Page 83 of Bad Bishop
He infuriated and confused me. One moment he offered me sex, the other he looked disgusted with my belly. His behavior gave me whiplash. And the worst part was, I couldn’t discuss it with anyone, because Mama disowned me and Tierney’s loyalty was with my husband.
We arrived at the shooting range twenty minutes later. Tiernan got out of the car and rounded it, opening the door for me.
It was a massive black building that looked like a gym from the outside. The first floor was a weapon shop. Tiernan placed his hand on the small of my back and steered me to the second floor through the stairs. The upper floor was the actual range. There was a lobby manned by a guy with a backward baseball cap and a black Henley, firearms and earmuffs on display behind him. There were also stalls, divided by black walls. A few peoplewere practicing, and the scent of gunpowder and hot metal slipped into my nostrils.
Tiernan and the guy at the lobby exchanged bro-hugs.
“Callaghan, my good man. How’s it been?”
“Jace. Is my wife’s gun ready?” Tiernan parked an elbow on the counter.
Mywhat?
Jace nodded, reaching under his counter and taking out something that looked like a luxury brand shoebox. He dragged it across the counter toward me. My eyes darted to my husband.
He jerked his chin. “Open it.”
I popped the lid hesitantly, my mouth breaking into an involuntary beam.
It was a hot-pink gun, studded with diamonds around the muzzle. The trigger was covered in pure white silk. It was ridiculous, over-the-top, and completely me. It was also the first gift Tiernan ever gave me.
“Wilson Combat SFX9.” Tiernan’s lips moved in my periphery. “Custom made.”
Before I could stop myself, I flung my arms over his shoulders and pulled him into a grateful hug. He froze between my arms, his arms at his sides.
It reminded me that Tiernan had his own issues with intimacy and maybe embracing me from behind was all he could offer me right now. He touched people only on his terms.
Still, I didn’t step back. On the contrary, I hugged him even tighter, wanting to suck in all of his trauma.
Eventually, he defrosted, his posture relaxing against me. He didn’t hug me back, but he didn’t push me away, either. I took that as a small win. After a few moments, he pulled back gently. He cupped my jawline, peering into my face. “You like it?”
“I love it.”
“Good, because you’ll be carrying it at all times starting today. Here. I’ll show you how to load and case it.”
I spent the next twenty minutes with Tiernan, who familiarized me with the mechanics of the gun. Most of it I recognized from seeing my brothers practicing their shots as teenagers in the backyard. After Tiernan was certain I knew the ins and outs of handling and operating my firearm, we picked the farthest booth in the range. He put eye protection and earmuffs on me.
He placed himself right behind me in front of the shooting target—a printout of a faceless man—and engulfed my hands from behind, lacing my fingers into the gun to put me in position.
My heart kicked into high gear at his proximity. He was so much taller than me, he had to crouch when he tugged one of my earmuffs behind my ear and placed his lips close so I could feel the shape of his words on the shell of it.
“First things first, you always treat your gun like it’s loaded. You never shoot until you’re sure of your target and everything beyond it. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded. I did understand. But I was too busy with the sensation of his body pressing against mine to actuallycomprehend.
“We all have a dominant eye. Mine was taken by Achilles. Yours is your right eye. Its pupil moves first when you read lips. This is the eye you’ll always keep open. Nod.”
Another jerk of my chin. I felt his erection digging into the curve of my lower back. He made no attempt to shift away, but also didn’t draw any closer.
Would it really be so bad if we had sex the way he preferred? It wasn’t like I had anything else to compare it to. And something in me wanted to please my husband.
“Your goal is to form small groups at the same point to check your accuracy. Choose a spot on the target.”
“The center of his chest,” I answered verbally. He nodded, his stubble brushing against the side of my neck.
His scent. His touch. His very existence made me drunk.
“Pay attention to your wrist. Here.” He adjusted my hands. “This’ll help you avoid jams. Watch your stance, baby.” He kicked my legs apart, and the movement was so confident and erotic that something inside me clenched and heated.
