Under Wraps

clinging to his bottom lashes. “You did great. Really.”

I put my hands on my hips. “I shot the ceiling.”

Parker pursed his lips, and I imagined him gritting his teeth. “Yes, you did. But it was only your first time. You’ll get better.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Did you shoot the ceiling your first time?”

“Of course not. Let’s try it again.”

Parker put one hand on my shoulder and turned me around so his chest was pressed against my back again. He wrapped his arms around me and placed the gun in my hands once more. I breathed deeply, memorizing his warm scent of soap and singed gunpowder.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and warm and delicious on my neck. “How do you feel?”

Horny! I wanted to scream. Nina would have said horny, but she had no blood and thus could not turn beet red from follicles to toenails like I could. Also, she had the luxury of eating the source of her angst. Vampires were so lucky!

“I’m okay,” I squeaked. “I mean, the gun feels okay.”

Parker took one hand off the gun and pressed his palm against my rib cage, the tip of his thumb gently brushing the underside of my breast.

I was afraid I was going to fire the gun right then and there.

“Relax. You’re okay,” he said.

“I just …”

“I know. I have that effect on a lot of women.” He grinned down at me, that same, lopsided half grin that all at once was lust and hate inducing.

“I’m just nervous about shooting,” I spat, annoyed. “Is it going to make fire again? What if the casing hits me in the eye this time? Has anyone ever died from the back end of a gun? What if I shoot you?”

Hayes ignored me, but his arms seemed to close a little tighter over me. His hands clamped over mine again, and his thumb stroked mine as he guided my finger to the trigger. “Okay?” he whispered.

I nodded weakly, unsure if the sensation roiling through my body was fear or an intense desire to spend more time pressed up against his firm, warmblooded body.

“Take your stance,” he said, and I felt his leg between mine, pushing against my thigh until my feet were shoulder width apart.

“Ready.”

I took a miniscule step back, and Parker made up the distance so his hips were pushed flush against mine once more.

“Aim.”

The word was soft, moist, tender against my earlobe.

“Fire!”

I squeezed the trigger, and my eyes shut simultaneously. The gun recoiled hard, but Parker had me, one arm extended and holding the gun, the other clamped around my waist.

“Are you okay?” He looked down at me, his eyes a breathtaking blue. All I could do was nod spastically.

“That was better,” he said softly.

I stood up straight, squinting down the aisle toward the target. “Where did I hit him? Can we see it?”

“Actually …” Parker stepped around me and pointed at the dirt. “You shot the ground.”

“Crap!”

Parker looked away, grinning. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it; it’s just going to take some time. Let’s keep working.”

Parker spent the rest of the night coaxing my ceiling-and-floor aim to meet in the middle—or, at the very least, to hit the target—and I spent the whole night being folded into his arms and recoiling into his tight chest.

I may never like guns, but I was learning to love Parker’s instruction.

“Okay,” Parker said, taking the gun and unloading the magazine. “That’s enough for tonight. You’re doing a lot better.”

My arms felt like jelly and shots kept exploding in my head. “Are you less worried about my safety now?”

Parker jabbed at a button, and the paper target came sailing toward us. He held it up to me, and I could see four tiny gunshot holes near the bottom right corner of the paper.

“Not exactly,” he said.

I squinted. “I got it on the paper though. That’s got to count for something, right?”

Parker chuckled, his smile chocolate-chip-cookie warm and relaxed. “Yeah. Whatever you say, Lawson.”

Chapter Eleven

It was dark by the time we left the shooting range, and my stomach rumbled angrily as Parker pushed the key into the ignition. I blushed, feeling the heat rise to my ears.

“Sorry,” I said, as a flint of panic washed over Parker’s face. “I guess I’m just a little bit hungry.”

“Man.” Parker’s eyes dropped to my stomach. “I thought you were growing a baby dinosaur in there.”

“Geez, Parker. You’re a real gem. I can’t believe a woman hasn’t snapped you up yet.” I crossed my arms and sunk into my car seat. “Let’s just go.”

Parker shrugged, turning the key, a hint of smile playing on his lips. “You know what they say: The Lone Ranger rides—”

“Alone?” I finished.

“Come on,” Parker said, backing out of the lot, “you’re buying me a pizza.”

“Is that so?”

Parker ignored me, his grin knee-melting and annoyingly smug. “Yup. Training fee. You should have read the fine print.”

I dug into my purse and handed Parker a twenty-dollar bill. “How about you buy your own pizza and we call it a night. I’m exhausted.” And frankly, not so sure I could spend another hour alone with Parker Hayes without jumping those alternately frustrating and super-hot bones.

“Don’t worry,” Parker said as he maneuvered the car through traffic. “We’ll eat it at your house. You have cable, right?”

My stomach dropped into my groin, and I clamped my knees together.

This was not going to be good.

Twenty minutes later I was balancing a pizza box on my thighs and directing Parker to my apartment. My blood was pulsing, and as astoundingly hot or not Parker Hayes may have been, I had just determined to move him firmly to the Never in a Thousand Years pile. Especially since he really did make me buy the pizza (and a six-pack of beer, to boot). I was slumped in my seat, ticking off Hayes’s annoying attributes—sexist, demonist, thinks every woman wants him—when I heard him mutter, “Holy shit.”

My head snapped up, and I squinted at the glare from the police lights flashing red and blue into our car.

“Is that your building?”

I nodded, my mouth hanging open, my stomach immediately souring. “Uh-huh. I wonder what happened?”

There was a line of squad cars snaking into the street, and the police were filing in and out of my building, radios squawking.

“Nina,” I whispered, gulping. “I have to get in there. Something could have happened to Nina or Vlad.” I began to stand, my hand on the door handle, the pizza box burning a warm trail as it slid down my legs.

“Wait.” Parker’s voice was stern, his hand soft on my knee. “Let me find out what happened first.” Parker turned to me, his grip tightening on my thigh, his eyes firm and dark. “You wait right here.”

“No, no, I can’t wait.” I kicked the car door open and followed Parker, zigzagging into the line of squad cars, weaving around the officers.