Chapter 18 #2
I didn’t hear him move closer, but I felt him there.
It was like gravity had shifted and he was pulling my awareness.
I believed him about the guy in the room; he was blowing off steam, taking it out on the man.
Just as we’d left the room, the man started screaming again.
Jasper had let out a low laugh at my look of relief.
I’d never thought Jasper was a saint, but it was a sharp reminder of the powerful, dangerous man that he was.
I had maintained a healthy fear of him, even if it had blended into lust, but the fear was back in full force.
I could hardly keep my knees locked because I was so scared.
I had just watched him shoot a man and now we were playing with guns? What if he turned his anger on me?
“Finger off the trigger until you’re ready,” Jasper said, voice low. “You don’t aim until you know what you want to hit.” He’d barely spoken since we got to the range. He didn’t need to.
He’d set up the targets, loaded the weapon, and handed it to me without a word—like he already knew how this would go.
I adjusted, trying to copy his tone, his stillness. My quivering finger pulled the trigger and fired the gun. I muttered a low curse when I missed. I got the feeling he wouldn’t let this go until I hit a couple targets and we both relaxed a little from the earlier events.
“Go on,” he said, now standing behind me. His voice was steady and quiet, filled with an authoritative tone. “Show me how brave you are.”
I repeated my earlier action. Raised the gun, fired, and missed.
“Grip’s too tight,” he said, stepping forward. “You’re choking it. Let me.”
His hand slid over mine, cool and controlled. His chest brushed my back, deliberate. He adjusted my arms, my fingers, my stance. It should’ve felt instructional.
It didn’t. It felt like foreplay. The sensations that danced over my skin fought to blur the wild thoughts in my mind. I’d just watched him shoot someone, and now that same fear was caught in the space between being frightened and completely turned on.
“Again.”
I fired. It hit barely left of center. My knees almost gave out.
“You’re holding it wrong,” Jasper said behind me, his voice low, lethal in its calm.
“I hit the target.”
“You brushed it.”
He stepped into my space. Not rudely or urgently. Just…unavoidably.
“But if someone’s coming for you?” His breath touched my neck. “You don’t brush.”
He adjusted my arms again, his body closing over mine like a second skin. He didn’t rush. He didn’t ask. He corrected.
“Hands loose.” His palm flattened over my stomach. “And breathe here. Not in your throat. That’s fear. I want control.”
I did as I was told. Sort of. It was hard to breathe at all with him this close.
“Again.”
I fired and the bullet stuck just right of center. My knees wobbled, threatening to drop me to the ground, and I did my best not to show it. Jasper leaned down and his mouth brushed the shell of my ear.
“Pretty good, but you’re still aiming like you don’t know what you want to hit.”
I turned and tried to hand the gun back to him. He didn’t take it. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around mine—firm but unhurried—and guided my hand until the barrel pressed into his ribs. It made me rear back a bit and try to pull my hand away.
“Try again,” he said softly. “No hesitation this time.”
“Jasper…”
“Go on.” His eyes danced over mine. Cool, collected, and completely unbothered. “What’s the worst that happens? You shoot me?”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.” The metal trembled where it rested against him. “You think you’re scared of me,” he murmured. “But what you’re really scared of is this.” He tilted his head and leaned in closer. “Wanting me this much and knowing I haven’t even touched you yet.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“You keep pretending you don’t want it. At least I don’t lie about wanting you. I’m right here. Unarmed. Letting you aim, and your hands are still shaking.”
“Because you’re insane.”
“No. I’m honest.”
“Shut up,” I bit out.
He lifted my wrist slightly, shifting the angle of the barrel. “You want me to shut up?” His voice dipped low. “Pull the trigger.”
I didn’t move. Not even a blink for fear I’d accidentally shoot him.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “You don’t want me to stop. You want to know what I’d do if you gave in.” He pressed in, smashing the gun between us. “But if I were you,” he added, his voice lower now, almost affectionate, “I’d keep my finger off the trigger.”
“Why?” I whispered, looking at the danger glittering in his deep brown eyes.
“Because if you fire, it won’t kill me,” he said. “And I’ll take it as permission.”
The breath left my lungs. “Permission for what?”
He tilted his head, just slightly, like he was cataloging the way my lips parted. His eyes dragged over the flush rising up my neck.
“To stop pretending.” He stared at me. Calm. Waiting. “And if you give me permission, I won’t stop.” He paused. “If you fire, I’ll put you on your knees and make you say every filthy thing you’ve been thinking since the second you walked into the manor.”
My stomach tightened and twisted with his words. The fear and heat pulsed through me.
“I’ll make it hurt,” he added, barely above a whisper. “In the ways you like. The ones you can’t admit to.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I know,” he said. “And I know you’re wet anyway. You could pull the trigger right now. End it all. But you won’t. Because you don’t want me gone. You want me closer.”
The air between us burned. He let go of the gun just to lift a strand of my hair and curl it around two fingers. My skin erupted in goose bumps.
“You want to pretend you’re a good girl, but you’re not, are you, Eliza? You’d still want to fuck me no matter how many people I killed.”
I swallowed hard.
“Say that’s not true,” he said. “Lie to me.”
My mouth fell open, but all my thoughts swirled with the heat between my legs.
He grinned—small, devastating. “Exactly.” His voice went lower in a lethal caress.
“I’d pin you to the floor right here and you’d take it.
You’d beg for it. I’d put you on your back and fuck you until the leaves stuck to your skin.
Make you cry my name into the dirt.” He leaned close, lips brushing the corner of my jaw—not a kiss…
a threat. “But don’t worry. I’d still let you shoot me before I let myself fuck you. ”
I gasped at his words.
“Because I’d break you, Eliza, and not in the sweet way you’re hoping for.”
I tried to back away, but my feet were frozen in place. His words were pouring through me like electricity. I should shoot him just to teach him a lesson.
“I’d make it messy,” he said. “Loud. You’d hate yourself for how much you’d love it.” His lips closed and I could almost taste the lie in his restraint.
“I don’t want this,” I said unsteadily, knowing it didn’t land.
“No?” he asked. “Then why haven’t you moved?” He stepped away. “Again. Relax your shoulders.”
I gaped at him. He wasn’t serious.
“You need to learn.” For as unhinged of a mood as Jasper was in tonight, he seemed determined to actually teach me to be comfortable with defending myself.
“Why are you teaching me this?” I asked.
“Because someone’s going to hurt you eventually,” he said. He took the pistol and slid the magazine in with a soft click. “And I’d rather it not be me.”
The words hit harder than they should have. “You said you’d ruin me.”
“I will,” he said without even a hint of apology. “If you let me.”
My thighs trembled. “You could be lying about everything,” I said. “I don’t know what you’ve done.”
“You don’t.” He leaned in closer. “And it turns you on anyway.”
I didn’t deny it again. There was no use. Not with Jasper. He saw straight through me.
Instead of handing me the gun butt first, he pointed the barrel at my chest, closing in until it grazed my nipple before sliding it slowly up my throat, bringing it beneath my jaw. He tilted my chin up with it. The metal was cool but my blood was hot.
He smirked. “I think you’d let me ruin you. I think you’d let me use this gun to pin your wrists while I made you beg.” His voice was deathly calm.
I shook my head haphazardly and ran my tongue over my lips. His eyes tracked the motion.
“Not because you trust me,” he continued, eyes locked on my lips. “Because you want to know what it would feel like to finally give in.”
My knees finally buckled. He didn’t help. I swallowed, feeling the muzzle of the gun still at my throat.
“I’d fuck you so slowly, you’d forget why you ever tried to resist me.”
I shivered and pressed my thighs together.
He saw it and his smile darkened. He holstered the weapon like none of it had happened and turned. “Go to bed, Eliza.”