Page 64 of Red My Lips

“Not hard, but you have to be firm. When you pull the trigger, the gun will push against your hands. Be cautious of the kickback and keep your grip steady.”

“Easy.” I take his notes, applying the instructions.

“Now take a deep breath,” The air in our lungs rushes out in unison. “I’ll step back. You aim and shoot the target until you run out of bullets. You want kill shots.”

“Ok.” I nod against him. With that, he’s pulling away from me and takes several steps back to give me room. As he directed, I keep my finger away from the trigger until I’ve aimed and I’m ready to shoot. Pulling the trigger, a wave of energy trickles down my spine. My grip braces against the kickback, holding the weapon almost steady.

“Damn,” I marvel, looking at the weapon in my hands. There’s so much freedom in the power this deadly weapon gives me, a hit of dopamine second only to the feeling of a blade. Chasing that feeling, I pull the trigger again in quick succession-—as fast as I can while still taking the time to aim. The head or the heart. I feel so unstoppable as the bullets explode from the chamber to pierce my target. The kick of the gun, the solid weight of the metal in my hands, gives me a sense of confidence and control I’ve only ever felt when taking a life with my bare hands.

Here, in this moment, I’m invincible.

Metal chinks when I reach the end of the magazine, having shot the last loaded bullet. Damn, this is exhilarating. I flip the switch on the side of the booth, and the pulley system has my target racing towards me. Inspecting it, I count the holes in the paper.

“How many bullets were in here?” I ask, turning the pistol over in my hand to get a better look at it. The grip gives no indication of how much ammunition it can hold.

“That one holds seventeen rounds,” Gage says behind me.

“Eight out of seventeen isn’t bad. I even shot the brain and the heart a few times,” I say, pointing to where the ammunition tore through the paper. Three kill shots, as Gage calls them. Two in the head, one in the heart. “I can do better. Got any more of these?” Waving the gun, my eyes search for Gage.

He’s standing not two feet behind me, his gaze fixed intensely on me with a passionate expression. The man is searing a hole right through me, turning my insides into molten lava.

“What?” I ask.

“What do you feel right now?”

Pausing for a few seconds, I take stock of what’s going on inside me. What am I feeling right now?

“I feel…” A smile slowly spreads across my face. “Alive.”

He’s watching me, those unrelenting eyes of his soaking in my every reaction. Holding out his hand, I place the gun in his palm. His fingers brush against mine, lingering longer than necessary before pulling away.

With the press of a button, the magazine ejects, and he pulls it from the handle. He crouches down to drop the empty clip into the duffle and replace it with a full one. Raising back to his full height, he slams the magazine back into place and chambers a round with a resounding chink.

Replacing the target and sending it flying back into place on the far back wall with the others, he steps forward to wrap his arms around me again. “Let’s work on your aim, little devil.”

The second part of our date is a romantic dinner at Taste, one of the best restaurants in the city. When I asked Gage how he managed to get a reservation, he simply smirked and told me he worked some magic because I’m worth it.

Following the hostess through the restaurant to our table with Gage at my side, I can feel the other diners’ eyes on us. True to his word, Gage found a way to show me off in this dress, and I’ve never felt hotter. Having a tall tattoo-god dressed to the nines on my arm completes the look. We’re one ridiculously beautiful couple, especially tonight.

Our table is intimately set for two, with a vase of long-stem red roses that are noticeably not on any other table. Gage pulls out my chair before taking his seat across from me. I look at him, surprised when a server shows up out of thin air to place a dirty martini on the table in front of me. Gage simply flashes me a wink that has my stomach doing backflips.

When the server returns to our table, Gage orders for the both of us—a lobster tail and champagne for me, and filet mignon and a vintage cognac for himself. Watching him take charge is so unbelievably attractive. If I were wearing panties, they’d be drenched. Everything this man does is ridiculously attractive, and he looks damn good doing it.

How did I get so lucky? This man showed up in my life unannounced and stole my heart without contest. I’m not sure what I did to be so blessed for a man like Gage to have found me.

“Something’s on your mind,” Gage observes. “Tell me what it is.” I cross my legs under the table, running the side of my foot up and down his leg absentmindedly.

“I want to know how.”

“How?” Gage repeats, confused.

“How you knew I was the one you wanted,” I clarify. I’ve never questioned the why—because it’s always been so obvious why Gage and I are meant to be. But how Gage was able to find me is something I haven’t been able to figure out.

Gage meets my eyes, his passionate gaze holding mine. Something tells me I’ll never get used to the depth of our connection.

“The moment I laid eyes on you, it was undeniable. You’re mine.”

“Where did you first see me?”

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