Chapter 39
Mack slid the Glock back into her hands, his gaze never leaving her face. "You've got the basics down. Now I'm going to show you how to move with it. A fight isn't standing still, Vi—it's control under pressure."
She gave a short nod, her pulse already quick from the kiss he'd stolen moments before.
"Feet light. Think balance." He stepped behind her, close enough that his chest brushed her back, his arms wrapping around hers as he guided the gun. "Shift your weight with me."
They moved together, side to side, his voice low and steady in her ear. "Keep your elbows loose… breathe… the gun follows you, not the other way around."
His hands adjusted hers, warm and firm, his thumbs brushing along the backs of her knuckles. She could barely concentrate on the target when every nerve in her body was lit up from his touch.
"Like this?" she asked, forcing her voice not to tremble.
"Exactly like that." He leaned down, lips so close to her neck that her knees almost buckled. "You learn fast. Makes me wonder how much more I could teach you… if you'd let me."
Viola's breath hitched, and when she fired, the bullet slammed dead-center.
Mack chuckled darkly. "Look at that. Perfect." His mouth brushed the shell of her ear. "Guess I bring out the best in you."
Heat shot through her—equal parts pride and need. But then his hand slid lower, curling around her hip, fingers pressing into her waistband in a way that had nothing to do with shooting.
"Mack…" she warned, her voice shaky.
"What?" He didn't sound remotely sorry. In fact, he pressed closer, his hard body flush against her back. "You want me to stop teaching?"
Her head tilted back against his chest without meaning to, her lips parting. "This… doesn't feel like teaching."
"It's both," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Gun control. And self-control. One you're learning…" His hand shifted just enough to make her gasp. "…the other, not so much."
Viola spun out of his grip, breathless, setting the Glock down before she lost her nerve completely. "You're impossible."
Mack just grinned, slow and dangerous, stalking toward her. "And you like it."
Her stomach twisted because God help her, he was right.
Mack slid the Glock back into her hands AGAIN !, his gaze never leaving her face. "You've got the basics down. Now I'm going to show you how to move with it. A fight isn't standing still, Vi—it's control under pressure."
She gave a short nod, her pulse already quick from the kiss he'd stolen moments before.
"Feet light. Think balance." He stepped behind her, close enough that his chest brushed her back, his arms wrapping around hers as he guided the gun. "Shift your weight with me."
They moved together, side to side, his voice low and steady in her ear. "Keep your elbows loose… breathe… the gun follows you, not the other way around."
His hands adjusted hers, warm and firm, his thumbs brushing along the backs of her knuckles. She could barely concentrate on the target when every nerve in her body was lit up from his touch.
"Like this?" she asked, forcing her voice not to tremble.
"Exactly like that." He leaned down, lips so close to her neck that her knees almost buckled. "You learn fast. Makes me wonder how much more I could teach you… if you'd let me."
Viola's breath hitched, and when she fired, the bullet slammed dead-center.
Mack chuckled darkly. "Look at that. Perfect." His mouth brushed the shell of her ear. "Guess I bring out the best in you."
Heat shot through her—equal parts pride and need. But then his hand slid lower, curling around her hip, fingers pressing into her waistband in a way that had nothing to do with shooting.
"Mack…" she warned, her voice shaky.
"What?" He didn't sound remotely sorry. In fact, he pressed closer, his hard body flush against her back. "You want me to stop teaching?"
Her head tilted back against his chest without meaning to, her lips parting. "This… doesn't feel like teaching."
"It's both," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Gun control. And self-control. One you're learning…" His hand shifted just enough to make her gasp. "…the other, not so much."
Viola spun out of his grip, breathless, setting the Glock down before she lost her nerve completely. "You're impossible."
Mack just grinned, slow and dangerous, stalking toward her. "And you like it."
Before she could fire back, the sound of footsteps echoed through the concrete range.
"Yo, Mack!" one of his friends called out, a tall man with close-cropped hair and a cocky grin. Behind him, three more of his teammates followed, all carrying their own rifles and cases. "Didn't know you were breaking in recruits."
Mack's jaw tightened. He turned, broad shoulders blocking Viola from their view for a moment, before stepping aside just enough to introduce her.
"This is Viola," he said, voice flat but laced with an edge that made it clear she was not just anyone.
His friends gave her curious looks, then polite smiles—at least at first. But when she picked the Glock back up and squared her stance, their expressions changed.
One of them whistled low when she fired, nailing another bullseye.
"Damn, Mack, she's got better aim than half the rookies."
Another leaned his elbow on the divider, watching openly. "She's got form. You teaching her or she teaching you?"
Their laughter echoed, good-natured but admiring, and Viola felt her cheeks warm under the attention. She wasn't used to men looking at her this way—like she was capable. Strong.
She smiled despite herself.
And Mack nearly growled.
His arm snaked around her waist, dragging her back against him as he murmured low, "Don't get used to that." His lips brushed her temple as he guided her hands back into position, ignoring the knowing smirks from his friends.
"Eyes on me, Vi," he ordered, his voice harder now, his possessiveness wrapping tight around every word. "Not on them. Always me."
The next shot she fired hit dead-center again—but this time her pulse was racing for a whole different reason.