Her laugh vibrates through her chest and into mine, pulling me from the physical thoughts that have no place on a shooting range. I focus on deciphering what she finds so funny and notice she didn’t make a mark on the target at all.
“You’ve got to keep your eyes open, Beaux,” I say in her ear, earning myself a laugh and confirmation that my hunch was correct. “It doesn’t do you any good at all if you can’t see where you’re aiming.” She reins in her amusement and nods her head in silent understanding. “You want to try again?”
“Yes.”
So we go through the motions again of getting the right stance, and I swear a part of me feels like she’s drawing out the time from when our bodies are pressed close to the time when she pulls the trigger. I know it’s all in my mind, though. But having her so close is an unexpected seduction all its own.
And just when my thoughts begin to run through the memory of how her body felt wrapped around mine, she pulls the trigger and shocks the image from my mind. My conscience, guilty of nothing more than belonging to a red-blooded male, appreciates the jolt before my body starts reacting to the wayward sexual thoughts. I don’t think Beaux is likely going to appreciate having my dick hardening against her ass.
I’m telling myself I need to step away from her at the same time she lets out a little whoop over actually hitting the edge of the target. It’s the perfect distraction, and I release her hands to give us the physical space that I desperately need to prevent myself from acting like a prepubescent teenager.
“You hit paper!”
She looks over to me with a little bit of panic in her eyes. “What?” She turns her body, gun still in her hands, without thought, and I immediately step in and push her arms back toward downrange.
“Keep it pointed that way,” I instruct. Her eyes go wide with panic as she realizes what she’d almost just done. “It’s okay… Your turn to do it all by yourself. The kickback will be stronger, but you know what to expect now.”
She looks at me with an expression of uncertainty, but my only response is to step farther away from her to emphasize that she can do this on her own. I watch her turn back toward the target, see her shoulders rise as she concentrates on what she’s about to do, her small frame tensing just before she pulls the trigger. Her body jars with the recoil, but she does well holding her stance, and I have to say I’m rather impressed with both her shot and her form.
I retreat toward the staging area as she glances over to me, a smile spreading on those lush lips of hers, and there is something about her in the moment that causes my feet to falter. Maybe it’s her regal beauty mixed with the rough elements around us: black hair against soft cheeks, cold metal in the hands I know are smooth, emerald eyes standing out amid the sea of camouflage netting around her. I can’t pinpoint the exact nature of it all, but the excitement in her eyes combined with the softness of her smile has that familiar feeling dropping through me that I don’t want to feel – not here, not with her.
In my head, I immediately hear Stella chastising me, telling me to step back from the ledge because my libido is leading the charge in a way that makes me want more from Beaux than just her photographs. It doesn’t seem to help to remind myself this feeling is straight lust fueled by loneliness and desire. A total fuckup of a combination.
What sane man wouldn’t be attracted to her? Shit, I fell for her ruse, so I can’t feign innocence, but at least I learned my lesson.
“Damn, Thomas, she can pull my trigger any day,” Sarge says under his breath as I pull my ear protection off. He has just proven my exact point.
“Nah, I think she bats for her own team.” The comment is off my tongue before I can stop it, and thank God he laughs. I do too. The only difference is that I’m laughing at the ludicrousness of my knee-jerk response while he’s thinking what a shame it is to waste that body of hers.
“Fair warning, I’ll start to think less of you if you, the consummate ladies’ man, can’t make her switch-hit for just one inning.” He whistles out in appreciation when Beaux sets the weapon down on the ledge in front of her and stretches her arms out overhead in a motion that gives us both a great profile view of her rack.
And as much as I want to audibly groan in appreciation of the sight, there’s no way I’m going to draw more of his attention toward her. So many confused thoughts are running through my head by now, and the situation only feels more fraught when Beaux’s smile grows wider and she holds my gaze a little longer than necessary.
“Ah, you just might have a shot, Thomas, if she keeps looking at you like that,” Sarge teases, snapping me from the wave of thoughts that don’t belong.
“What the fuck ever,” I snort. “You got her for a bit? I want to go say hi to Maverick and see how he’s doing.” It’s been months since I’ve seen him, so I know he’s probably fine now after taking hostile fire, but it never hurts to recement connections here.
And now that I’m watching Sarge interact with Beaux, I realize what a bad idea it was coming here with the hope that he might have some time to babysit. Because bringing a gorgeous woman to a military base full of men who have been on deployment for months on end is like flaunting chum to hungry sharks. Someone is going to bite, and while chivalry may be dead, my ability to throw a punch to defend her honor sure as fuck isn’t.
And that’s the last thing I need, to cause trouble and bite the hand that feeds me.
“Sure. I’ve got time before my next briefing,” he tells me right before Beaux fires another round, the pop drowning out all sound around us.