Page 107 of The Dark Obsession

Guessing my train of thought, his mouth grazes the shell of my ear.

“If worst comes to pass, you’ll be able to protect yourself, Malory. But I won’t let it come to that. Over my dead body will I allow a fucking scratch on your porcelain skin.” He rasps against the side of my face.

Scraping his teeth over my exposed neck, Tyson tenderly kisses his marks from last night, pulling back too quickly for my liking.

“You can do it on your own now, little one.”

His hand releases my clammy one, making cold sweat break out on my temples as I faintly shake my head.

“Guns are less personal than knives. Act on your instinct, don’t think about it. I know you got it.” His hot breath brushes my nape, making me shiver involuntarily.

Raising my unsteady hand, I point at the target, double checking my aim before tentatively squeezing the trigger.

“You can't fucking hesitate, Malory. That millisecond is what’s going to get you killed.” There’s genuine concern for my safety marring Tyson’s voice.

Placing both hands on my shoulders, he turns me into position, facing the trees once more.

“Don’t lose sight of your target. Subconsciously, where you’re looking is where you’ll likely shoot.”

Taking a deep breath, I try again. My posture rigid until I feel Tyson step behind me, setting me at ease with his closeness.

After several rounds of empty magazines, I can hold my ground without jolting and my aim has improved quite a bit.

It’s far from perfect but I’m slowly getting there.

With each shot I’m hitting closer and closer to the center.

A living, moving target however would be another thing entirely.

Nonetheless, if I learned one thing today, it’s that I shouldn’t underestimate myself.

I did something I never thought I’d have the courage for and it feels euphoric.

As it turns out, all I needed was the right support. Not one that’s constantly tearing me down, controlling my every move.

With Tyson, I feel like I can do anything.

He’s been incredibly patient with me, and the gratitude I feel because of it is making my vision blur with unshed tears.

When was the last time I did something without being chastised and told time and time again that I wasn’t good enough.

Seeing the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, my rough man immediately pulls me close, gently kissing them away.

“Thank you for this.” I offer him a watery smile.

“Always.” With that he seals our lips for a brief moment before continuing in a low voice.

“Don’t be hard on yourself, little one. We’ve got all day, the rest of our lives really. But I’d also like to spend it in other ways than shooting practice.” He murmurs suggestively and my bleak thoughts instantly dissolve into warm pools of desire flooding my veins.

Something unreadable settles over his features, his expression hardening as he looks me over.

“Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. I thought I’d hate seeing you like this, so innocent and full of life holding a weapon of death.” His gaze sweeps over me one more time. “Yet the only thing I see is how fucking strong and sexy you are, baby girl.”

A blush creeps over my neck and cheeks as I turn away from his now heated gaze.

“Again. This time try imagining you’re aiming at a living, breathing opponent.” He commands and I shudder at picturing a real person standing in front of that target.

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