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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.

“Your turn, Amelia.”

She blinks quickly, almost as if she needs to clear the fog from her eyes. Pushing back against me, Amelia walks toward the table. I’d chosen three beginner firearms for her to choose from. There is a .22 revolver, a .9mm handgun, and then my personal Colt 1911 .45mm. The air in the booth is different now, a power settling as she picks up the Colt 1911 before heading to the window. She looks relaxed and I wasn’t expecting that. There isn’t a single anxious tell coming from her and her confidence is regal. It reminds me of the way I would slip into a different persona in the field.

I watch as she reaches the window and there is an exhale before Amelia speaks.

“Help me?” she asks, a timidness creeping into her voice that is in complete contrast to what I just witnessed.

I push myself off the table, walking toward her. She’s still facing the targets which gives me time to appreciate the curve of her ass, the way her thick thighs look in those leggings. She’s a full-on wet dream and I’m the lucky bastard with her tonight. I reach her, hands coming around to her arms, brushing them until my hands grip hers. “Here. Steady grip, loose shoulders.” I slightly push my body against hers, leaning forward and resting my chin on her shoulder. “Widen your stance, that’s it.” I feel her breathe in once, a deep breath, as her jaw sets. “Set your target, aim, fire” A shot rings out and her aim is true. She doesn’t move from my grasp. I turn my head into her, my nose now brushing against her cheek.

“Good girl.”

She shivers, eyes slightly widening at my words. Interesting. I think my girl has a praise kink.

“Can I try on my own?” she asks, determination setting into her frame. I step back, letting her have this moment. I watch as she clears the piece, checks it, and then finds her target. She doesn’t miss again.

And again.

Once more.

At no point does she waiver or falter, her shots are confident and land without fail.

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” I question, trying to keep the shock out of my tone.

“My papa. He made sure I knew my way around a firearm just in case the day came I needed to fight back.”

I cock my head, curious about the woman in front of me. I never expected her to be able to shoot, let alone that well. It only adds to the puzzle that she is. I move toward her, her eyes searching for purchase. There is a piece of hair hanging in her face and I reach up to move it, taking in her reaction.

“What would you need to fight against? I murmur. “Surely you wouldn’t need to practice until you don’t miss.”

“There are monsters in the dark and I was his only daughter. Making sure I was a better shot than someone else was how he showed his love.” There is something that flickers in her gaze and as soon as I notice it, it's gone.

“It’s hot, honestly.” She chuckles, a shake of her head tells me she doesn’t believe me. “No, really it is. There is a confidence with you when you shoot, like nothing can touch you.”

“I’m better with knives.” She peers up through her lashes, biting her bottom lip. “You wouldn’t happen to have some of those, would you?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Amelia. I’ll remember that for next time.”

Her face lights up, and a full smile radiates across it.

“I’ll bring mine.”