Page 23 of Bullseye
Waking up from a short, afterglow doze, holding her soft but toned body tight to my chest, I can’t think of a time I’ve been happier. Sure, there have been other women—lots of other women if I’m being honest—but it’s never felt like this with any of them.
Yeah, the sex was scorching hot, but this was more than that. We had a connection.
Just thinking about being with her… She was like this fiery little lamb—letting me take charge completely, keeping herself exposed outside when I commanded her to, nearly exploding when I disciplined her by spanking her sweet ass…
Cripes. Running my free hand through my hair, I suck in some deep breaths, trying to calm the frig down. Damn straight this woman is Wildfire.
And when Wildfire allowed me to dominate her completely… Well, shit, it made my dick harder than it hadeverbeen before.
Just thinking of her, so wet and responsive, with her soft breasts, tight ass, and dangerous curves… Oh shit. I’m hard again, already.
Chuckling, I glance down at her to see if there’s a chance she’s up for round two like I am, but she’s asleep. Truthfully, I didn’t even have to look. I could tell by the gentle rise and fall of her chest against mine. But I want to look at her again, just to make sure she’s real.
That it was all real.
That itisall real.
Damn, what’s happening to me?
The apartment’s dark except for the dim light that sneaks in from the edges of the drawn curtains, but glancing at her, I can see the gentle pink flush of her sculpted cheek. Reaching out with my free hand, I stroke it softly, and she raises her chin and lowers it again, giving a small smile in her sleep.
I like that she trusts me enough to fall asleep with me, but at the same time, it worries me. She shouldn’t trust me. No one should.
Suddenly, a flush of anxiety rushes up my spine and I feel so trapped, it’s all I can do to lie here, pinned beneath her beautiful body. No, it’s not that she’s actually keeping me here. Sure, I could jump up and toss her across the room if I needed to. But she looks so peaceful, I don’t want to risk disturbing her by sliding out from under her.
Still, I can’t calm my racing mind.
With my gaze darting frantically over the few, still-packed boxes she has thrown about the apartment, my mind is reeling with questions. Why hasn’t she unpacked? What’s going on in her life? Really?
Stop, Bullseye, stop.
Closing my eyes, I take more deep, calming breaths. What I’m feeling isn’t real. It’s just anxiety. There’s no boogeyman who’s going to jump out of the closet at any moment. Or is there?
Shit. Have I been careful enough? What was I thinking, dragging her into my life, even for one night?
Come on, Bullseye. Get a grip!Thank God that little voice in my head has some sense since the rest of me sure as hell doesn’t right now. The chances of Mikey and Tony finding me on this night, just to follow me to her apartment at this time, are nil. The entire scenario is preposterous.
I don’t have the luxury of thinking stupid thoughts. The only thing I can do is to be calm and collected like I always am. That’s why they call me “Bullseye”. Shooting depends on being calm. If there’s one thing I am, it’s cool.
So, why am I so damned worried about her?
Scrubbing my face with my free hand, I stare at the white-tile ceiling. I’m worried because the most dangerous thing that ever could have happened did—we made a connection. And if the past teaches me anything, it’s that connections are dangerous.
But…
If this moment—holding her tight while she sleeps on my chest—tells me anything, it’s that I will do what I have to, to protect her. No matter what that may be. Glancing down at her, I wrap both arms protectively around her and pull her closer—
Smash!
What the hell?
I’m out of bed like a shot, and still naked, rush to the kitchen counter where I left my gun.
Shit! I should have kept it on the nightstand like always. But only in the deepest, darkest areas of my mind did I ever think that they would really find me here. Why the hell did I ever think that I could have any kind of normal life? Even for one night?
“Bullseye?” Rolling over, she leans up. Resting on her elbows, she draws the sheets over her beautiful breasts.
Moving toward the window with my gun drawn, I see the curtains blowing from the newly-welcomed breeze, and a brick, lying on the floor.
