Authors: Paige Tyler
He waited patiently while she reloaded her 9mm. Maybe she
was just nervous with him standing there. That happened sometimes.
But she didn’t do any better with the second magazine. He
wasn’t sure where her rounds went, but it sure as hell wasn’t in the target.
There was no way he could certify her. Which meant taking
her out to dinner was probably out. Damn.
* * * * *
Trista couldn't believe how hard she was having to work for
this one. She'd been drooling over the hunky Blake Jordan from the second he'd
walked in the classroom. Tall with dark hair, broad shoulders and biceps she
couldn’t get both of her hands around, he was definitely put together. And when
he talked? She'd never heard such a smooth, sexy voice in her life. It just about
made her panties melt off right there in the seat. He was a fantasy come to
life. Especially if you had a thing for cops—which she did. Combine that with
her complete lack of a social life over the past few months, and it was no
surprise she was as hot as a horny rabbit in a frying pan.
Between leaving her old job and trying to get into the swing
of things at her new one, all while moving everything she owned back to Houston
and finding a place to live, she’d been a little stressed. Seeing Blake made
her realize exactly what she needed—a roll in the hay. And not just any roll in
the hay, either. She was talking about the kind that knocked the pictures off the
wall and made your neighbors call the cops. Something told her Blake was just
the man for the job.
Unfortunately, he’d been completely professional the whole
time. Which would be a good thing if she wasn’t seriously in lust with him. She
thought for sure the way she’d worked him during class—throwing him sultry eyes
and nibbling on her pen—would do the trick, but damn if the man didn't seem
impervious to her feminine wiles. She supposed she could try the old standby
and ask if he knew a good place to get a bite to eat—besides the restaurant
across the street—but with the way things were going, Blake was likely to draw
her a strip map to the nearest steak joint.
She either had to give up on getting Blake in her bed that
night, or do something drastic to make it happen—like failing the hands-on
portion of the class so she could get some time alone with him. She hated
wasting the money for the course, but some things were more important than a
concealed carry license.
She’d never realized how hard it was to look completely
incompetent when you weren't, and had almost given up on her crazy plan a few
times. It had to be easier to grab Blake and plant a kiss on him after he
issued her license, then tell the big stud she wanted him to bang her until her
But when Blake didn’t ask her to again demonstrate her
ability to shoot at the target after she emptied the second magazine, she knew
it was too late to change her mind. She chewed on her lip as he handed out the
licenses. She hoped he didn’t embarrass her in front of the rest of the class
by announcing she’d failed. But he called everyone else’s name, leaving her
until last. And leaving them gloriously alone together.
Trista gave him a smile. “I guess that means I must be
“Yeah. About that.” He sighed. “I’m not going to be able to
sign off on your license. While you knocked the written test out of the park,
you didn’t demonstrate the required proficiency with a handgun.”
She put on her best crestfallen expression. “Oh.”
“The good news is that you can take the course again.
Unfortunately, you’ll have to pay the fee again, too. Which is why you should
probably think about taking a target shooting class first. They offer some good
ones here, if you’re interested.”
Only if he was the one doing the teaching. She chewed on her
lower lip, pretending to consider it. “Do you think you might be able to give me
a few pointers about what I'm doing wrong?”
That worked for her. “If you wouldn’t mind. I know you said
something about the range closing early tonight, but maybe the owner would let
us stay a few extra minutes?”
Blake was silent as he considered that. Finally, he nodded.
“Sure. I’ll go talk to him.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He flashed her a grin. “No problem.”
Trista sighed with relief. For a minute there, she’d been
half afraid he was going to turn her down. Just because he agreed to give her
some tips didn’t mean he was as attracted to her as she was to him, though. And
if she didn’t get a rise out of Blake? Well, at least she'd get some quality
one-on-one private shooting lessons. She had no doubt he was talented at using
She only hoped it was the kind of weapon she had in mind.
Blake came back ten minutes later. “I told Bob—the guy who
owns the place—that I’d lock up, so we can stay as long as we want.”
Which meant they were all alone. This was working out even
better than she’d planned. “Great.”
Blake glanced at her over his shoulder as he led the way to
one of the firing lines. “You seemed comfortable handling the weapon when it
was unloaded. It wasn't until you got on the line with a loaded weapon that you
started having a problem, so I think we should start there.”
Trista groaned inwardly. The possibility of romance was
dropping by the second here. Blake seriously thought she wanted a firearms
She picked up her pistol. “Should I just start shooting at
“Let's work on your stance first and get you comfortable
with the weapon. Then we'll do some shooting.”
Trista turned to face the target—feet together, pistol held
in both hands with arms fully extended at shoulder height. “Like this?”
“Not quite.” Blake lifted his hand, then stopped. “Do you
mind if I touch you? It's easier to show you than to tell you.”
Now you're talking.
“Go ahead.” She had to fight to keep the grin off her face.
“If you think it will help.”
Her pulse quickened as Blake went around to stand in back of
her. Without a word, he placed his boot in between her feet, gently nudging
them apart. When she automatically spread her legs, he slipped one of his
between her thighs to widen her stance. When she'd said she wanted Blake
between her legs, this wasn't what she'd had in mind. Not that she was
complaining. She’d take him any way she could get him.
He wrapped his arms around her and clasped her hands in his.
He was so big and strong she couldn’t help but feel tiny in his embrace, and it
was all she could do not to moan as the hard planes of his chest pressed
against her back. She knew he was only demonstrating the proper stance to help
her shoot better, but at the moment, all she really cared about was how the
contours of his body fit hers.
“See how much more stable you are in this position?” Blake’s
voice was right next to her ear. “Wider is always better.”
She couldn't agree more. “I see that now.”
Unable to help herself, she pushed her ass back until she brushed
against something firm and unyielding. She was pretty sure it wasn't his belt
“Relax your arms some,” he instructed. “Your shoulders are
She obeyed, wiggling back a little more as she let her arms
relax. This time, her ass definitely met with resistance. If that was his cock
she was rubbing up against and not a weapon of another sort, then Blake wasn't
quite as professional as he wanted her to think. Or at least a certain part of
his anatomy wasn't.
“I know you won't be able to think about breathing in a
crisis situation. But right now, let's focus on good technique.” His voice was
smooth as honey in her ear. “Take a deep breath and hold it.”
She inhaled, letting the air fill her lungs—and expand her
breasts quite nicely. From where he stood looking over her shoulder, Blake
would have had to be oblivious to miss the view down her blouse as she put on
her best heaving-bosom routine.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
He tightened his arms around her, pulling her back against
him. Oh, yeah. That was definitely his cock back there. He was getting harder
by the second.
“Now, just squeeze your finger gently on the trigger,” he
commanded. “It should surprise you when it goes off.”
She slowly pulled the trigger. The hammer fell with a
“That was perfect. You didn't flinch at all,” he said.
“Let's try it now with the clip loaded.”
Trista almost groaned in disappointment when he moved away
from her to load the magazine of her 9mm. She leaned her hip against the
counter and watched as he worked. Damn, he had some nice hands. She could just
imagine what they’d feel like roaming over her naked body.
When he was done, he held out a set of hearing protection—
the kind that cut out almost all the sound.
She frowned as she took the earmuffs. “I won't be able to
hear your instructions with these on. Shouldn’t we use the foamy things.”
His mouth quirked. “The foam earplugs, you mean? No. The
earmuffs muffle the sound better. Don’t worry. I'll be right behind you,
guiding you by touch. All you have to do is focus on the target.”
Like she was going to be able to focus on anything with him
touching her. That silly paper target positioned halfway down the shooting
range was going to be the last thing on her mind.
After he was once again standing behind her, Blake leaned
close to her ear for one last set of instructions before she put the muffs in
place. “You have a full magazine, but I want you to take your time and try to
make every shot perfect.”
She picked up her Lady Smith 9mm and sighted in on the
target. Having all that rock-hard muscle pressed up against her was even more
distracting than it’d been before, and her hands began to shake. Blake
immediately wrapped his arms around her, his hands supporting her wrists—which
only made her tremble more. The way the inside of his arms pressed against the
sides of her breasts was doing all sorts of delicious things to her body.
Trista relaxed back, subtly rubbing her ass against his
erection. Blake didn’t pull away. If anything, he tugged her a little closer.
trying to seduce her.
She forced herself to focus enough to actually aim in the
general direction of the target and squeezed out a shot. She didn't give a damn
where the bullet hit, but she did use the recoil as an excuse to bump her ass
back into Blake's hard-on. She took a breath and held it, then pulled the
trigger again. When she leaned back against him this time, she gently rotated
her ass in blatant invitation. Blake must have approved because he slid his
hands down her bare arms until his fingertips brushed the sides of her breasts.
The contact was teasing, questioning, as if he wanted to make sure this was
what she wanted.
Man, this was so what she wanted.
Keeping her pistol pointed in a safe direction, she turned
her head until their eyes met. The heat in his made her pulse skyrocket. She
wanted to say something flirty and suggestive, but she’d have to shout to be
heard over the ear protection they wore, and that wouldn’t be very sexy at all.
So instead, gaze still locked with his, she slowly and deliberately grazed his
scuff-roughened jaw line with her lips. That must have been good enough for
Blake. When she turned back to send another 9mm downrange, he slid his hands
under her breasts to cup them through her shirt. Needless to say, that round went
wide of the target. Hell, she wasn't sure she even hit the wall behind it. She
didn’t care. She was just happy he’d finally gotten the message she’d been
sending his way.
She took a deep breath, letting her breasts fill Blake's big
hands. She thought she might have moaned, but she couldn’t tell over her
earmuffs. She doubted her shooting instructor had, either. That was okay. She’d
make sure he knew exactly how much she enjoyed what he was doing later.
Behind her, Blake bent to nuzzle her neck. His mouth was
warm on her skin, and she tipped her head to the side to give him plenty of
room. Steadying the weapon, she squeezed off a lazy shot at the target and hit
it dead center. Hmm, nothing like getting her breasts fondled to improve her
She loved a man who knew how to use his mouth, and Blake
certainly fell into that category. His lips on her neck were doing crazy things
to her body, and she shivered as goose bumps chased over her skin. And when he
traced his tongue along the pulse line of her jugular all the way from her
collar bone up to her ear? Well, she just about melted. She was on the verge of
dropping her Smith and Wesson when a sharp nip of teeth brought her back to
reality. She tried to get herself under control, but she couldn't. She was
already drunk from the first little touch.
She let her head fall back, silently begging him for more.
And more was exactly what he gave her. Oh God, could a woman have a neckgasm?
If his mouth felt that good there, what was it going to feel like on her
nipples? Or her pussy? She trembled at the thought.
She was so caught up in what Blake was doing above the
collar of her shirt she almost didn’t realize he’d started unbuttoning it until
she felt cool air on her skin. Her heart beat faster. He stopped halfway from
the bottom to motion toward the target with his chin.
Trista blinked. He wanted her to keep shooting? Was he nuts?
She was so blurry-eyed from excitement she was starting to worry about their
safety. But he was insistent, nudging her again.
She lifted her 9mm and took a deep breath, doing her best to
lock her eyes on the man-shaped silhouette hanging from the cable. The task was
made more difficult by the fact that Blake had finished with the buttons on her
shirt and had wrapped his hands around her satin-covered breasts. She hadn't
thought her shirt had been that thick, but the increase in sensation let her
know that was a lie. Her nipples tightened almost painfully against her bra.