Chapter 12 - Athena
“Adrian?” I call his name, and he answers from farther down the hallway. Tilting my head to the side, I try to figure out where he is.
“I’m in here,” His voice carries from the bedroom.
Without thinking, I hurry over to him, eager to ask what I want to ask. I don’t even think as I burst through the open door.
Adrian is standing half-naked, wearing only a pair of pants, rubbing a towel against his freshly showered hair.
I stagger to a halt; my eyes are desperately trying to look anywhere but at his perfectly sculpted form. Holy fuck, he’s gorgeous. He’s perfect. He’s so fucking beautiful.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize. I just wanted…” I trip over my words.
“Did you need something?” he asks, smirking at my awkwardness.
“Um, the gun,” I blurt out, trying desperately to remember why I came in here.
“Gun?” he repeats in confusion.
My eyes are refusing to be controlled, and I am still gawking at his masculine form.
I turn my whole body to the side and start fidgeting with the doorframe as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I want to learn how to shoot the gun,” I say, forcing myself to focus on the reason I came in here and nothing else.
“Oh, I see. That’s a good idea, actually. I should have thought of that already.”
“So, I can?” I ask, looking at him with my brows raised as excitement ripples through me. I thought he was going to argue and say no.
But then I remember he’s still half naked, and I quickly look away again.
“Sure. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll finish up in here and meet you in the living room. We can do our first lesson now,” he replies.
“Really!” My excitement spills from my lips without restraint. “Ok, sure, downstairs, yes, I’ll wait there,” I mutter, pulling my eyes down to the floor.
I need to get out of here. Right now.
Hurrying, I turn out of the door and practically run down the hallway to escape the sight of him.
In the living room, he doesn’t leave me waiting long. And when he comes through, he’s fully dressed. Black jeans. A black sweater. Still fucking gorgeous. The clothes don’t make him any less gorgeous.
Dammit.
Focus.
Shooting.
I’m going to learn something new today.
“Alright, let’s get going?” he speaks.
“Going? Where are we going?”
“To my dungeon,” he says with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.
“Your what!?” I blurt out.
He starts heading for the kitchen, and he jogs to catch up. Without a word, he pulls open the side door that leads to the basement.
I went down there when I was exploring. There was no dungeon.
I follow him down the steps and past the shelves of cleaning supplies to a brick wall.
He pushes against the wall, and the whole panel moves.
“No way!” I snap. “A hidden door!”
He laughs. “It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”
“It’s kind of is,” I grin.
We walk through the door into an entirely new section beneath the house.
Against one wall is a glass display case. The entire thing is filled with weapons, Kevlar vests, knives, and even swords. All locked away behind a panel that appears to be accessed with a key code.
On the other wall are different types of weapons and training gear. Batons, ninja stars, boxing gloves.
“What in the world is this place?” I ask, stunned.
“It’s the playroom,” he shrugs.
“I see that. Do you know how to use all of these?” I gesture over the gun display.
“Of course. I’ve had training in every single one.”
“Even the sword?”
“Even the sword.”
He ignores the impressive display of guns and opens a small lockable metal drawer, pulling out a handgun.
I pout. “Is that what I’m shooting with?
What about this one?” I point to a gold and pearl gun that looks way too big for me to hold in one hand.
He laughs. “You can shoot with that one when you’ve gotten the hang of this one,” he says. “That is a lot of guns to handle.”
I pout even more. Not impressed that he thinks I might not be able to handle something.
“I’m a quick learner,” I huff.
“I’m sure you are, but you still need to start at the bottom.”
I sneer at him.
“Come on, follow me,” he says, grabbing a box of bullets and two sets of headphones.
I follow behind him, and he leads me further into the playroom, as he calls it. At the back of the room, I’m shocked to find an entire shooting range set up.
He motions for me to stand in front of him, and I stare down a long, narrow passage with a target hanging in the distance.
“These are mufflers, they’ll help with the sound,” he explains, standing behind me. He places them around my neck. “When you put them on, you won’t be able to hear me very well, but I expect you to wear them whenever you or I are shooting.”
“Ok,” I say.
He places the gun down on the table in front of me. I immediately reach for it, and he grabs my hand. “I didn’t tell you to pick that up, Athena.” He snaps.
“Hey, you don’t have to be so rude,” I snap back.
“Well, maybe just focus and do as you’re told.”
I turn to glare at him, but he’s standing too close, and I end up glaring right at his chest.
Huffing, I turn back to look down the passage.
“This is called a range,” he carries on, gesturing down the passage. “That over there is your target.”
“Oh, come on, this is all basic stuff. I don’t need to know what this and that is called. I just want to learn how to shoot,” I grumble.
“Athena, I am not going to skip over the boring parts and have you not fully understand the rules of handling a weapon,” he growls at me.
His voice is dark and menacing and edged with annoyance.
For some reason, the deep growl of it sends a delightful shiver running down my back, and I let out a soft little gasp.
Thank fuck he doesn’t seem to notice. And thank fuck I’m facing away from him because now my cheeks are glowing red.
He wraps his arm around my waist and sets his hand with fingers spread wide on my stomach. He tugs me closer against him, and I let out a rush of air in surprise.
“Stand strong,” he demands. “Both feet firm.”
I try to do as he says, but being this close is distracting.
“My feet are firm,” I snap, only because I’m agitated with myself, because now, I’m remembering what he looked like without the shirt on.
“Athena,” he growls my name as a warning.
I bite my lip.
He brushes his hand down my arm, lifting it in front of me. “You’ll keep this arm straight but not locked at the elbow. And this hand will rest under here, beneath the grip of the gun.”
“Won’t this be easier to show me if I’m holding the actual gun?” I ask.
“Dammit, Athena, will you just let me teach you?” he snaps.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to force myself to calm down and not snap back with some childish retort.
“Fine,” I say quietly.
He takes his time, and I start getting the feeling that he’s dragging it out now on purpose to annoy me even more.
Finally, after telling me the name of every single part of the damn gun, he picks it up and places it in my hand.
“Always point it forward. Don’t even point a gun at someone unless you have the full intention and will to shoot them,” he says.
“That doesn’t make sense. Just because I point the gun doesn’t mean I am going to definitely use it.”
“That’s not the point. The point is that you have to be willing to use it. It’s not easy to shoot someone. It’s even harder to take a life.”
I want to ask him if he’s ever killed anyone, but I know the answer. And I don’t want to hear it out loud.
“What’s the first step?” he asks.
“Safety off.”
“Good girl,” he says, and another shiver of delight runs down my spine.
“Then?”
We go through each of the steps he’s taught me until finally, I am ready to take my first shot.
And I miss horribly.
Even though he’s pulled the target close enough for a child to hit it, I still miss.
The second shot is also a miss.
He places his hand on my stomach again. “You’re holding your breath. Don’t. Take your time finding your aim, then slowly breathe out. When you breathe out, pull the trigger as the air leaves your lungs. Gently. Controlled. Even.”
The next shot lands right in the center of the target’s neck, and I squeal in delight.
He laughs but cautiously grabs the wrist that has the gun in it because I’m waving it around like a lunatic.
“That’s amazing, kitten, but remember, always point the gun away from people. This isn’t a toy. It’s loaded. It’s a weapon.”
I nod, adjusting myself so that I can try again.
But while I’m aiming, he leans over my shoulder, and his breath is right against my neck.
He says something about focus, and basically, it’s a joke because I have zero focus.
My entire body is on fire. His hand is on my stomach; my ass is arched against him. I can feel every bump and curve that makes him a man pressing into my back.
“Take the shot, kitten,” he whispers in a deep voice. The command teases me. It taunts me. It spills heat between my legs.
I slam the gun down on the table in front of me and spin around to push him away from me. But he doesn’t budge. “How can I take a shot with you breathing down my neck?” I shout angrily.
“What the fuck?” he snaps in shock. “I’m only trying to help you!”
“Well. You’re not helping. You’re a terrible teacher!” I snap.
He cocks his head to the side, and his dark eyes pierce into me. I bite my lips and take in a sharp breath.
He hasn’t moved away from me, and I’m pinned between the table and his body.
“I’m a terrible teacher? Or you’re an impossible student. If you just took orders…” His lips are so close to my face. His cologne is distracting me. His body is hot against mine.
“Orders!” I blurt out. “You don’t get to order me around! What! Do you think I must jump if you say jump, or I must kiss you if you say…” What the hell. Please tell me I did not just say that. My voice clips off. My cheeks turn crimson. My lips part in horror.
His eyes widen, then narrow immediately as he studies my face.
I did. I said that. He heard it. That really happened.
“I…” I stammer, trying to think of anything I could say to hide my embarrassment or cover my tracks.
But Adrian isn’t listening anymore.
He lifts his hand and grabs my jaw. He tugs my face upward, so my mouth is tilted toward his.
And he kisses me.
His lips press into mine. His body leans harder against mine, and I’m shocked to find his cock is rock hard. The sheer size of it pressed against my stomach has my thoughts racing.
He moves his mouth over mine, and a moan of pleasure slips from my lips.
It seems to edge him on. He kisses harder, and his hand pushes down my back. He cups it over my ass and rocks himself against me.
Then suddenly he lifts me onto the table, spreading my legs and stepping closer, and he pulls me to the edge of the table so that his cock is pressing right against my pussy.
I moan again, this time with desperation as the kiss steals my thoughts and my self-control.
Adrian slips his hand beneath the waistband of my pants and slides it between my legs.
His fingers brush over my panties, and my thoughts scream.
The excitement, the fear, the overwhelming knowledge that I have never ever done anything like this in my entire life…
it feels like I’m drowning and flying at the same time.
His fingers move my panties aside, and my heart races faster.
I can feel how soaked I am as he slides his fingers over my clit, playing small circles over the most sensitive part of me.
He growls against my mouth, and without any warning, he pushes his fingers into me.
I cry out in surprise.
I was prepared, but not at all ready.
The pleasure was so intense it embarrassed me.
Adrian quickly steps away from me.
“Did I hurt you?” he stammers.
My face is so red it’s burning. Not just my cheeks. Everywhere. My whole body is blushing.
“Athena!” he demands. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no um,” I swallow hard and press my legs tightly together.
He cocks his head to the side, studying me with knotted brows. “Have you ever…” he asks, his voice trailing off.
“No!” I blurt out. “I haven’t. Ok. There. I haven’t ever done anything like this!”
I’m so embarrassed I want to cry.
“Athena.” His voice softens, but his face is bright with surprise.
“Just… let it alone, ok.” I slip off the table, fidgeting with my hair, and I try to wiggle around him in the small space.
For a moment, it looks like he’s going to try to stop me, but he doesn’t.
I bolt away from the shooting range and run through the playroom until I reach the door. I shove it open and run upstairs to hide in my room and die from embarrassment, and hope like hell that I never have to speak to him again.
Except I know I do. Because I live with him. And I’m already horrified to think about the moment when I have to face him again.