Page 24 of The Perfect Snipe

A smile tugs at my lips, pride swelling in my chest. It really was a beautiful goal.

The kids had trudged up to bed earlier, shoulders slumped. Mason had mumbled a quiet “night” before disappearing into his room and Stella's usual sass was muted.

The alarm system's sharp beep pierces the quiet, followed by the soft thud of the front door closing. I sit up straighter, listening. Leo's footsteps, heavy and slow, echo through the foyer.

I crane my neck, peering over the back of the couch. Leo lumbers into the living room, his massive frame filling the entryway. His shoulders are slumped, his usually proud posture bent. In this moment, he reminds me of Atlas, condemned to bear the heavens on his shoulders.

“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low. “That last goal was amazing.”

Leo's jaw clenches as he runs a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions like a disgruntled porcupine. “Doesn't matter if we can't win.”

I bite back a sigh. “Jesus, Hartman. Can you take a compliment for once?”

His ice-blue eyes lock onto mine, a turbulent storm brewing behind them. Frustration, exhaustion, and something deeper, something raw and vulnerable that makes my chest tighten.

“You look like shit.” While meant as a joke to lighten the mood, they miss their mark. Sometimes, I’m a dumbass. Biting my lower lip I try again. “I mean—want some water? Or one of those nasty protein shakes you chug?”

He nods, trailing behind me as I head to the kitchen. The fridge hums as I yank it open, grabbing a bottle of water. Leo's presence looms behind me, radiating tension like a furnace.

I turn, nearly colliding with his broad chest. I thrust the bottle at him and our fingers brush, sending a jolt of electricity throughme. “Here. Hydrate before you shrivel up into a raisin, you big grump.”

A low growl rumbles from his chest. “I'm not—”

“Oh, please.” I cross my arms and cock a hip, rolling my eyes for added effect. “You've elevated brooding to an art form. It's like your superpower or something. Do you sit upstairs practicing your dark, smoldering looks in the mirror? Because I gotta say, you've got that shit down pat.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, and suddenly he's chuckling. The sound is deep and rich, like expensive chocolate melting on your tongue, and it sends an unexpected warmth flooding through my body.

Mierda.

Leo unscrews the cap and takes a long, slow swig from his water bottle, his throat working as he swallows. I zone in on the movement, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs, the way the muscles in his neck contract. It's mesmerizing, and I have to force myself to look away.

He reaches past me to set the bottle on the counter, effectively caging me in with his arms. “For someone so tiny, you've got an awful lot of sass.”

I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze. “What can I say? I'm fun-sized with a bonus attitude. Like those tiny candies that pack a surprising punch. Plus, I'm incredibly useful when you need something from the low shelves. You giants always struggle with that, don't you?”

Leo's eyes darken, a dangerous glint appearing in them. “That smart mouth is going to get you in trouble, Hellcat.”

“Oh, yeah?” I stand on my tiptoes to lean closer, my lips barely an inch from his. “What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

I let my words linger over him before pulling back, just enough to see his reaction, a smirk playing on my lips. I know I've won when his jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” His hands find my hips, gripping tight, threatening to leave bruises. “So if you can’t handle it, say so now.”

“Think it’s you that can’t handle me.” He’s so fun to tease. I’d love to watch him come undone.

My face barely reaches his chest, and he has to dip down to look me in the eyes. He tucks his fingers beneath my chin, holding me in place so I can’t look away. “You’re so fucking frustrating.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that. But what are you gonna do about it? Because so far, all I've seen is talk. No action.”

The muscles in his jaw flex, and my lips quirk for only a second before his are on mine. My pulse thunders in my ears. It's not a gentle kiss. It's rough and demanding, all teeth and tongue and primal need. His mouth moves against mine, his tongue asserting dominance, but I'm not one to roll over and submit. I bite back, my tongue fighting against his, my teeth nipping at his lips.

We stay tangled like that, unable to break away, unable to break the other. It's a battle of wills, a power struggle, and I'm determined to come out on top.

When he finally pulls away, I'm lightheaded and breathless, my chest heaving up and down with the effort. I have to keep my hands on his chest to stay steady, and I can feel his heart pounding beneath my fingertips, mirroring my own.

God, everything about him feels so good. I fight back the urge to drag his face down to mine and kiss him again. In truth, I want more than to kiss him. I want to tear his clothes off and ride him until we're both screaming. And if I start, I might not stop.

I lick my lips, a slow, deliberate movement meant to drive him crazy. I want to see the shock in his eyes when I drop to my knees, but he must be thinking the same thing because he beats me to it, his hands pressing on my shoulders, guiding me down.

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