CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Wrap your hand around it like this.”
“Right here?”
“Down a little lower. Keep your grip firm.”
My eyes flickered to Wisp’s mouth when the tip of her pink tongue peeked out in concentration.
Christ.
Teaching Wisp how to handle my rifle shouldn’t have affected me like it did. I didn’t find anything particularly erotic about guns, but it would be a lie if I said that watching Wisp’s (ring-less) fingers tighten around the rifle’s barrel didn’t send a jolt of want straight through my dick.
“I don’t think I’m doing it right.”
“You’re doing fine. Just make sure you keep the butt in the pocket of your shoulder, or the recoil is going to hurt.”
“Like this?” Wisp asked, worrying her bottom lip.
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. “Perfect,” I muttered gruffly. “Is your scope aligned?”
She rested her cheek against the stock and closed her non-dominant eye like I had shown her how to do earlier. “I think so,” she said as she squinted through the scope, eyeing her target – a glass bottle I’d set up on a stump near the tree line of the forest.
It was a good thirty yards away from where she stood with my gun.
“Then you’re set to shoot. Take aim, and when you’re ready, make sure you pull the trigger back slowly.”
There that damn tongue was again, making a reappearance as Wisp wet her lips in anticipation. I was so busy tracing its movements that I nearly missed it when she pulled back the trigger.
Bang!
The bullet shot past the target – wide right, if I were to guess – and the rifle’s recoil nearly sent Wisp flying backwards on her pert little ass.
I grabbed her before she could fall – a seemingly constant theme between us. “Jesus, Wisp,” I scolded. “I told you to pull it back slowly.”
Once she’d regained her balance, I released her and pulled down the collar of her shirt to inspect her shoulder. Her skin was red where the butt of the rifle had rammed into her, but it didn’t look like it would bruise.
It wasn’t until I realized that my hand was hovering over the swell of her cleavage, my eyes drinking in the creamy expanse of her skin, that I realized what I was doing.
I hurriedly yanked her collar back up, taking a jerky step backwards before Wisp could tell my mouth was literally fucking watering.
Wisp didn’t seem to notice my internal struggle; she just blinked up at me, looking somewhat dazed. “Well, I think we can cross professional marksman…” She paused, tilting her head to the side. “Markswoman?” she wondered aloud before shaking her head. “Whatever they’re called, I think we can cross them off the list of potential titles I held before… well, before.”
I felt the tension drain from my muscles at her characteristic zany chatter.
“It was only your first try,” I assured her. “Come on, you still have five bullets left in the chamber. Try again.” I took another step back. “And remember, this time pull the trigger back slowly.”
Wisp nodded. “Right.”
Bringing the gun back up to her shoulder and aiming at the target, she did as I instructed and prepared to shoot.
Bang!
She missed again – high, this time, judging by the branches I heard snapping following her shot – but at least the recoil didn’t push her backwards.
“Better,” I complimented. “Now, try again.”
Wisp did.
In fact, she tried twelve more times in the following half-hour, but after unloading over two full rounds of bullets, the glass bottle was still standing, and I could tell Wisp was growing frustrated.
Her jaw clenched tightly as she took aim…
Bang!
… and missed again.
She huffed, turning to face me. “Don’t say it.”
I held my hands up in an appeasing gesture. “I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you’re doing that… interpretive dance thing you do with your eyebrows,” she accused.
Even if I hadn’t been, that particular comment certainly caused them to rise.
Wisp groaned at the sight, stomping over to me and attempting to hand me the rifle. “Here. Take it. I give up.”
But I refused to accept the gun. Instead, I wrapped my hands around hers, where she was gripping the barrel, and gently pushed it back at her. “You need to learn this.”
Wisp scowled, the expression foreign on her face. “Have you not been watching? It’s no use. Trying to teach me to shoot this rifle is like… I don't know, trying to teach Thane not to beg for bacon at breakfast.” Thane’s head jerked up when he heard his name from where he’d been observing us on the porch. (He’d been keeping his distance since I’d brought out the rifle – the loud noise the gun made as it discharged made him nervous.) “In other words,” she continued, “it’s a giant waste of time.”
Irritation sparked at her assertion. Because, in my mind, nothing about teaching Wisp how to protect herself was a waste of time. In fact, I couldn’t think of anything more important. It infuriated me that she didn’t seem to value her safety more. “I’m sorry,” I drawled. “Did you have something else planned for today? Making more dandelion necklaces maybe?”
It’s what she’d been doing this morning before I had brought out the rifle. She’d even made a crown of them for Thane, who still wore it on his head, seemingly unbothered by the weedy accessory.
“Because I’d like to see you try to use one of those to fend off a wild animal, or worse, another grabby asshole like that guy at the bar.”
Wisp pursed her lips and turned away from me, but not before I caught the glimmer of hurt in her eyes.
And immediately, I felt like a jackass.
I groaned, dragging a hand roughly down my face. “Look, honey, I’m trying to help you,” I beseeched her.
The tense line of Wisp’s shoulders softened when the endearment rolled off my tongue. She sighed, toeing the ground with the tip of one of her tennis shoes. “I know,” she admitted, peeking up at me with her big, brown eyes.
And just like that, any lingering irritation drifted away as if it had never even been there. How the hell could I stay mad at her when she looked at me so damn sweetly?
“Come here,” I said, ignoring the way she stiffened in surprise when I pulled her close to me. Lining our bodies up so that her back was pressed flush against my chest – I kept my hips stationed carefully away from her – I took her arms and helped her properly align the gun.
Wisp was standing so rigidly that it was almost like arranging a marionette.
“Breathe, Wisp,” I instructed, and she shakily inhaled.
“You need to relax,” I added softly as I tucked her elbow in underneath her. “That’s part of the problem. You’re so tense.”
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“Shh,” I shushed her. “Focus. And this time, when you pull back the trigger, don’t jerk your head up to see if you’ve hit your target. Keep your eyes straight ahead. You’ve got to trust yourself.” I slowly released her arms before backing up one step and then another.
I cleared my throat, attempting to shake off the lingering arousal from being so close to her. “Whenever you feel like you’re ready,” I said, “fire at the target.”
Wisp took a deep breath and…
Bang!
The bottle exploded.
For a second, we were both still.
And then…
“I did it,” Wisp muttered, voice revealing her shock. She turned to face me, a grin slowly pulling at her mouth. And then, more excitedly, she repeated, “I did it!”
She dumped the gun on the ground (we were going to have to discuss gun safety… again) before springing at me.
I wasn’t ready for it – to suddenly have an armful of Wisp – but my body reacted of its own accord, my hands automatically gripping the underside of her thighs to support her weight.
She pressed a kiss to my gaping mouth. “Thank you!”
I swallowed hard, trying to get my mouth to work so I could say something in response. “You’re welcome,” I managed to croak, but my voice sounded craggy, even to my own ears.
Wisp must have heard it, too – the want in my voice. Either that, or she had realized the… intimacy of our position, because a blush blossomed across her face, and she seemed suddenly shy, glancing up at me through her lashes.
Shy or not, she didn’t release her grip around my neck. In fact, she moved closer, shifting nearer until her heady scent, honeyed with heightened desire, invaded my nose.
And then she returned her mouth to mine, pressing her lips carefully against my own as her grip around me tightened, fingers tugging at the short hairs at the base of my skull.
Fuck.
She was temptation personified.
My hands constricted involuntarily around the underside of her thighs, and I fought the urge to pull her closer. I wanted so badly to return the kiss… but I couldn’t. Because if I did, I didn't think I’d be able to stop until my tongue had explored every part of her, until it was buried in her, until I was buried in her, and she was mine in every sense of the word.
It took all of my will power to pull away, to gently pry her fingers from around my neck and set her on the ground.
Wisp stared up at me, her brow wrinkled in confusion and her eyes shining with hurt.
Damn it.
“You… you did good,” I said, hating how wrecked I sounded. “I… I’ll be right back.”
Then, like a coward, I turned my back to her and fled to the cabin. I had to get away from her before I did something I couldn’t take back. (Like press her into the grass, rip off her shorts, and fucking take her.)
I strode briskly into the kitchen, stopping in front of the sink and twisting the faucet’s handle until icy water was spurting out of its spout. I cupped my hands under the running water and splashed it into my face.
It was as close to a cold shower as I could get at that moment.
I sensed the second Wisp stepped into the room, and I could feel her gaze burning a hole into the back of my head as I all but dunked it under the water.
Because, of course, she couldn’t just let me walk away. Like usual, Wisp chased danger instead of running from it.
Knowing she wouldn’t leave until I acknowledged her, I cranked off the water and turned to face her. “What?” I demanded, internally wincing when the word came out sounding sharper than I’d intended.
The frown Wisp was already wearing deepened. “Are… are you mad at me?” she asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
Behind me, I curled my fingers around the edge of the sink, clenching at the stainless steel in an effort to ground myself. “Why would I be mad at you?” I asked.
Wisp brought her shoulder up to her ear in a shrug. “I don't know. It’s just…” she trailed off.
“It’s just what, Wisp?” I snapped.
Wisp stiffened, her eyes sparking with anger at my tone. She pressed her lips together, taking a moment to brace herself before pressing onward. “It’s just you haven’t touched me in four days,” she said, “not since… that night.” She didn’t need to clarify that she was talking about the night I had simultaneously revealed my shifter form and past to her. It was also the night she had let my mouth make love to hers until she’d fallen asleep in my arms. “I mean, sure, you’ve let me cuddle up to you and kiss you, but anytime I’ve tried to start anything more, you just… run away.” Her eyes flitted to the ground, and I could almost physically see the confidence draining from her shoulders. “I mean… I thought you wanted me.”
I do want you, honey – too much. That’s the problem.
She bit her bottom lip. “But now I’m thinking that maybe I was wrong. Maybe you view this – me – as some sort of obligation because, I don't know, you’re scared I’ll tell someone that you’re a shifter, or-”
I couldn’t stand it – the insecurity practically radiating from her, the upset in her voice.
Without even really deciding I was going to do it, I pushed away from the sink and pressed forward, pinning her against the opposite counter with my body, my hands clenching at the granite on either side of her, arms trapping her in place so she couldn’t move.
Wisp’s breath hitched, and I knew there was no way she didn’t feel it: the proof of my arousal poking into her stomach. When I opened my mouth, my voice was thick with repressed desire. “Does this feel like a fucking obligation to you?”