, he waited for her to accept the fact that they’d tied.
“Hmm.” She finally said, tipping her head to the side.
“You didn’t lose,” he pointed out.
“Nope. That’s true.”
“You could still be giggly about this.”
“Yeah…” she chewed on her lip. “I will be. I just…I fully expected to either win or lose. I had reactions planned out for both possibilities. I was going to be gracious if I lost, and gleeful if I won.”
“Really? You were going to try to pull off gracious?”
She glowered at him and he couldn’t take it any longer. Advancing on her, he snatched her clipboard out of her hands and winged it up the lines.
“Hey, that was my victory clipboard,” she said on a breathy exhale as he hoisted her into the air. He couldn’t see or feel anything but her, and his brain kept trying to remind him they weren’t alone. That needed to change. His hands were full of too much bare skin for them to have an audience.
“We should go back to our cottage and celebrate,” he said, kissing her slowly, savoring the taste of her lips and her warm, willing body in his arms.
“We have to clean the guns.”
“How responsible of you,” he choked out, but she was right.
He set her down and they tidied up the range. They arrived back at the main house to the fragrant smells of dinner being prepared, and the faint sounds of Caribbean music.
“Sounds like Calli’s in the mood for a party,” Jackson said, setting down an armful of rifles in in the foyer. “She makes the best meatballs. They’ve got this glaze on them…”
“And the pineapple chicken skewers?” Trent gave Vince a backhanded slap on the arm. “Bloody hell, man, you’ve never had anything like a Calli feast.”
A party. Fantastic.
“We’ll get these locked up if you guys go and get some beer flowing?” Larken asked, smiling sweetly at her teammates.
Vince grabbed the rifles, slinging three over each shoulder, and followed her down a hall. He watched her nibble little fingers tap in the code, then she pressed her thumb to the scanner.
Inside he found a fully kitted-out weapons room. There was a table in the middle, so he dumped the rifles there. “You’ve got a lot of gear.”
She grinned. “I know, right?”
“What’s your favorite?”
She glanced around, then picked up an FN P-90. His cock thickened at the sight of the hybrid submachine gun in her hands. Black metal, red bikini, and Larken biting her lip in concentration. It was more than he could handle.
“Come here.” As soon as she put down the PDW, he snatched her by the waist and settled her on top of the table next to the rifles. “We’re alone,” he whispered as his lips brushed hers.
She closed her eyes and sighed, wiggling closer. “For a few minutes.”
“I can do a lot in a short period of time.”
“Just kiss me,” she breathed. “And once the party is over, take me to bed.”
He groaned. He could do that.
Chapter Nine
‡
Larken woke up to Vince’s hand cupped around her breast and his mouth pressed against her neck. His chest rose and fell regularly against her back, but against her ass, his cock was swelling.
Heat swirled through her body, starting low in her pelvis before rising and spreading across her torso and down her limbs. Every inch of her tingled in awareness.
They’d come home late—couldn’t get away sooner—and he’d taken her in the shower, rough and fast.
It had been perfect.
Then they’d fallen asleep before either had a chance to initiate round two.
Now, even though it was still dark out, she was rested again, and at least part of him was definitely ready.
“Are you awake?” she whispered, arching her back. Her breath caught as her nipple rubbed against his sleep-warmed palm, and moisture flooded her aching sex.
“Absolutely,” he mumbled, sliding his other hand over her waist, rubbing her belly.
“Lower,” she breathed, lifting her leg and hooking it back over his.
“I love the way your ass rubs against my cock. We should always sleep naked.”
“Okay, baby.”
“This is so nice,” he murmured, nosing along her neck.
“It would be nicer if you were fingering me.”
“I can’t believe you ever thought I was the bossy one.” He yawned, but it was clearly a trap, because the next thing she knew she was flat on her stomach and her hands were pinned above her head, her wrists held together by one of his hands. The other trailed down her bare back as she squirmed. And maybe spread her legs a little.
“I’m sorry,” she said, laughing. “What would you rather I say?”
“How about, ‘When I wake you up in the middle of the night, you can do whatever you want to me.’”
“I didn’t—” She gasped as a light swat landed on the fleshiest part of her butt. “Oh!”
“Try again,” he said right against her ear.
She panted as she clenched everything tight, from her eyes to her pussy and most definitely her ass. “I-didn’t-wake-you-up!”
Another swat, this one actually making her moan, although it hurt more than the first one.
The first one hadn’t hurt at all.
It had just felt good.
“Don’t tense up,” he purred in her ear.
“Are you giving me spanking lessons?”
“You clearly need them.”
Oh, sweet hell. “This is something new and interesting about you.”
He smoothed his palm over her cheeks, then stroked lower, between her legs. He chuckled as he touched her pussy. Yeah. Hilarious that she was dripping wet for him. “You like it.”
“What are we doing?” she asked breathlessly.
“Foreplay.”
“Okay.” She gulped. “Yes, please.”
“So you woke me up…”
“Nope. You woke me up,” she protested. “For real. But maybe it doesn’t matter…” How did his touch do that to her body? Set her on fire and send all other thoughts out of her head?
“Ahhh, Larken.” He cupped her entire sex, his fingertips finding her clit hard and throbbing. “Te quiero con todo que soy, cariño.” I love you with everything I am.
She froze, all of her muscles going rigid in a completely different way than before. She realized too late that she was giving herself away. Her blood ran cold in her veins, then heated up again, super-hot this time, flowing too fast. Thudding in her ears.
It couldn’t be true. It was too soon. Too much.
And she wasn’t that lucky. She’d already been too lucky this weekend.
“Larken?”
She sucked in a breath. Too shallow. Not enough oxygen. Oh God, she was going to pass out.
“¿Quizás ya es hora de que admitas hablar español?” Maybe it’s time to admit you know Spanish?
She shook her head so fast it hurt her brain. “Nope.”
“Really?” Had disbelief
ever been gentler or more understanding?
She wiggled her wrists and he immediately let her go. She grabbed at his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Hanging on to him for dear life. Twisting her face so she could see his in the early dawn shadows, she gave the tiniest of nods. “Okay, I know a little Spanish.”
“Should I repeat it in English?”
Could she ask him for that? Holding her breath, she nodded more bravely and squeaked out, “yes.”
“I love you.” His voice cracked, like it was easier to bare his heart in Spanish. But it was more than enough.
“Oh, Vince.” She twisted in his arms, scrambling to wrap herself around him. She kissed him like kissing was better than breathing, like his touch more valuable than air. When she finally reassured herself that he was real, and in her arms, she pulled back and gave him a big, unblinking look. “I will kill you if you ever leave me again.”
He matched her blank stare for a second, then laughed, a big ear-to-ear grin accompanying it. “That’s so romantic.”
“Wait. I’m pretty sure I love you, too.” She swallowed hard against the wave of confession she could feel pressing out of her, then decided not to hold the dam. “I know it kind of sucks to hedge it like that, but this weekend has felt like a crash course in human connection, and I’m still playing catch up. But you make me happy, in my heart, deep down inside. Happy from the inside out. You make me feel light as air. I love that you fight with me and play with me. Two days with you has been better for my soul than twelve years of solitude. I think I need you.” She paused. “That’s where the threat of violence came in.”
His grin fell away, his eyes soft and searching. She wanted to think it was a look he’d only ever have for her. “All the time that’s passed, the time we could have been together, and—”
“No.” She shook her head. “We wouldn’t have lasted. You would’ve gone…somewhere. Rangers if not the SEAL teams. Re-upped into the Air Force so you could be a bad-ass Black Hawk pilot. You were destined for big things, everyone could see it. And whatever it would have been, it would have taken you from me. That was a given. We wouldn’t have lasted, no matter what. We were kids and we were both scared.”
He hauled her tight against him. “We’re not kids anymore. And nothing about a life with you scares me.”