Page 14 of The Fox

“I can’t have him.”

She opens her mouth to respond but is interrupted by the slamming of a door. I hear Duncan rustling in the other room and Parker rolls her eyes. It isn’t long before he calls out, asking where the ice cream is. Parker shakes her head before yelling back.

“It’s in the freezer, sillyhead. Maybe if you opened your eyes, you’d see it.” A small chuckle escapes her and I smile at their playfulness. She turns back to me, her nimble fingers playing with a charm hanging from her neck, and I know our conversation isn’t over.

“We’ve always said that if women actually ruled and sat on thrones instead of men, we wouldn’t have these silly annoyances. Perhaps, it is time you remind these fuckers just who Amelia Conte is.”

CHAPTER 12

Rhodes---Fourth Date

A shooting range probably isn’t the best idea for a date but something tells me Amelia isn’t going to mind. We’ve been on several dates now and this one is special because I’m letting her see a part of me that most people don’t. I head to our booth, taking my time to appreciate the way no one else is here. The range is silent and serene. Perks of being a part owner, I guess.

I reach the end of the row, pick a corner slot, and lay out the options on the table. I don’t know what she’ll be able to handle so I make sure to select a variety. I hear a chime come from the doorway, and I turn, waiting for her to appear. A beat passes and then there she is.Gods, how was she single for so long?I watch as her eyes take in the place.

She’s dressed casually but still impeccably. Her long hair is half up in a top knot, the rest draped over her shoulders; her signature leather jacket covers most of her shirt but I can see the neckline is low enough to hint at her full breasts. My eyes run down her body, tracing the black leggings painted on her strong thighs, which are tucked into a pair of well-worn canvas shoes. There is not a trace of makeup on her and I notice that her nail polish is chipped. Anyone else might be offended that she hadn’t taken the time to get dolled up but I found it genuine—a way of Amelia being completely transparent.

“Hey, Rhodes.”

She grins, reaching me and extending her arms for a hug. She smells like jasmine and notes of amber; it is comforting and completely compliments her. I pull her in, relishing the ease of the movement. There had been a time Amelia wouldn’t let me hold her hand, so the fact that I am getting a hug right now? This is everything. Her body is still tense at the contact but I’ll take what I can get.

“Hi, Amelia,” I murmur against her neck, my arms wrapping around her soft waist. My hands rest above the ass that’s haunted my dreams every night, the body I jerk myself off to in the shower is now pressed against me, and I breathe deeply. She breaks the hug first, peering around my shoulder to see the booth behind us. My hands tighten as the flesh gives under my fingers. I love that she has some meat on her bones; she won’t break easily when I finally have my way with her.

We head into the booth, our hands joined as I pull her behind me.

“Have you ever fired a gun before, baby?” I ask. I’ve called her baby twice now and it feels natural, like it was always supposed to be this way. I load and then check each gun, not wanting to assume she’d done this before. The last thing I want to do is overwhelm her.

“A few times. Certainly not with this many options though,” she smirks, her eyes turned down toward the table. “Would you like to go first?”

I shake my head, feeling a slow grin breaking out across my face. I want so badly to show her how good of a shot I am, but I have to walk the line between showing off and making sure she doesn’t get spooked. I grab my favorite firearm and step to the window, hitting the button that sets the targets, and securing ear protection over my ears. I am glad my body is having a good day and not rebelling against me.

There is a peace that washes over me when I line up my shot—a settling of the bristling that has been grating at my core when it comes to Amelia. There are four targets in front of me, each increasing in difficulty as they get farther away from me. A cakewalk, at least for me. I’m used to moving targets, of the need to coordinate shots through walls and windows instead of aiming for a bullseye drawn on thin paper. I hit the first two targets dead on, pausing a moment to look at Amelia before continuing.

She’s leaning against the wall of the booth, her leather jacket now discarded and there is a ghost of a smile on her face. Her plump lips are itching to tick up as she crosses her arms across her chest, giving me a picture of perfection. A quirk of an eyebrow makes me shake my head and chuckle as she tells me to continue without saying a damn word.

Yes, Ma’am.

Who am I to deny Amelia anything?

I turn back to the targets and fire twice more, nailing each paper dead center. I double-check to ensure the safety is on before walking to her. Her back presses against the plaster wall, eyes searching mine as her brows furrow. Her stance tenses, unsure of my intentions. I refrain from crowding her a bit more, instead grabbing her hand, and slowly start running my hand up her arm before resting my grip on her neck. I have to be cautious, and calculated, when it comes to Amelia’s personal space. I cup her jaw, my thumb stroking the strong feature, watching as her tongue darts between her opened lips.

“Not bad, Rhodes.” Her voice is soft and soothing.

I capture her lips in mine, claiming her as we clash; the meeting of teeth and tongue sparking something deeper in me. I tighten my grip on her jaw, snaking my other hand around her waist to pull her closer to me and away from the wall.

I want more.

I want her.

We break for the briefest breath, Amelia’s hands wrapping around my neck and her fingers knotting themselves in my hair. One kiss is not enough. Amelia doesn’t settle for second-best when it comes to being kissed. Ever since that fateful day when she’d kissed me first, I’ve made it my mission to kiss her how she deserves to be kissed.

Passionately. Deeply. All-consuming.

Both my hands are now cupping her face, an unspoken ask dancing between us, and she answers with another searing kiss. I feel her fingers tightening as I lick the seam of her lips, begging for her to open for me again. Small nips are placed along her lips followed by my tongue soothing the pain.

I am a man consumed and I don’t want to ever recover.

I pull back, noting with satisfaction her dilated pupils, the way her lips are swollen and her face is flush. She will be the death of me and if that is how I leave this world, Gods deliver me.

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