by Rachel Lacey
“Need you so bad,” he mumbled into her mouth.
She clutched at his shoulders, grinding herself against him. “Too many clothes.”
Next thing he knew, she was fumbling with the button of his jeans. The hiss of his zipper being lowered made everything inside him heat up. Then they were scrambling, frantic, until their clothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor around them. He held the condom from his wallet in his right fist. “Here or the couch?” he asked.
“Here,” she said, reaching for his cock and giving it a firm stroke. “And hurry.”
“My fucking pleasure.” He ripped open the packet, sheathed himself, and lifted her, bracing her against the wall. She reached between them to position his cock, and he lowered her inch by inch until his full length was nestled inside her.
She closed her eyes, and the look on her face was so exquisite that he almost came just from watching her. Need rose inside him like a crescendo, as if he’d just stepped onstage for the encore after the biggest performance of his life and the noise and the energy from the crowd hit him with that shock wave of adrenaline that always made him hard as steel.
He pinned her against the wall, pounding into her while she clung to his shoulders. She bounced in his arms as her breathing grew ragged and her eyes fluttered shut the way they always did right before she came. Good thing too, because his balls felt like they were about to explode.
“Yes!” Jenn cried out as her grip on his shoulders tightened.
She wiggled her hips, driving him impossibly deeper inside her, and her mouth fell open in soundless pleasure as her body clamped down on his. The look on her face was his undoing. He pounded into her so hard and fast that the hall filled with the sounds of their bodies moving together, the slap of skin and the thump of her back against the wall. She moaned, her body squeezing his cock with each wave of her release.
“So good,” he gritted as his balls drew up and the burning pressure of his orgasm gathered at the base of his cock. She clamped down on him again, and he broke. His hips pistoned out of control as he poured himself into her. He dropped his head to her shoulder, gasping for air.
Slowly, he lowered them to the ground. Jenn clung to him, panting, her cheeks flushed with the afterglow of pleasure. He sat there, bare-assed on the cold hardwood floor with her in his lap, until they’d caught their breath. “Time to take this upstairs,” he said finally.
“Agreed.” She climbed to her feet.
He followed, making a quick pit stop in the downstairs bathroom to get rid of the condom. They walked upstairs hand in hand and rolled onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Here, they slowed down to enjoy all the kissing and caressing they’d foregone downstairs in their frantic scramble for release. They touched and kissed until they were both on fire for each other again, as strong and urgent as it had been downstairs in the foyer.
When he rolled on the condom, he was as desperate for her as ever. He bent his head and kissed her, stroking his tongue against hers as he sank inside her. He managed to keep their rhythm slow this time so that they could savor every movement. She came first, shouting out his name as her release carried him straight into his own.
Afterward, they lay together in bed. Her head was on his chest, one of her legs nestled between his. He’d never been much of a cuddler, but this was something he could get used to. They lay like that until his pulse slowed and his eyes grew heavy.
“Cole,” she whispered in the darkness.
“Yeah, babe?”
“It happened again today.”
“What did?” He tightened his arm around her waist because there was something fragile in her tone.
“I heard a noise that sounded like gunfire, and I just…zoned out. I had a flashback.”
“I’m so sorry.” He slid his other arm around her, cradling her in his arms as his heart squeezed painfully. “When? Tonight at the club?”
She shook her head against his chest. “Earlier, while I was walking to my hair appointment. It was a jackhammer. I lost it over a construction site.”
“You didn’t lose it. You have PTSD or something from what you went through. Anyone would.”
“That night, in Vegas, when the shooting started…I thought it was a joke at first. Like, my brain just couldn’t fully process what was happening. It felt so surreal.”
“I have to imagine that a lot of people react that way,” he said. “You never really think it’s going to happen to you.”
“I wasn’t even that scared when we started running. We were just following the crowd. I stumbled.” She paused, and her breath caught.
He held her, heart in his throat at whatever she was about to say.
“The girl in front of me…the back of her head just exploded. Blood and…stuff…went all over me. And she just dropped dead. If I hadn’t stumbled at that exact moment…”
“Shit.” His arms tightened around her. If she hadn’t stumbled, it would have been Jenn. “That’s a hell of a thing.”
“It is,” she whispered. “After we got out of there, after we were safe, I felt so guilty at first. That girl died because I tripped. I never even saw her face.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said fiercely, clinging to her as if the strength of his embrace could fix this for her, even as he knew that it couldn’t. “She died because a madman opened fire on a crowd of innocent people.”
“I know that. I do. Once I got home to New York and had time to process everything, I kind of felt like this was my wakeup call, you know? My second chance. I’d been waiting around for the perfect moment to take the plunge into songwriting, and what if I’d died that night in Vegas? I never would have even tried to accomplish my dreams. I want this career, and I want to get married and start a family.”
You are married, he almost blurted. But their relationship was only temporary, and she wanted the whole fairy-tale happily ever after.
“I feel like that night was a turning point for me,” she said softly.
“I get that.”
“Performing with you—or anyone—was never part of my plan.”
“Okay.” It was ridiculous for him to feel disappointed. It had never been part of his plan either. Except that somehow, it had become one.
“But maybe part of grabbing hold of my life this year means taking a few unexpected leaps.”
* * *
The following evening, Jenn dropped her bag on the table by the door and walked into the living room. “I’ve decided I want to visit the shooting range.”
Cole craned his head, looking at her as if she’d just expressed a desire to fly to the moon. “Say what now?”
“I saw my therapist this morning, and she said I needed to regain a feeling of power over what happened. Going to the gun range is probably an unorthodox way of doing it, but it works for me. I want to hold a gun, fire it, let that sound be part of something that I have control over instead of something that frightens me.”
“Holy shit, Jenn, that’s—”
“Crazy?” Her lips turned up in a smile as she dropped onto the couch beside him.
“A little bit, yeah.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “But I like your brand of crazy. Mind if I tag along?”
“I’d like that.” She slid into his lap, straddling him. “Have you ever fired a gun?”
“Does a BB gun count?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“I guess we’ll find out. Want me to ask around and make the arrangements?”
“Sure, yeah.”
A little knife of worry dug into her stomach at the thought of holding and firing a gun, but she’d committed to the idea, and she wasn’t backing down. She had no doubt the experience was going to be terrifying, but she hoped to leave feeling stronger and more empowered, maybe even brave.
Her confidence had wavered yet more by the following afternoon, though. Cole had scheduled them a gun safety class with supervised time at the shooting range that evening. She glanced at her watch as she sat
at the computer in Kate’s office, scheduling social media posts through the weekend.
“I’m heading out,” Kate said from the doorway. She wore jeans and a snug-fitting gray top that highlighted her rounded belly. Almost overnight, she’d gone from being able to conceal her bump under loose-fitting clothes to…not. “I’ve already taken the dogs out so just lock up when you’re finished.”
“Okay,” Jenn said with a nod, her eyes darting to the time on the screen. “I’m going to work here until it’s time for my class.”
“You sure this is a good idea?” Kate asked, her blue eyes narrowing.
“Yeah. It’s something I need to do.”
“Well, don’t think of it as quitting if you decide to walk out either. Listen to your gut, okay?”
“I will. What about you—still no idea where Josh is taking you?”
Kate gave an exasperated sigh, even as a dreamy smile crossed her face. “No. You know how he is.”
Josh had a habit of taking Kate on surprise getaways—especially when he thought she needed to get away from the stress of celebrity life. Since the day Jenn had found her curled up on the couch, Kate had lightened her schedule as much as it was possible for a workaholic like her to do and not go stir-crazy. Josh was helping to distract her by taking her out for romantic picnics and dates away from the hustle and bustle, and once he was finished teaching next week, they planned to spend the summer at her house in Malibu, relaxing. Jenn expected to receive a barrage of texts and emails from Kate, who was sure to be thinking about her upcoming schedule even while on vacation.
Jenn would be flying out there herself the second week of July. Kate was performing at MadFest, a multi-artist radio station concert—her last scheduled public performance before the baby arrived. Cole would be performing there too, and they would be singing their duet together. The event was at an outdoor concert venue, and it was huge. It would be the ultimate test of whether or not Jenn had gotten over her phobia of concert crowds.
She said goodbye to Kate and finished up her work, keeping one eye on the clock. A few minutes after four, her phone buzzed with an incoming text.
I’m outside. It was from Cole.
I’ll be right down. She shut off the computer, gathered her things, and locked up Kate’s condo before heading for the elevator. Her stomach felt like she’d swallowed a porcupine—tight and prickly. When she pushed out the front door onto Central Park West, she saw Cole’s driver, Steven, in his black Lincoln Town Car idling at the curb and hustled over to climb inside.
“You ready for this?” he asked, leaning over to give her a kiss.
“As I’ll ever be.” She clutched his hand. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Are you kidding?” He gave her a warm smile, flipping their hands to give hers a squeeze. “I couldn’t let you do this by yourself, and besides, I’m interested to learn some gunmanship myself.”
She managed a smile in spite of the porcupine still lodged in her stomach. They were mostly quiet as they drove over the Queensboro Bridge onto Long Island, where Cole had booked their class. Their appointment time wasn’t until five, but they’d planned to arrive early so Jenn could hang out in the lobby and acclimate herself to the sound of gunfire. Maybe she ought to go sit there every afternoon until the sound had lost its trigger factor for her.
Steven pulled up outside the gun range at four forty-five. Cole gave her hand another squeeze as they got out of the car. From the outside, it looked like a nondescript metal-sided warehouse. Nothing scary about it. This was going to be totally fine.
Cole kept her hand in his as they went inside. She stopped just inside the door, gulping a deep breath as she looked around. There was a desk in front of them where they would sign in, a seating area to the left, and on the right, an enormous gun display case behind a counter staffed by a large man in a logoed shirt with a no-nonsense expression on his face. Surprisingly, the sight of the guns didn’t affect her at all. She looked at them with curiosity, surprised to see the number of rifles and assault weapons available for rent.
Pop.
Her heart jumped like she’d touched a live wire, sending a jolt through her body.
Pop. Pop.
Gunfire. So loud. So close. Her mind filled with screams. All around her, people were running for their lives, but she couldn’t get her legs to move…
“Jenn,” Cole’s voice filtered in. “We’re at the gun range, remember? You’re safe. I’m with you.”
The gun range. She forced her eyes open. The lobby came into view. The man behind the counter was giving her a concerned look. Her heart was racing, and cold sweat slicked her body.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
“Let’s sit down,” Cole said, guiding her toward a row of chairs along the far wall. She sat, and he rubbed a hand up and down her back. “Deep breaths.”
She realized she was gasping like a fish out of water. With effort, she sucked in a breath, held it, and blew it out. And again. And again. The ringing in her ears lessened, and the spots cleared from her vision.
Pop. Pop-pop-pop.
The shots continued, so loud that her whole body jerked with each one. Her heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest, and panic gripped her in its cold, clammy hands.
“It’s just people practicing their marksmanship, baby,” he murmured in her ear. “You’re perfectly safe, and I’m right here beside you.”
She nodded, continuing to suck in slow, deep breaths while her ears rang with the sound of gunfire. “I must look like a total crazy person right now.”
“No, you don’t, and for the record, I told them why you were doing this when I booked the appointment.”
She gave him an exasperated look.
He shrugged. “Seemed like an important thing for them to know. Our instructor is Sam Something-or-other. I expect he’ll be out shortly to get us.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she whispered, looking down at her shoes.
“We can leave any time you want,” Cole said, nudging his knee against hers. “No judgment from me or anyone else. But remember, we start with the class part, so you aren’t going to be firing a gun just yet.”
“Right.” She blew out another breath.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
She felt each blast in the pit of her stomach, but she was completely present in the lobby of the gun range. No flashbacks. No panic. She could do this.
A petite woman with a long blonde ponytail and a don’t-mess-with-me attitude strode toward them across the lobby. “Mr. Nix?” she asked, looking at Cole. She was dressed from head to toe in black, from her shoes to her logoed T-shirt.
“That’s me.” He stood to shake her hand. “And this is my wife, Jenn.”
Jenn rose to her feet, pleased to find that her legs were steady and solid beneath her.
“Sam Fiore,” the woman said, extending her hand toward Jenn. Her grip was surprisingly strong as they shook.
“Oh,” Jenn said blankly. “You’re our instructor.”
Sam nodded. “If you two will follow me, I have some paperwork for you to fill out, and then we’ll get started.”
They followed her down the hall behind the reception desk and into a small classroom. Sam closed the door behind them, which did little to muffle the sound of gunfire.
“This is the first time either of you will be shooting a weapon?” she asked as she handed them each a stack of forms to fill out.
Jenn nodded as she took her paperwork and sat at one of the many desks in the room to fill it out. Cole sat next to her. “Never was a very good student,” he whispered conspiratorially.
After they’d completed their paperwork, Sam went over the basics for what they’d be covering today, including gun handling and shooting fundamentals. They learned that she was a former NYPD officer—which explained the badass attitude—who’d left the force last year after being injured in the line of duty. She’d lost hearing in one ear, which made it dangerous for her to be out on p
atrol, unable to determine the directionality of noises around her.
“Ready?” Sam asked after she’d finished speaking.
“Yeah,” Jenn answered, feeling much calmer and more confident than she had when they’d first walked in the door nearly an hour ago.
Sam walked to a case at the back of the classroom, unlocked it, and removed a black handgun. “This is the Glock 19. It’s a compact semiautomatic and a good gun to get your feet wet, so to speak. This one’s not loaded, but even so, you never point it at anyone, understood?”
Jenn nodded, her eyes locked on the gun in Sam’s hands. It was small and didn’t look particularly intimidating. She listened attentively as Sam manipulated the gun, showing them how to hold it, check the magazine, load it, and fire it. She handled the weapon with confidence and ease.
“Your turn,” she said at length, holding the gun toward Jenn, butt out and aimed at the floor.
“Okay.” Jenn reached out and gripped it. “Wow. It’s heavier than I expected.”
“A lot of people say that,” Sam said with a brisk nod. “Solid steel, you know?”
“Yeah.” Jenn settled the gun in her hand the way Sam had shown her, feeling its solid weight against her palm. Okay. This was fine.
They went over care and handling of the gun for both her and Cole, and then it was time to walk out onto the range and fire it.
“You ready for this?” Cole murmured in her ear.
“Yep.” She put on her eye and ear protection and added the ball cap Sam had recommended to prevent flyaway shell casings from becoming lodged between her glasses and her face.
“Trust me. You don’t want that to happen,” she’d said.
Apparently, shell casings were burning hot when they left the gun. Who knew? After more instruction and much tweaking of her form and stance, Jenn finally stood at the end of her assigned lane on the range, Sam and Cole behind her.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Sam said.
Jenn lifted the gun, aimed it at the paper target some fifty feet in front of her, and fired.