19. Stella #2
He carefully lifted the ear muffs, positioning them on my head before taking a measured step back.
Nerves fluttered in my belly as I grasped what I held in my hand.
This wasn’t merely a gun; Max was right, it was power.
I was learning how to protect myself and Charlie, reclaiming what had been stolen from me for so long.
I took a fortifying breath and braced myself as I pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out, and I felt my arms kick back with the recoil.
An adrenaline rush surged through my veins as I watched the bullet drift toward the target, almost as if in slow motion.
I completely missed the paper target Max had tacked to the wooden backstop, the bullet ricocheting off the side.
The shot didn’t hit anything, but it was still a shot.
I lowered the gun, emptied the magazine from its holster like Max had shown me, and placed both halves of the gun on the table. My hands shook with adrenaline, but my body buzzed with excitement. I’d done it.
Looking up, I saw a look of bewilderment cross Max’s face.
He looked at me, his expression one of pure astonishment, as if seeing me for the very first time.
Before I could think, he had me in his grip as his mouth crashed down over mine.
The heady rush of adrenaline continued coursing through me as I gripped the front of his shirt to keep him close, deepening the kiss.
His lips were warm and soft as they took control of mine. His hands were demanding in their perusal of my body, gripping my hips like he was drowning and I was his lifeboat. Our emotions snapped like a rubber band, but the kiss I returned was fervent, a desperate tangle of tongues and urgent need.
“Fuck, Trouble,” he murmured against my lips. “I couldn’t wait one more fucking second to have my hands on you. You looked so fucking sexy up there protecting yourself.”
A light laugh bubbled from my chest as I looked him directly in the eyes. “Right back at cha’, Cowboy. It’s the Wranglers for me.” I patted his taught ass for emphasis.
His laugh was infectious, and I leaned my head onto his chest to feel the gentle vibration. Hearing Max laugh was like a calming balm to my soul.
“How do you feel?” He asked, the brush of his fingers against my skin sending shivers down my spine as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His other hand lingered on my back, softly trailing across the fabric of my shirt.
“Honestly? Fucking terrified,” I huffed. Although I’d managed to shoot at the target without killing myself or Max, the fear of holding someone’s life in my hands, the weight of the gun barrel pressing against my palm, was still terrifying.
“Good,” he whispered, as his eyes caught mine again. “I’m terrified too.”
“Max,” I whispered reverently. His eyes blazed with a fiery desire, the unspoken longing practically crackling in the air as he heard his name on my lips.
“Seeing you up there, holding that gun, taking back the power of your own safety? Fuck, Stella. I’ve never seen anything hotter.”
A fleeting touch, like a phantom’s caress, grazed my skin as his fingertip trailed across my arm; a nervous laugh escaped my lips, and I quickly looked away.
Max’s endless stream of compliments, each delivered with an effortless smile, left me reeling.
I couldn’t get used to the unexpected warmth in his voice each time he offered a compliment; it felt oddly disarming.
But, that steely resolve he was so good at hiding behind? I wanted to snap it. I needed to know he felt the same intense desire as I did. “So, what are you going to do about it?” I asked from beneath my lashes, goading him.
“Hold up, just a second.” Max instructed as he gathered all the pieces to the weapon and stored them in their locked carrying case. My confusion must have been evident, because as soon as the case shut with a soft snick, he was on me again.
“Safety first,” he murmured against my lips as I laughed at his ability to be a walking green flag. Romance authors would have a field day with Max Daniels.
His hands were everywhere as he deftly guided us towards the barn. I’m not sure how his brain was functioning well enough to make it happen, but he did.
Slamming through the door, Max walked me backwards to what appeared to be a small office filled with dangling straps and saddles, his lips never leaving my skin.
It smelled like leather and it reminded me of Max’s cologne he’d worn on our night out.
A twinge of pleasure ran down my spine and settled in my core.
I’d never be able to smell leather without getting aroused again.
“Tack room.” He managed to grit out, in explanation, between kissing down my neck and urging me backwards.
I nodded in understanding as he backed me against a short workbench on the far wall.
His hands were explorative as he skimmed them under the hem of my tee.
I had thrown on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, figuring that since we were just shooting in the backyard, anything too fancy would be overkill.
I wished now that I would have at least put on a better set of underwear and bra, as my nursing bra and granny panties weren’t the sexiest things to exist. The thought of new underwear and bras, perhaps some silky ones, popped into my head; I’d pick them up next time I was in town.
Everywhere Max touched, left embers in its wake. Was this normal? I’d never felt this nearly animalistic desire to be with someone before. My skin tingled with a starved longing, and Max’s touch sent shivers of awareness through me, awakening a deep, primal need.
He lifted me up and deposited me with ease onto the workbench as he slowed our kissing. He caressed my bare hip bone and coasted his warm fingers towards my ribs.
I leaned my head back in wanton need as a breathy moan escaped my lips. Max took the opportunity of my throat bared to him to kiss up the expanse and nip at the spot right below my ear. Another moan coasted from my mouth as I gripped the back of his head to hold him against me.
“Fuck, Stella. I want you so fucking bad it hurts,” he groaned.
“What are you waiting for?” I teased, leaning back to give myself enough room to tear my shirt over my head. His pupils blew wide with lust as I reached behind me and unclasped my bra. Slowly edging the straps from my shoulders, I held the soft cups in place with an arm across my chest.
“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, or are you gonna make me do it myself?” I joked, coasting a hand down the plane of my stomach and teasing at the waistband of my jeans.
Somehow, even though I was still learning to love my postpartum body, I felt sexy and confident.
Max’s gaze followed my hand as his breathing turned to soft pants.
I could feel his rigid length growing hard behind the zipper of his jeans as he shifted between my legs.
Max looked at me with a reverence that superseded any doubts I had about my body.
“Well, Cowboy?” I asked again, as I’d somehow managed to short-wire his brain in the process of undressing.
As if all neurons fired at once, he snapped forward, gripping my hips and yanking me to him, my ass sliding across the workbench.
I let out a light yelp in surprise as he pressed our chests together, my arm trapped between us.
“You keep talking, and I’ll give you something else to do with that pretty fucking mouth of yours,” he whispered in my ear. I felt my core flush hot with desire at his words and fought the urge to grind myself against him.
“Now, look who’s tongue-tied,” he said with a wicked grin and a subtle bite of his bottom lip.