Page 85 of Fiery Romance

“What if you don’t regret it?” I whisper.

His eyes lock on mine, dangerous. Menacing. The ache inside of me springs alive, drawn to him. To whatever promises and threats are in his gaze.

Fighting this attraction is soexhausting. I might combust from just standing here, looking at him. I might faint from the way his fingers are playing with mine.

“When there’s so much at stake, ‘what ifs’ aren’t good enough anymore,” he grits out. “Life is about more than just doing what makes you feel good in the moment.”

“I disagree,” I argue, “life is a million different moments compiled into one. There’s a time to overthink things and a time to take a leap.”

He frowns and whips his eyes to the targets. “Enough talking. I’m going to take my hands off you and I’m going to load the gun. Are you ready to obey me, Island?”

“Are you ready to trust me, Clay?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” He holds me for a beat longer and then steps back. His hands make quick work of loading the weapon. I hear a click and something deep inside me thuds.

I knew he wouldn’t give me a gun with bullets, which was why I acted the way I did earlier. But things just got real.

He notices my expression and walks over to me. “Scared?”

“Not even a little,” I squeak. My trembling lips give me away.

“Need my help?”

I gulp and nod.

“Say yes, Island. Let me hear it.”

“Yes.”

He steps behind me. His hands sneak down my body. The friction of his palm drives an involuntary gasp out of me.

Clay doesn’t stop until he’s cupping my thigh and prodding it open. “Shoulder-width apart.”

A small thread of alarm peals in my brain. Blood is rushing through my veins, heading straight between my legs.

Focus, Island.

“Relax.” Clay smoothes his hands over my shoulders. “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re not going to hurt me or anyone else.”

I inhale and listen keenly as he walks me through aiming and shooting. When it’s time to pull the trigger, he’s right there.

“Steady your breath,” he murmurs. He takes in a breath to show me and his chest knocks against my back. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

His low hum of disagreement sets my body on edge.

I take in gulps of air until my heart stops trying to escape my ribs.

“Now, Island,” Clay orders.

My chest tightens, my heart stutters, and I pull the trigger. The recoil is stronger than I expected, but Clay’s right there to cushion the blow. He absorbs me into himself and steadies me on my feet.

“There you go.”

“Oh my gosh.” My eyes widen and I whirl around in excitement. “I just shot a gun.”

“Yes, and completely missed the target,” he says, quickly taking the gun from me and unloading it.

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