“I missed, though,” she noted. “He wouldn't die from that. He'd run, or call for help.”
Nodding at the target, I frowned. “Chances are he'd shoot back. You'd be dead.”
Marina looked away, not flinching like I'd predicted. “I need to practice more,” she said. I swear, she was talking to herself.
Reaching out, I took the Ruger. “I think we can fix your aim right now.” The gun was set aside, I lifted my hands. “Here, do this. Make a diamond shape with your thumb and pointer.”
Frowning, Marina copied me. We stood there, staring at each other through the gaps between our palms. I kind of loved it.
“Now what?” she asked, a tiny smile growing.
Now I grab your thick fucking hair and see how good my aim is when I shove my ridiculous hard-on between your thighs.
I kept my thoughts at bay. Grinning so my teeth showed, I closed one eye. “Look through the hole at the target. Shut one eye, then the other. You should only be able to see the paper through—”
“Oh!” she laughed, cutting me off. “I get it. Yeah, I'm seeing it with my left eye shut.”
“Right eye dominant,” I answered. Dropping my arms, I handed her back the gun. “This time, line the sight up and shut your left eye.”
Marina settled in, and when she slid her foot back, her hip touched mine. My cock pulsated sympathetically. “Alright,” she whispered. I observed the way she naturally held her breath and tightened her tendons. My heart was pumping with energy, already expecting the outcome.
That time, the bullet whistled through the paper man's skull.
“I did it!” she cheered, eyes so big they could pop. Staring up at me, Marina's flushed cheeks begged me to turn them more red.
If I'd done this with another woman, not Marina, would I be just as turned on?
“Are you okay?” she asked, lowering the gun to her waist.
Not at all, I thought bitterly. Closing my hand over hers, I endured her pulse like a punch to the jaw. “My turn,” I rasped.
Marina stepped back, concern clouding her eyes. My heel slammed into the switch, sending the target flying all the way back to the far wall. Ten yards, as far as it could go. She'd only fired two shots, I had another eight to work through.
My lungs flared, arms raised, leveled and steadied. I dipped my toe into the emotionless river that craved to drown me. I knew what it meant to go there.
Once you swam in the river of depravity—of murder—you had two choices.
Swim some more.
Or drown.
Bang.
The first pop. I knew the bullet would pierce the target between the eyes.
Bang.
Perfection, I nailed it a hair's whisper to the right.
Each time I fired, the explosion rocked my core. My cells sang to me, and my bloodlust teased me by becoming real lust.
Shooting a target wasn't like killing someone.
But my imagination was vivid... and I saw a human face with every shot.
When the bolt jutted backwards from the gun, I knew it was empty. I was empty.
“Kite?” The way she said my name, it was a hook in my gut. “Kite, are you okay?”
Turning, I saw the mixture of emotions on her face. Puffed lips, shiny eyes, and her coffee skin gleaming with her own heat.
Could she feel mine?
She asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Yes,” I breathed out. “Something is very fucking wrong.” With me, with you, with the whole fucking world. This woman had slammed into my life, hammered her way in and demanded I help her.
Marina, the brave and cocky and ultimately foolish girl.
To keep Jacob and myself safe, I was supposed to want her dead.
But right then, I wanted to bathe in her existence.
Her eyes flashed. “Kite?” That time, my name was an omen.
The river dragged me way down, and I let it take me under. Dropping the gun, I curled my hand behind her long neck and yanked her towards me. Her gasp tasted like bliss and cocoa.
Kiss me back, I thought, crushing my lips on hers. Let me know you want this as badly as I fucking need it. Maybe that was impossible. The black hole in me was blaring, claiming it could never be filled. No one knew this sensation like I did. No one could.
Her teeth clipped my tongue; my lower lip. A hand wrenched in my hair, forcing me away from her face.
Panting, I looked into her eyes and struggled to breathe. Marina was my oxygen.
“Why,” she breathed out. It was a statement, not a question. Feverishly she watched me, still clinging to my scalp.
Her breasts were smothered against me, and I pressed her close to suffocate my brain even more. “Because I want you.” It was a sparse explanation. Yes, I wanted Marina. On paper it made sense; she was beautiful and sensual, she held her own and holy hell was she sexy shooting my gun.
There were a million reasons as to why I wanted to kiss her puckered lips.
She didn't blink, she gripped me violently. “No. Why do this... when you know it won't last?”
My mouth fell open, words failing me. Through my decadent lust, I realized what she meant. Marina was making it cryptically clear that she knew we had no future.