Page 9 of Wrecked (McIntyre Security Bodyguard #16)

I clip on a paper target and send it out to the fifty yard mark. Then I load a magazine with rounds and put on ear protection. This time, without having someone watching over my shoulder, I’m going to have fun. My first eight shots make a perfect heart shape in the center of the target’s torso.

I empty the rest of the magazine into the target’s head, dead center, shredding the piece of paper.

It’s not until I’m reloading the magazine that I realize I’m not alone. I can feel eyes on the back of my head, and a shiver skates down my spine. It takes all I have not to visibly shiver.

Because I know who it is behind me.

When I glance back, I’m not surprised to find Cooper standing there, a small gun case slung over his shoulder.

He scans me from head to toe and finally settles on my eyes. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not even a hello?” I ask. I’m irritated that the guy walks right up to me and asks like it’s just another Tuesday. I haven’t seen or talked to him in months . We live in the same freaking building, but he can’t trouble himself to stop by and say hello. “How did you even know I was here?”

He raises his phone. “I get a notification every time someone signs in here. Your name popped up on my phone, and since I was already in the neighborhood, I thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

“That’s bullshit. You weren’t in the neighborhood. There’s nothing for miles around.”

Cooper shrugs as if to say busted . “Mind if I join you?”

“Suit yourself,” I say. “It’s your range, right?”

He lays down his gun case on the bench seat and pulls out a Glock 19 as well as a box of ammo. While he’s loading, I pull in the ruined target and replace it with a fresh one before sending it back out to the fifty yard mark.

When Cooper’s done loading his gun, he sends the target back to the one-hundred-yard mark. He grasps his gun with two hands, takes aim, and shoots the target dead center between the eyes. One shot.

Damn.

Well, Shane did say the man was a former sharpshooter. I can see why. His aim is impeccable.

“Try it,” Cooper says, motioning for me to take his place front and center.

I take a shot and miss.

“Try again,” he says.

The second time, I manage to graze the target on the shoulder. “Great. I gave him a flesh wound. Basically, I managed to piss him off.”

Cooper chuckles. “At least you hit it. Your first shot went wide by about four inches.”

We take turns shooting. Cooper stops me occasionally to give me a tip.

We each empty two magazines.

It takes me a while to realize I’m not hearing any other gunfire in the gallery. We’re the only ones left. Cooper must realize it, too, because he lays his gun in its case and takes off his ear protection.

I take off mine, too.

“It’s been a while,” Cooper says. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” I start packing up my gear. I need to get out of here before I do or say something stupid. He may find it easy to ignore me, but being around him rattles me. Makes me want things I can’t have.

Cooper sighs. “Look, Sam, I don’t—”

“You don’t hook up with co-workers. Yeah, I get it.” It’s impossible for me to keep my resentment out of my voice.

He runs his long fingers through his short gray hair. “I know this sounds like a cliché, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Try harder.”

He shakes his head. “The problem is, I don’t want to try harder.”

When Cooper steps forward, I step back. He takes another step, and suddenly my back is against the metal partition of our stall. My heart is pounding. He’s a natural predator, and I feel like prey.

Cooper cups my face with his hands. “One kiss wasn’t enough.” And then he leans in and covers my mouth with his.

This kiss isn’t frenzied like our first one was. This one is slow, more intimate, a simple touching of lips, clinging, a controlled brush of flesh against flesh.

Cooper slips a hand behind me and cups the back of my head, and it’s one of the sexiest things a man has ever done to me.

When a desperate, needy moan slips out of me, my face heats up.

“Invite me back to your place,” he says.

It’s not a question. It’s a demand. One I can either obey or ignore.

There’s no doubt in my mind I want to obey. Hell, yes . More than I’ve ever wanted anything. But something tells me this would be a mistake, just like the last time.

“Sam?” His voice is firmer now, lower and rougher, as if that’s even possible.

I swallow hard. I feel trapped, like I’m sinking in quicksand. My body is screaming at me to say yes . To give in to him, do anything he asks. My heart is, too. My dick wants to know why I’m holding up the show. It’s my head —the one up top—that knows better.

Hell, Cooper’s not even out. I don’t want to be with a guy who’s not out. I don’t want to hide in the shadows. I want to shout it from the rooftops.

His hand slides down a bit to grip the back of my neck. That firm pressure sends my blood rushing south. I’m already so fucking hard for him. My balls feel warm and tight.

He leans in to murmur in my ear in that dark sinful voice of his. “I’ve tried to stay away. Honestly, I have. But thinking about you keeps me up at night, and I’m tired of jerking off to thoughts of you. I want to fuck you, Sam. The question is, do you want that, too?”

I swallow hard. God help me, because the word yes is on the tip of my tongue, and right now I’ve forgotten why this is a bad idea.

“Sam?” He brushes his lips against my cheek, then trails them down the side of my neck, sending shivers through me. “Are you okay with that? Will you let me have you?”

My head nods yes on its own accord, not bothering to ask for permission.

“You’ve bottomed before?” he asks.

I groan. “Oh, fuck yes.” My stupid knees go weak at the idea of him inside me. God help me, yes. I want this. I want him! And I’m stupid enough to say yes.

Cooper nods. “All right then. Let’s go. I’ll follow you back to your place.”