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Dante.
Our date.
The doors click, unlocking, and my hand is fumbling with the handle almost instantly, opening it, and then I run, meeting Dante halfway where he catches me and spins me as his lips press to mine.
You’d think I haven’t seen the man in months, rather than hours.
“You’re good, Marco,” Dante says over my shoulder as my legs loop around his hips, and I can see it from where I am, even so close to his face.His head goes into my neck, warmth blooming there as he murmurs, “Missed you.”
He has the world's biggest smile. He feels it too. That inexplicable joy when we’re together without the eyes, without the hiding.
“Three hours?” I hear Marco’s deep voice ask, and then Dante’s head nods before he presses his lips to my forehead and turns, walking us away from him. I wave at the big man with a goofy smile on my face, and he shakes his head, giving me a wave before getting into the blacked-out car and driving off.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, his hands moving to my ass to extricate me from him, planting my feet on the ground and grabbing my face before kissing me like he missed me more than air itself. When he breaks the kiss, I smile at him dazedly. Finally, he takes my hand, leading me around the cabin to the back. “Working on your protection.”
“What?”
But then I see it—behind the cabin is a small shooting range.
“My protection?”
“You know how to shoot a gun?” he asks, and I shake my head “no.”
“Don’t I need like, a license for that or something?” I ask as we approach the area. He looks at me with a smile.
“Baby, I think sometimes you forget who I am.” On top of a wooden shelf is a handgun.
“Got it. No licenses.” He takes a pair of earmuffs and puts them on my head, then puts a set on his.
“No way to track a bullet back to who purchased it,” he says, lifting the gun. His words travel through some unseen microphone right to my ears, and I widen my eyes but decide not to ask any more questions. He proceeds to show me the gun, where the bullets go, how to turn on the safety, how to know it’s loaded, and finally, how to shoot it. About ten feet before us is a paper man target thingy that Dante aims at before shooting, hitting the man right between the eyes.
“Impressive,” I say with a smile, and he smiles back. "Why do I need to learn if I've got you?"
“Want you safe. Don't worry, you’ll get there, fiorella,” he says, then he moves so my back lines up with his front, his hands grabbing mine until we’re both holding the heavy metal gun.
“It’s a lot heavier than I would have thought,” I say.
“That’s why we’re practicing. If you need to grab a gun and protect yourself, I don't want you surprised by little things."
Having the weapon in my hands reminds me how crazy this all is.
"Are you sure I need to be doing this?" I ask as he positions my fingers where they need to be.
“You want to rule by my side?” he asks, pressing his lips to the spot under my ear that gives me chills. I don’t answer, unsure of how to answer. “Then I need to know you know how to protect yourself.” His tongue moves, flicking out to lick my skin there, the cool air an erotic chaser to the hot move.
“Hand here, finger there,” he says as he finishes positioning my hands. “Then look down the barrel and aim. When you pull the trigger, there will be some kickback. I’ll help counter it, but know without me, it’s more,” he says.
“Got it.”
“Now aim and pull the trigger, baby,” he says, and I do, shocking myself with the way it vibrates my cold hands. “That’s it, great job.”
“I didn’t even hit the paper, Dante,” I say with a laugh.
“You’re learning. Try again.” His hands move to my hips, letting me aim on my own without him, and this time, I actually nick the edge of it.
“Good girl,” he says in my ear, the sound reverberating through my body. “Again.”
I do as he asks, my body on high alert with his voice, and this time, I get a shoulder.
