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Saturday, November 7, 2009
I know I've used this scene before, but it's perfect for today's subject covering weaponry. Yup, it's another snippet from Personal Protection. By now you know Sam has a weapon I'd love to see him pull out, but in this one he's focusing on Rosie's. And she's not even aware that it's not her gun. Of course neither is his. Ooops, sorry about that, got off track. Yes, that's a sneak peak into my dirty dirty mind!
By the way, have I mentioned that Personal Protection is coming out in print on March 1, 2010?
Hearing the muffled sound of gunfire beyond, he opened his locker and selected a pair of ear plugs, then signed out a box of ammo and a couple of paper targets.
As it did every time he entered the range, the familiar scent of gunpowder both soothed and irritated him as it reminded him how much he missed the camaraderie out in the field. Now he drove a desk, having to get his thrills through reading others’reports, instead of the adrenaline rush of guarding a principal himself.
Two shooting booths were already occupied, including his favorite one at the far end. Chad—he should have guessed his area manager would be on the range this early, and… Well, well, well, instead of wearing her usual pair of baggy cargo pants, Ms. Rosalinda Ramos wore a pair of hip-hugging blue jeans. Jeans that hung low enough he could tell that she wore a blue thong and had some sort of tattoo on the small of her back. Aw, damn, he didn’t need to know that. Now he’d be thinking of taking those jeans off her all day to discover what the rest of the tattoo was and just how far down it went.
She raised her gun and fired. The shot hit directly in the heart of her target. She fired again. The second shot doubled the size of the original hole. She glanced over her shoulder, then muttering something he couldn’t hear, put her gun on the counter and bent over to fiddle with her left shoe.
Oh, mama, her jeans pulled taut over the tight round globes of her ass. An ass that begged to be squeezed. To be fucked. With a groan, he adjusted his pants, his dick firming at the thought of being buried in such a tight channel.
Ever since she’d won him in the charity bachelor auction three months before, he’d sensed a carefully hidden sensuality in Ms. Ramos. As if deep within, she guarded a slow burning ember waiting to be ignited. A fire that would set his world ablaze.
He’d been hard pressed not making a move on her the night he’d fulfilled his obligations and taken her to dinner. Though he’d wanted to see if he could add a little oxygen to the fire and kick start the inferno, he’d held back. He’d had to. She was his employee after all. So instead of making a move, inviting her up to his place or pressing his case when he’d escorted her home, he’d been the perfect gentleman. At least that’s how she’d described his behavior the next morning, much to his disgust and everyone else’s amusement.
But damn, it was getting tougher to maintain his hands-off policy. That element of danger and the heat he was sure would envelop them both was too enticing to resist. If he just had the right reason to breach her defenses…if he could find some way to let her make the first move.
Rosie straightened and took two more shots. Both shots were low and outside, yet the center of the target had a good half-dozen holes from where she’d been firing before he’d arrived. Interesting, had he thrown off her concentration?
Seeing his opening, he strode over to her. His body touching her in all the right places, he wrapped his large hand around hers over the gun barrel, repositioning her fingers. Dayam, it was like holding a sparrow, her hands were so tiny.
He leaned down and nudged her earmuffs so he could murmur in her ear, lowering his voice to a whisper, “It’s better this way.”
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