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No, as much as she was falling for Lassie, she wasn’t ready to share that part of herself with him. It would take more than six dates for that. It would take trust. And that was still something she was struggling with. But she wanted to get there with him. She hadn’t wanted anything this badly in a long time. She was tired of keeping everything bottled up inside. Tired of being suspicious of every person she met, assuming their motives for getting to know her were insincere and duplicitous.
Shoving down the memories that fringed her mind and threatened to incinerate the happiness she was currently feeling, she cleared her throat and hit the button for the target so it zoomed back down the corridor, then she spun around, picked up the gun again, staggered her stance and cleared her mind once more. The target sheet came to a stop and she fired off the remaining seven rounds in the magazine. The gun didn’t move so much as the width of a hair.
Once the magazine was empty, she set down the Glock and turned back to face him. The concern and curiosity were still there in his eyes, but the pride was back, too. The green of his irises twinkled and the tug of the smile at his lips sent her belly into a heated spin. “You’ve got so many layers, Rayma Young,” he said, shaking his head. “I never would have predicted—not even with the kind of former military company you keep—that you’d be a sharpshooter. I’m impressed. And I’ve definitely learned not to underestimate you.”
Her brow lift held a healthy dose of sarcasm and sass, she made sure of it. “And I’m waiting and waiting and waiting for you to peel some of the easier layers off me.” She pointed to her jeans. “One layer.” Then her gray long-sleeve shirt. “Another layer. I can take them off right here if you want.”
He rolled his eyes, but his grin grew wide enough she was worried her panties might suddenly burst into flames. “Soon. But first, I’d like to see what else you can do. Let’s up the firepower, shall we?”
She giggled and hopped where she stood, excitement rippling through her. “Oh, Lassie, you sweet talker, you.” Her eyes went wide. “Oooh, I wonder if they’ll finally let me use the grenade launcher?”
Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Marchfouryearsago…
“This is date number eleven, Jordan. You’ve kissed me, tickled my inner thigh until I came in a very swanky restaurant, and teased me so much I’ve gone through three sets of double-A batteries with my vibrator since we met. Is this ever going to happen?”
They were on the phone and Rayma was, once again, giving him the gears for stringing her along. But in his opinion, he wasn’t stringing her along. He was open about his interest in her, that he wanted her, but he also wanted to take things slow.
The slow burn was hot. The anticipation and build-up were almost as good as the real thing—almost.
But also, he knew what he was like in bed. Knew that he wasn’t every woman’s cup of tea, so he needed to make sure that he understood Rayma and what made her tickoutsidethe bedroom, so that he could better make her tickinsidethe bedroom.
He was sitting in his patrol car waiting for his driving partner for the day to return with their lunch, so he took the opportunity of being alone to quickly call Rayma when he knew she didn’t have class. They had a date that night after his shift ended, so he wanted to finalize their plans.
“I’m cooking dinner tonight,” he said. “Puttanesca, so come hungry.”
“You know what I’m hungry for,” she growled. “Dick. Lots and lots of dick. So unless you’re putting Puttanesca sauce on your dick—”
“Rayma, enough.” He could practically hear her mouth snap shut and that just made him grin, and his cock twitch. “Bring a toothbrush.”
“Seriously?” The smile in her voice and obvious excitement through the phone had him grinning even wider and his dick getting even thicker. “Oh shit!”
“What?”
“I need to go get waxed. Fuck. Damn you, Lassie. It really isn’t the best to be boning the same day you have all your pubes yanked from your flesh. A little heads-up would have been nice. I’m not scheduled to go until next week.”
He chuckled. “Hair doesn’t bother me.”
“Yeah, well, it bothers me. Damnit.” She hummed. “I suppose I could just shave and push my appointment back a few weeks. But I really hate shaving.” She was rambling, talking to herself and trying to sort out her waxing appointment, but he had to cut her off.
“Rayma. I do not care about hair. Waxed, not waxed, doesn’t bother me. Just be at my place at eight, got it?”
“Yes.”
“And bring your toothbrush.”
There was that smile in her voice again. “Okay.”
Victor opened the door to the deli they were parked in front of, his arms loaded. He gave Jordan a chin jerk, indicating Jordan needed to open up the driver’s side door for him.
“Listen, babe. I gotta run. But I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“I can’t wait,” she purred. “Oh wait!”
“Hmm?”
