He looked starved for her. His eyes narrowed and jaw flexed. Waves of sex appeal stole her breath, so much that she could hardly think. She couldn’t swallow away the need to pounce and crawl all over his hard body, then lick his neck, his chest, his… everything. He could make her hot and bothered in record time, at mach speed, but he didn’t need to know that. She slapped her hands on her hips and emphasized her chest and the curves of her body—everything she knew he liked. His black eyes flared. God, he’s too much fun. “You don’t like, baby?”
“I like.” His gaze laser-focused on her chest. “But I can see your nipples.”
His scrutiny stroked her. The kitchen’s atmosphere sparked with palpable intensity. They would never make it to the game he’d planned. Too bad, curiosity’s a bitch. “You’ve seen my tits before. Don’t distract me with your fuck-me gaze, or we won’t make it to game time.”
He chuckled. His kiss-swollen lips broke into a sinful smile, showing perfect teeth that had so recently bitten and grazed her sensitive skin. She knew that mouth felt better than heaven, and she caught herself licking her bottom lip.
“You sure that’s what you want to wear, pretty girl?”
“We going somewhere?” She twisted the hem of her shirt in her fingertips. She tried to control her output of energy, but she failed, and he noticed.
“Nope. Not leaving home. You ready?”
She nodded. “What’s the game?”
That sinful smile morphed into one that only the devil could’ve created. Too erotic. Too striking. And far too knowing. “Target practice with a twist, Baby Cakes. Strip shooting.”
What? She took in his shirt, jeans, belt, and boots. She knew he was wearing boxers and socks, too. Then she looked at her two-piece ensemble. “Like strip poker?”
Her mind stumbled. She hated to lose—hated it. Statistically, she was fucked. Why hadn’t she snagged a pair of his socks and put on her boots? Damn, damn, damn.
Losing to him might be all incredible orgasms and hot sex, but still, it wasn’t her thing. Not if she could help it, and right then, she needed to find another layer or two.
She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he tilted his head, and she knew he had thought about this from the moment she’d demanded a game. “Better than strip poker, Baby Cakes.”
He stood from the table and, in one Titan-sized stride, crossed over to her to grab her hand. Wasn’t the first time he’d pulled that move, but every time he did, it made her a little dizzy. Hardcore Jared was a hand holder who jumped toward her as if he couldn’t touch her fast enough. Her heart swelled, and any sassy comebacks fizzled when his thumbs caressed her knuckles.
“Better than strip poker…” She mirrored his words, but in a love-struck whisper. Everything was better with Jared. Didn’t he know that?
She bit her lips to keep from sharing anything and everything that would ruin the moment. She had only a finite amount of time before this fantasy life would pop like a bubble, and she wanted to float in the clouds with him for as long as possible.
Hands knitted together, they headed into his garage. It was everything she would’ve guessed. Expansive and expensive, it housed trucks and SUVs that somehow mimicked Jared. Tough. Dark. Mysterious. Some of the vehicles were blacked out, from windows to headlights to car emblems. Some dared her to touch the gleaming chrome, while others were jacked ceiling high with lift kits and big tires that would make a country boy cream his pants. Collectively, all intimidated at a standstill, very much like their owner.
“Come on, Sugar. Nothing to see here.”
His four-wheeled assembly certainly wasn’t as modest as he was.
“Take me for a ride in one of these babies.” She grabbed another glance over her shoulder as he tugged her along. His steering wheels were calling her name. Gas pedals were begging for a little floor action.
He chuckled but kept moving. “All in due time.”
The fabric of her shirt swayed over her breasts. His handhold gripped tighter, and she dropped the garage distractions from her mind and concentrated on strip shooting—on winning.
You can do this. She could triumph, two articles of clothes and all. He might be an amazing shot in the field, but she lined up at a range to test weapons every single day. She could handle the boring conditions of a practice lot with precision and finesse.
Target.
Focus.
Bull’s-eye.
With Titan Group, his only job requirement was to stay alive. He could make a kill shot when needed. But kill shots weren’t tests of accuracy, just effective ways to survive.
He pulled her close before they walked through a closed door. “What are you smiling at? You’re about to lose.”
“I’m a damn good shot. You might lose all your clothes before I lose either piece of mine.”
An eyebrow rose. “Either?”
“Nothing under these pants.”
“Damn,” he growled and opened the door. “Welcome to my little bit of relaxation.”
“Holy shit, Jared.” Talk about a dream range. His house was tactical, but this range was beyond impressive. Technically advanced, it had every gunslinger bell and whistle she could’ve come up with.
“What?”
Her eyes had gone wide, and she couldn’t tamp down her admiration. “Nice digs. This place is… my wet dream.”
He faked heart pains, clutching at his chest, crinkling his brow. “If that’s the case, I have some work to do.”
She shoved his shoulder. “You know what I mean. This is sweet. This whole place is… damn, just mind blowing.”
He shrugged, playing down the humongous mansion, the elite-forces firing range, and the fancy-schmancy car garage he’d just strolled them through. Humble and Jared were two words never pinned together, but there they were. His eyes twinkled, and he squeezed her hand again.
“Glad you like it.” He walked them toward a table and workbench. A cloth covered the display of weapons, but she could make out the shapes of various guns. “But don’t forget why you’re here.”
“To whip your ass. Get you naked. Then take advantage of you.”
“Fat chance.” His coarse laugh coated her nerves in a way that made her pray to hear it again.
“Tell me the rules, and I’ll show you how I’ll win.”
“Pick your weapons.” Like a proud papa, he beamed, taking the cover off the table, and together, they stared at the beauties that’d been lying in wait. “We’ll start easy and knock it back in twenty-five-yard increments. Every time you miss dead center, you lose your clothes. Looks like it’ll be a quick game.”
She rocked back on her bare heels and almost came when she studied the available guns. She knew two things well: sex and guns. She loved them both. Craved their feel. Their touch. And he stood there, offering her two things that she couldn’t live without.
Only Jared would combine apocalyptic sex with weapons that could make collectors drool. Rare ones. Unknowns. Military grade, elite forces only. Every one of them was special. He’d pulled every one of them from his gun vault just for her to play with. It wasn’t the sex and the guns she couldn’t live without. It was the man.
“Go on, Sugar. Check them out.”
God love him, because I sure as hell do.
“Good Lord…” Her fingers nearly vibrated with a need to slide over the cool metal and polished wood, to handle the specialty ammo, load up, and get ready for a hot range with him by her side.
“You like?” The deep timbre crashed over her in a sensual wave. It flooded her senses until all she could focus on was the firepower and the anticipation of violent explosions. “Sugar, baby?”
She nodded, her heart pounding to pull the triggers. “I like.”
He stepped closer. A wall of warm muscle pressed against her back, and he wrapped his arms around her, to grab a Golden Desert Eagle in front of her. “Now this beauty.” He took her hand in his and ran it down the barrel, smoothing her fingers against the polished gunmetal. “It packs a punch. Gott
a hold it real tight. Because when it explodes…” He abandoned her fingers wrapped round the weapon to caress her wrist, crawling up her forearm.
Fireworks ignited as he trailed slowly. The hair on her arm stood, her skin prickled, and a swirling of need pooled between her legs. Jared moved to her shirt, his palm teasing her breast. “You feel the reverberations across your chest.” He tweaked her nipple through the shirt. “All the way to here.”
He dropped his hand and closed the minute distance between their bodies. His erection pressed against her backside, and he flexed his hips. Once. Twice. Oh, hell…
Her heart pounded. Jared’s plan to win included a vicious lesson in the art of distraction. It was working, her concentration was slipping, and she tried to compartmentalize her arousal. “I know what it feels like to shoot a high-powered handgun.”
“Do you now? How about this one?” He reached farther onto the display table, crushing against her. His breath tickled her ear, and, compartmentalization be damned, a full body shiver rocked from the nape of her neck to her toenails. His motives were clear. Caging her between his hard-on and a battery of firepower was a move only he knew would be so effective.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she absorbed the moment. His every muscle had muscles. He personified safety and security—an impenetrable force, designed to be solid and wide, ripped top to bottom. His sinewy strength was so evident that she didn’t even need to look to see his sheer power. She could feel it all the way to her core.
His cock pressed through the rough fabric of his pants and the soft cotton of hers. His hips grazed her sore cheeks, sparking vivid memories of him slapping her until she came. The memory and friction made her moan, arching against his touch.
He bit her earlobe as he brought an assault rifle from the far edge of the table. “Feeling it now, aren’t you, baby? You’ll think of me every time you sit down, stand up. Every time you shimmy into those tight leather pants you wear. That soreness will burn, and you’ll be wet for me.”
She took a deep breath and locked her gaze to the rifle. “That’s an M4 Carbine. Gas operated. Magazine fed. Selective fire.”
He bit her lobe again, then trailed his lips down her neck. His tongue flicked out, and his teeth nibbled. “Smart girl. You’re on to my game. I’ll do whatever it takes to distract you.”
“Whatever it takes?”
“No matter how good a shot you are, you can’t hit bull’s-eye creaming yourself, shaking for your next climax.” He took her hands again, gliding them over the textured grip of the impressive rifle. “So much power. Almost too much kickback for a little girl like you to handle. But I bet you can tame this beast.”
“Course I can.” Her pulse pounded erratically. Her lungs burned as if he’d squeezed her breathless.
“Of course you can,” he mimicked in a whisper that made her pussy shout for attention.
“I’m onto your distraction techniques, Jared.”
He ignored her words, but not her body.
“You hold it here.” His fingers lagged across her chest, massaging each perky mound. The sensation made her womb clench. Just as her ragged breaths sounded more like gasps, he moved on and arrived at the sweet spot where she would press the butt of a rifle.
“Now you’re just trying to drive me crazy.”
“With every little noise you try to hide from me, Sugar, I know it’s working.”
He lingered, teasing her control, then went lower, to the hem of the too-big shirt, and ducked under to press against her bare skin. Calloused hands roughly fanned over the width of her stomach, drawing circles around her belly button.
“Might be working,” she whispered. “A little.”
“A little, huh?” His hand slipped beneath the rolled waistband of her pants, and then he took his time, paying homage to the parts of her that begged for his devotion. “When you pull the trigger, I bet you’ll feel it here, where you’re already so sweet, so swollen, and so goddamn soaked.”
“This isn’t fair, Jared.” Her betraying body abandoned her I’m-going-to-win attitude and rocked in motion with his hand, against the friction that she needed. If he would only give her just a little more. A little more…
His deep laugh rumbled against the top of her ear. “Didn’t say anything about this game being fair, Baby Cakes.”
Come on, Sugar. You can do this. She prayed her game face wasn’t a joke and sucked in a pathetic breath, wriggling out of his hold. “Let’s put lead downrange.”
A suggestive smile tugged at his cheeks. “Love when you talk guns. It’s almost as good as when you talk dirty.”
She squeezed her legs together, but the pulsing need didn’t disappear. “Prepare to lose, Jared.”
“We’ll see.” He selected a custom .45 and walked to a waiting target. With a wink, he casually took a shot. It hit far off course. “Damn, whoops.” He tore off his shirt with one hand and tossed it at her.
Ass… But what a chest. Broad and chiseled. Perfectly formed. Huge gun hanging in his hand and a cocky smile dangling off his face, he looked like an action hero.
“You’re staring.” He stretched, on purpose for sure.
She’d seen him without a shirt often enough that it shouldn’t have affected her like that. Her eyes trailed from the fantastic planes of his shoulders and lingered over the smattering of dark, coarse hair that disappeared behind the fly of his pants.
“You missed that on purpose.”
He tilted his head. “Looks like my strategy is working.”
Following his gaze, she looked at her hands. They were practically trembling. Can he see that? No way. He was in her head, though, and his game was working. “Nah. No chance, Boss Man.”
“Bullshit, pretty girl.”
Throwing back her shoulders, holding her chin high, she smirked and took the gun from him. “I’ll shoot whatever you shoot. And I’ll hit better than you.”
Oh, Sugar, tough talk when you’re losing your mind. There was a serious chance that one wild kiss would make her fall apart in climax. She was too high-strung and too turned on.
He leaned back against a wall and watched. The scrutiny worked over her body, wrapping around her as though he was swaddling her in rough velvet. Ignore him.
She took aim at her target and ordered her breaths to regulate, but they ignored her. Instead, she zoned out and fought to find their irregular pattern. The concentration, the desire to win, burned almost as much as the need for his touch.
She shoved her earplugs in as Jared’s mouth started moving. She knew he was talking, taunting. If she wanted, she could’ve heard him, but she decided to block him out. Her finger caressed the sleek trigger, and the surrounding world dissolved into a haze.
Sugar pictured the shot. She melded with the weapon. Dead center was hers for the taking.
Steady and… fire.
Center target, destroyed. A whoosh of breath flew from her lips, and her hands shook. “See, J-dawg? Easy.”
He hit a button on the wall. The targets flew up, and he replaced them with fresh ones. With another punch of the button, they zoomed back, much farther than twenty-five yards. He snagged a Ruger P95 from the table. “You game?”
“Always.” Her voice sounded a lot more sultry than she’d meant it to. Good.
He rolled his head, cracking his neck as he drew up to the line. His back was tan. Muscles cascaded down, creating a beautiful column of masculine splendor. She wanted to kiss him and walk her hands down his back to feel how—a brilliant thought worked into her hormone-overloaded brain. She should distract him this time.
She slinked behind him and looped her fingers into his belt loops. She still wanted to taste the salt of his skin and drink in his delicious scent, and she would, but her motives were more tactical than need-driven. But not by much.
Jared pulled an earplug out of one ear and turned to look over his shoulder. “You mind?”
“Just ignore me.” Her tongue ran down the length of his shoulder blade. “Playi
ng offense, if you don’t mind.”
She licked again and saw a chill prickle his skin. Her hand smoothed on his heated flesh. Her fingernails scratched his stomach, and she made a fist around the buckle of his belt.
“I can shoot like this. No problem.” He didn’t sound as confident as his words.
“So do it, tough guy.”
She felt him ready for the shot, knew when he was about to pull the trigger. Three, two, one. He pulled the trigger as her hand dropped and cupped his length through his pants.
The shot hit off target, and that time, he had been trying. She giggled.
“Not fair, Baby Cakes.”
“Oh, life’s not fair.” She undid the buckle of his pants and pulled. Every time the tail end of the belt skipped through a loop, it made a noise that echoed in the charged air between them. “I like strip shooting.”
Their game went back and forth. He shot, dead center. She shot, dead center. A miss and a miss. Her shirt was gone. He’d kicked off both boots and socks when he’d missed outside the tiny center ring.
And they were tied. Her rolled sweatpants to his tented boxer shorts. As he readied to shoot, her mind raced. Arousal and adrenaline flooded her senses, scorching her body. She’d never been so turned on.
Shirtless and with his baggy pants hanging on her hipbones, she brushed behind him, purposely rubbing her bare breasts against his back.
“Tease,” he said, sounding unaffected.
“Throw the game, Jared. Take the loss and then take me. I can’t wait.”
“Hush, pretty girl. Won’t go down that easy.”
“I’ll go down that easy.” She laughed, amused that the line had come to her. “Don’t you want my mouth around you?”
His concentration could melt gunmetal. He wasn’t listening or half-assing it. Her mind raced. Everything about them. About that moment. About how he’d put the game together just for her. She shook with a want for him that she couldn’t control. Her fantasies about their future together had felt so right, but then he irritated the piss out of her, ignoring her half-naked body. So he could what? Win? Hell. That was exactly why.
No man in the world could compete with Jared. No man could compare, and she was done playing games.
The Titan Series 1-3 Boxed Set Page 75