by Stacy Gail
If this made me wrong, I didn’t want to be right.
“A Glock.” He pulled the handgun out while I laid a couple ammo clips on the table. A slow smile began to appear. “Man, does this bring back memories.”
“I had no idea what I was going to find in my father’s office. You didn’t even seem surprised to see a girl springing out at you, packing heat.”
“The only thing that surprised me when you showed up was that you didn’t shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Oh, please. As if I would ever be so careless with a firearm.” With a sniff, I slid a clip into the gun, locked it in, then loaded a round in the chamber, all the while pointing the muzzle away from him. “I’ve been able to shoot the seeds off a sesame seed bun with a .9mm since I was just out of grade school.”
“Impressive. I now know who to call if I’m ever attacked by a pack of rabid hamburger buns. They’re probably hanging out with all those free-ranging gingerbread men.”
Oh, ha-ha. “My point is that I don’t think I’ll need too much practice.”
“Oh, really? You think you’re that good, do you?”
“Mind your words. I know it’s been a while since I’ve visited a shooting range, but I don’t think I’m that good. I know I am.”
“Uh-huh. Personally I’m just thankful you remembered how to load it.”
“You know, Konstantin has a theory about guns and bicycles. Fascinating stuff, you should hear it some time.”
“I can imagine.” The look those heavy-lidded eyes gave me scorched my skin, from my face all the way past my sleeveless peach blouse and cargo capris, down to my sandaled feet, and back up the same way. “You’re a gambler, right? If you’re so confident, why don’t we make this interesting?”
I perked up. “Are we talking about a friendly wager?”
“Very friendly.” He too pulled out his gun, a simple black matte Grand Power K100, and laid it beside mine. “We go five rounds, taking turns. After each round, we see whose shot is closest to the bull’s eye.”
“Okay.” I glanced down the lane to where the target hung on its motorized track, before checking the video screen set in the booth’s wall. Twenty yards. Hm. “What are the stakes?”
“It’s got to be something good. Something important. Otherwise it’s not going to feel like a gamble.”
“So I guess the loser picking up the tab at Waffle House isn’t an option?”
“I’ve got something better in mind.”
“Better than waffles? Now this I’ve got to hear.”
“I think you’ll be interested.” He raised a gentle hand to brush my hair back behind my ear, and the intimate gesture made my stomach flip-flop in the most delicious way. “After each round, the loser has to undo an article of clothing.”
A flash of delicious heat burned through me, and I could practically feel my eyes dilate. “Strip...shooting?” That was a new one.
“We might be alone, Fearless, but we’re still in public. I’m not suggesting anything that would be humiliating to you.”
“Or to you. I am a very good shot, you know.” As I spoke, I looked him over and imagined all the lovely, lovely things that could be undone. First and foremost, I’d most definitely go for the front of his jeans... “Does the winner get to choose what piece of clothing that gets to be undone?”
“Sure, if that’s how you want it.”
Lord help me, I could not drag my gaze away from his fly. It was like a naughty-girl eye magnet. “Definitely.”
“All right, deal.” He turned to glance at the video screen. “You want me to bring the target closer in for you?”
“No.” My pride shot off an answer before my logic could get its booty in gear. Ugh. Stupid pride. “Who goes first?”
“Ladies first.” He reached for some earphones and glasses and held them out. “Gear up, Fearless.”
Less than a minute later I stood on my mark, protective gear in place, gun leveled. It had been a while since I’d done this sort of thing, but I was perfectly at ease with the familiar weight of the .9mm in my hand. What didn’t make me at ease was the thoroughly masculine, attention-sucking presence of Polo standing directly behind me. Honestly, even if I were in a coma I was sure I’d still be aware of that man wherever he was...
“So, are you going to pull the trigger at some point this week?”
The comment was loud enough to filter in through the earphones, and my rising arousal deflated like a balloon losing all its air with a rude sound. So much for that, I thought wryly before I adjusted my shooter’s stance, took aim and pulled the trigger.
Meh.
I’d had better shots in my life. It wasn’t bad, near the center of the target, just slightly up and to the right. Considering I hadn’t been to the practice range in over a year, I figured I should feel lucky that I hit the target.
“Not bad,” I heard through my protective gear as we switched places. “Beatable, though.”
“I’m just warming up.”
“Uh-huh.” He adjusted his protective glasses and picked up his K100. “What’s that like? I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, so you’re always awesome, are you?”
“Pretty much.” He got into his stance and fired, seemingly without bothering to take the time to aim. Shocked at his casual speed, I looked down the lane at the target, then at the video screen to double-check what my eyes were telling me.
Yep.
He’d hit within the area of the bull’s eye.
“Holy shit.” Seriously, it had to be said. “How’d you do that?”
“Didn’t you just say I’m always awesome?”
“There has to be a secret to it.”
“Maybe I practice shooting seeds off of hamburger buns.”
“It’s like you’re unaware I have a loaded gun.”
“Ooh, I’m scared. Now,” he went on, ignoring my indignant huff, “let’s see what I want undone first. Damn, this is better than opening a present at Christmas.”
All at once, my throat slammed shut and my deflated awareness rebounded so fast I got dizzy. I set my secured gun aside, then stepped back as much as the acoustic-tiled booth would allow, hands up. “A deal’s a deal. What do you want me to undo?”
He looked me up and down, and everywhere his eyes touched, I tingled with invisible fire. Lord have mercy. This was going to be so good.
“Let’s go with your right sandal.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
I didn’t move. Truly, my shock was that great. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”
“You heard me.”
“You want me to undo...my shoe?” Geez, maybe his personal kink really did have something to do with feet.
“When you have a feast laid out before you, you don’t go straight for the dessert. You savor every little bite along the way before you get to the big finish. So yeah. Undo your fucking right shoe.”
“That’s a good theory,” I muttered, peeved, as I bent to undo the buckle on my sandal. It was useless now that it was undone, so I kicked the whole thing off with more force than necessary. “That whole feast thing you’re talking about. But you’re obviously assuming you’re going to win another bite. For all you know, this is the only taste you’re going to get, and you just blew it on a stupid shoe.”
“I didn’t blow anything. Bite by bite, this feast is... all... mine.” With a smile so cocky it should have been illegal, he swept a hand toward the lane. “Your turn.”
The next round didn’t go any better than the first, and I lost my other shoe.
The third round was almost identical; this time my shot went wide left, landing right on the outline of the bull’s eye in a fit of overcompensation. For that, he had me undo my blouse’s single button at my nape.
Geez.
My frustration edged higher, and it was only in part because I was losing so badly. Didn’t the man suffer the same hunger that I did whenever we were together? Didn’t he fee
l any urgency for closeness? Skin-to-skin closeness? Groping closeness?
Fucking closeness?
The evidence said no. No, he did not.
Damn it.
The fourth round was close. I hit right next to one of his dead-center shots, so I had a good feeling I had this one in the bag. Then, almost without looking, he placed one right in the absolute center of the bull’s eye, where the crosshairs met.
Gah. So frustrating!
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Setting our secured guns aside once more, Polo turned to face me with those unwavering dark eyes. “Unhook your bra. And keep your eyes on me while you do it.”
At the words, my mind went blank and the grinding irritation vanished as if it had never been.
About damn time this game got interesting.
“I know you said this wasn’t like strip poker, and I appreciate that. Stripping in public isn’t an item you’re ever going to find on my bucket list.” As I spoke, I reached behind my back and felt through the paper-thin peach material of the keyhole-backed blouse. “But the thing is, you’re a guy. And as a guy, you have no freaking clue how uncomfortable these damn boobie prisons are.”
“Boobie prisons?” Though there was a hint of laughter in his tone, his eyes remained dark and almost savagely intense as he stared blatantly at my chest. “Did you really just say that?”
“Hell yeah, I did, because that’s what bras are and every woman knows it. I mean, these torture devices are bad enough when they’re appropriately fastened. But they’re impossible to endure when they come undone under your clothes.” The catch gave way, and with a shrug I pulled a strap through the blouse’s armhole, then pulled the entire lacy undergarment through the other armhole. With my whole body sighing in relief, I dropped my bra onto my bag and did a happy little freedom shimmy. And all the while his eyes were on my breasts now veiled in tissue-thin fabric. Too bad it wasn’t white. He would have been able to see the darkness of my nipples instead of just faint outlines. “Ah, there we go. The girls have officially been sprung from boobie prison. Feels so much better, you have no idea.”
“I’ll second the better part, that’s for damn sure.” His voice was gratifyingly rough, and his chest heaved with an audible breath before he dragged his heated gaze back to mine. “Your turn, beautiful.”
When he looked at me like that, I actually felt beautiful.
To my delight I won the fifth and final round, but that might have been because I brushed the tips of my breasts against his arm as he got into his stance. The feather-light touch didn’t alter his shot any, but it did obliterate his concentration.
“Cheat.” He sent a look over his shoulder at me that was so gloriously hot it made my head swim.
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” I leaned in close, pulled the earphone slightly off his ear, and trotted out my best sultry voice. “But I’m a big believer in fairness, baby, so you get to choose what happens next. You can either end this game now and find out what I desperately want you to undo, or...you can get a do-over for the fifth round. Choose carefully now.”
“You really are your father’s daughter, you know that?”
“Since I know you cared for my papa a great deal, I’ll take that as a compliment. Have you made up your mind which one you want more?”
“Yeah. I want both.”
I had to laugh. “Now who’s acting like Borysko Vitaliev?”
“If that means you know I’m going to get what I want, then yeah, I’ll cop to that. I want both, so I’m going to get both.”
“If you insist.” I stepped up to the mark but didn’t take my position. Instead I kept my eyes trained on him, because I didn’t want to miss a moment of this. “Undo your pants, Polo.”
Immediately his hand went to his belt buckle. “That’s my Fearless. Going right for the dessert.”
“It is the best part.”
“You know it. What I got right here for you really is the best part.”
God, there wasn’t a better sound than a belt buckle being loosened or a fly unzipping. There just wasn’t. “So you say.”
“If you don’t believe me now, you will soon. I guarantee it.”
“That sounds like a guarantee any woman would want.” I couldn’t keep my eyes from lowering to what his hands were doing. My throat went dry at the obvious bulge pushing through the V-shaped opening that his undone fly made. He was a boxer-brief man, so the outline of his erection was wonderfully apparent through the form-fitting material. Damn, now I could see why he felt so comfortable in offering guarantees. “Okay, so...now what?”
“It’s time for the do-over, yeah?” He gestured toward the target. “Your turn.”
“Right. My turn.” It was a good thing there was no one else in the entire facility, because at that moment I was probably the last person in the world who should have been handling a firearm, I was so distracted. I had to take a moment to remember where the safety was and how to aim before I squeezed the trigger for the final time. When my turn was over I barely took note of where my last shot hit before I tugged off the earphones and glasses, and set them aside. “It’s all yours.”
“Damn right it is.” He also ditched his protective gear, but as I was about to step out of the way to pack up my gun, he stopped me and turned me back toward the lane. He put his front to my back, his arms coming around me and his hands sliding over mine to level the gun I still held. “This is going to count as my final shot. You ready?”
Nothing in the world could have stopped me from leaning back into his warmth. “Born that way.”
“Don’t I know it.” His finger moved over mine, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder. He turned so that his mouth was tantalizingly close to my ear, and I shivered as his breath whispered over my skin like a caress. “Here comes the boom.”
His finger tightened over mine as he squeezed the trigger. The target moved, and I didn’t have to look at the screen to verify that he’d gotten another bull’s eye. He was Scorpio, after all, and he’d proven time and again that he knew his way around a gun.
I was also fairly certain he knew his way around a woman.
More than anything, I wanted to find that out.
“I win.” He’d moved closer so that his mouth was grazing my ear when he spoke, and it was enough to make me want to shiver. I managed to stifle it, but when his teeth closed in on my lobe, there was no stopping the shudder of need that went through me, and I didn’t even care that he felt it. “I want my prize, Dasha. I want my prize in ways you can’t imagine. You gonna give it to me?”
“You’ve earned it.” I clicked the safety on and set the gun aside, freeing my hands to do any damn thing he wanted. “What do you want undone?”
“You. I want you totally undone. Unraveled. Coming apart at the seams.” His hands left mine to land on the flare of my hips. Then he moved them around to my stomach under my loose blouse, following the waistline of my cargo capris so he could undo them, giving me all the time in the world to stop him.
The thought never crossed my mind.
Instead, as he pushed his way past the loosened material and under the hem of the thong I wore to explore my inner folds, I deliberately rolled my bottom against the hard thrust of his sex.
A low growl, almost a purr, sounded from him. “I’m going to make you come, Fearless. I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll never forget how good I can make you feel. And after today, you’ll never stop aching for me to make you feel that good again.”
Just the thought was enough to make my pulse skyrocket. “Sounds like another guarantee.”
“Absolutely, or your money back.”
“I somehow thought our getting together would happen with rose petals, candlelight and Barry White in the background but this...” My words vanished in a gasp as his fingers slid into my cleft. A shock of vivid pleasure knifed through me, blooming out from my clit that he’d just grazed to spill into every cell of my body. “But this...this is so much mo
re appropriate—more us—than candlelight. Do that again.”
“You didn’t say the magic word, so now you’ll have to wait.” While his one hand learned his way around my intimate folds, his other hand was on the move. My blouse was no barrier at all as he slipped underneath it, his touch burning along my skin. My nerves caught fire wherever he explored, as though my entire system reveled in being beneath Polo’s hands. He slid up my belly, along the ladder of my rib cage, before he at last claimed a breast.
Thank God I ditched the boobie prison beforehand.
“You’re perfect. The most fucking perfect woman who ever existed.” His palm cupped the underside of my breast while his greedy fingers stroked their way to my sensitive nipple, and I couldn’t stop myself from arching into his touch when he teased it to pebble-hardness. Damn, that felt good. So good I pressed a hand over his through the veil of my shirt, while the dampness between my thighs grew hotter. “Feel how well you fit my hand—like you were made for me. Say it, Dasha. Tell me you were made for me.”
“I was made for you.” My other hand needed something to do, so I sent it behind me to pull his hip closer while I rubbed my bottom into the curve of his body. The thrust of his cock was harder than ever, impressing the hell out of me. There was so much to him that I doubted what I was feeling, so on instinct I redirected my hand between us to find out what the reality of him actually was. Before I got to my goal, however, he pulled me hard against him and sandwiched my hand between our bodies.
“Touch me now, and I fucking lose it.” His voice was thrilling in its unfamiliar roughness—deep and dark and full of breathless promise. “I’ve dreamed about how this should go, every step of the way. You’re not going to spoil my fun now by hitting the fast-forward button.”
“You’ve dreamed...” His fingers at my breast tweaked and rolled my nipple while at the same time his hand below circled my clit. It was a coordinated attack on my two most vulnerable points, designed to devastate my sanity. It worked perfectly, dissolving whatever I was about to say along with any idea of trying to take control in how this unfolded.