Bullet ✔️

Chapter 11

The shooting range was full of people the next day, all of whom knew Damian, and respected him. Some of them didn't even meet his eyes, and others bragged about his shooting skills as he emptied magazine after magazine into the cardboard targets at the other end.

I sat comfortably on top of a steel cabinet, where he instructed me to, and watched. My ears were protected, and by the time he turned towards me and loosened the last shot, I didn't flinch from the sound. I could see his smile grow, as if he realized that too, and he emptied the gun and put it back into the locker where he found it.

He took off my headphones, staring into my eyes as he pushed himself closer—between my legs.

"You're getting used to it already, sweetheart." His voice was lowered, lighting a small fire between my thighs.

I swallowed and nodded. "It's not so—" I flinched from a shot and a yell from one of the other people, which made me laugh a little, "bad.."

"A star student," he said, leaning closer to me, to my neck. His breath was hot against my skin. His hands went up my thighs and around my waist as he whispered, "Maybe I'll let you hold it tomorrow."

I knew he meant the gun. I knew he meant the gun.

My mind thought he meant something completely different, though that could also shoot..

I cleared my throat and tried to push him off, which made him chuckle, before he respected my move and took a step back. There were so many people there who could see us, so many people who knew him, and had no idea who I was.

He helped me down from the cabinet and packed away the equipment he'd used, before taking my hand and leading me back upstairs through the empty bar and out to his car.

I had no idea at all what to think of his behavior, and after my mind decided he was the only man I could see, his actions made me remember the fireman's touch and his skilled hips that I read about the night before.

Damian was a walking wet dream, and I'd just made it into a daydream.

In an effort to dump some cold water all over myself, I asked, "Any news on the...case?"

He chuckled. "Case?" He steered us out into traffic, setting course back towards Elina and James' house. "Makes me sound like a cop. But no. They've gone underground for now."

"So I'm—"

"You're stuck with us a little while longer," he finished for me. I wouldn't use those words, exactly, but...he was right.

"I wouldn't say stuck," I countered lowly, looking out the passenger window, hoping that he didn't hear it.

But he did.

"Are we growing on you?"

"Elina is really nice, and James too," I said, not voicing that I didn't want to lose Elina as a friend any time soon.

"Is that all?" His voice darkened, and when I turned to look at him, his knuckles were white around the wheel.

I shook my head. "No." I hoped he knew what I meant, because I wasn't ready to say it.

His hands loosened a little around the steering wheel, and he glanced my way. "Good."

The next day was the same. The range was full, and Damian shot another target to shreds. When he finished, he walked over to me, pressed himself between my knees and took my hands out. He placed the warm weapon into my palms, his eyes locked on mine as I did my best not to whimper from the smoke still seeping out of it.