The Next Move (10 page)

Fifteen

         
"Shitty day?" Kat asked as she leaned her gun case against the wall.

         
"One of the best," Chris muttered, thumbing another round into the clip.

"Ah, one of those." She adjusted her ear protection, wincing as it snagged in her hair. "The kind of day that warrants…
 
Damn it, can you help me with this?"

"Yeah, sure." He set the clip down and carefully freed her hair from where it was caught. "Better?"

She fiddled with the ear protection once more, then nodded. "Yes, thank you. Long hair’s a bitch."

"Well, then it suits you, doesn’t it?" He grunted as she elbowed him. "My point exactly."

"Jackass," she said with a laugh. "So this was the kind of day that warranted spending an evening putting hot lead through paper?"

"Exactly."

         
She raised her eyebrows and set a few boxes of ammunition on the bench. "So what happened?"

         
He shrugged. "Just the usual bullshit. You know how it goes. Managers that want to manage the unmanageable, clients that want us to alter space and time to meet their demands, employees that, well, you know how employees are."

         
Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "Do I ever? I may have to fire one if she doesn’t get her head out of her ass, and the last thing I need right now is an empty desk in the call center." She nodded down the range towards his target, squinting behind her safety glasses. "How’s your grouping

tonight?"

         
"Don’t know yet," he said, snapping the clip into his pistol. "I just got here."

         
She stepped back as he raised his weapon. He squeezed off a few rounds, lowering it for a moment to check his grouping. Scowling at the four holes that were more or less at the center of the target, but not grouped quite tight enough to touch, he raised the pistol again and finished the clip. When he was finished, he gave the target one last look, dropped the clip, and put the gun on the side of the bench.

         
"You’re still flinching," Kat said, looking at his target, arms folded across her chest.

         
"What? No I’m not."

         
"Yes you are." She stepped up to the bench, pulling her rifle out of its case. "Mind if I keep using your target?"

         
He gestured dismissively. "Fire away." As she loaded her gun, he considered what she’d said. "Am I really flinching that bad?"

         
She nodded.

         
"Damn," he said. "I’ve never had that problem before except with that gun."

         
"Maybe the trigger pull is too heavy." She shouldered her rifle, aiming it downrange but glancing back at him. "Why don’t you try mine and see if it’s any better? The forty-five is in my bag." With that, she turned her attention downrange.

         
Chris stood back and watched her. Just like he had at the batting cages, he let the sight of her doing something he’d watched hundreds of times before, take him someplace else. He’d always thought it was beyond sexy to watch a woman shoot, but now, he couldn’t help but notice the way her body jerked slightly with each recoil of the gun. A familiar sight, but not just because he’d seen her shoot countless times. He was used to holding her hips when her body jerked like that.
Oh, if I could get away with it, Kat, I would bend you over that bench
…

         
He shook his head, tearing his gaze away from her body before the temptation became too much. Hell, it was already too much. The security cameras could probably see what she was doing to him.

Whatever it was that drew him to the range tonight,

he couldn’t remember. When she’d finished shooting and they traded places, he put his hands on her waist and let his hips brush hers as he moved past her.

         
She grinned and turned around, glancing down before looking at him. "I thought your concealed weapons permit expired."

         
He winked. "Don’t need a permit to carry that."

         
She gave him a playful look. "You know, maybe I’m not in the mood for a night at the range after all." She wetted her lips and squeezed his cock through his jeans.

         
He gasped, grabbing the bench for balance. "My sentiments exactly. Maybe we should get out of here, then?"

         
She winked.
 
"Sooner the better."

         
They packed up their guns, paid for their lane, and headed out. Since Kat’s place was closest and they both had guns in their trunks, he followed her to her apartment drop off her weapons. Then they rode together to his house.

~ * ~

         
On the drive to his place, he gave her a sly grin. "You know, I have to confess something. Even before we started sleeping together, I thought you were hot with a gun."

         
Her cheeks burned and she laughed. "Really?"

         
"God, yes. There’s just something about a woman with a high-powered weapon that’s…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "The number of times I’ve thought about bending you over the bench…"

         
"
Christian Bailey
!" She laughed. "You dirty bastard."

         
He put his hand on her leg and glanced at her. Shifting his attention back to the road, he headed off the freeway onto the main drag that led towards his house.

Anticipation rippled through Kat. "I’ll bet you’d fuck me while I was shooting," she said, grinning with satisfaction as his fingers twitched on her thigh and the car accelerated just slightly. "You could hold my hips steady while I fired away."

He squirmed in his seat. "Tease."

"Pity the range master is always there." She trailed a fingertip over the back of his hand. "I wonder, with you fucking me up against the bench, how
tight
my groupings would be."

Squeezing her thigh again, he said, "Assuming I didn’t

fuck you so hard you couldn’t see the target anymore."

She sucked in a breath. "You know, that might even be worth the risk of getting caught."

"Don’t tempt me."

"Don’t tempt you? You’ve never objected before."

He laughed. "You know what I mean."

"Right.
 
Don’t tempt you at the gun range. Duly noted." She paused. "But you didn’t specify anything else, so…" Freeing her arm from the shoulder strap of her seatbelt, she pulled her shirt off.

He looked at her, eyes widening, then faced the road again. "Now that’s cruel."

"Just because you can’t look doesn’t mean you can’t touch."

He grinned. "Don’t mind if I do." Reaching across the console, he cupped her breast, running his thumb over the fabric until he found her nipple. He circled it gently. "Pity you’ll have to put your shirt back on before we get out of the car."

"Then you’ll just have to take it off of me again, won’t you?"

He glanced at her shirt on the seat. "That’s not an expensive shirt, is it?"

She furrowed her brow. "Why?"

He chuckled. "Because it might get ripped."

         
"Oh really?"

         
"Yes, really."

         
"Hmm, maybe I should save you a step, then." She slid down in the seat. It was dark, but the streetlights could still give an eyeful to someone who looked at the right moment. Then she reached back and unsnapped her bra.

         
He released a breath as her bra went slack in his hand. Closing his fingers around it, he gently tugged it off of her arms, then cupped her breast again. His voice was a hoarse whisper. "I can’t guarantee we’re going to make it through the front door now."

         
Trailing her fingertips down his forearm, she said, "Do you have condoms with you?"

         
He cursed. "No. Do you?"

         
"Not one."

"Then I guess we’ll have to get in the house, won’t

we?"

         
"I guess we will." But as he pulled into his driveway, she unbuckled her seatbelt and, as soon as the car was in park, moved across the seats, kissing him deeply before he’d even unbuckled his own seatbelt.

         
He kissed down her neck to her breasts, gently rolling her nipple between his teeth. "You’re an evil woman, you know that?"

         
"And I think you like it."

         
"Oh..." He breathed against her breast. "I do. I definitely do." He flicked his tongue across her skin, then looked up at her. "Put your shirt on."

She gave him a playful grin. "What? Why?"

"Because we need to get inside the house so I can get inside you."

         
"Not yet." She ran her fingertips up his thigh, then squeezed his cock through his jeans. She smiled against his lips when he gasped as she found the zipper pull.

         
"Kat, please, I don’t want to wait. If I don’t get inside you—" He gasped again as her fingers closed around his cock, gently freeing it from his jeans.

         
"Do you want me to stop?" she asked, kissing him lightly as she stroked him.

         
"Oh fuck…"

         
"Do you want me to stop?" She stroked a little faster.
 
"Yes or no, Chris?"

         
"No. Please, don’t…" He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. "Don’t stop."

         
A second later, she took his cock into her mouth.

         
"Oh my God," he groaned, his fingers running through her hair. "Fuck, babe, I’m too turned on for this. I’m never gonna last this way."

         
She squeezed him and moved faster, running her tongue around the head of his cock before lowering her head to take more of him.

         
"Oh my God," he whispered. "Oh my fucking God, Kat, don’t…stop…" His fingers twitched in her hair as his cock twitched in her mouth, sending a tingle of electricity straight to her clit. The more it turned him on, the more it turned her on, and she went faster, faster, still faster until his back arched off the seat and he cried out. "Oh
fuck
!" His hand tightened suddenly in her hair and a second later his cock pulsed against her tongue as he came.

         
When she sat up, he pulled her into a deep, desperate kiss. Panting in between kisses, he said, "Put your shirt on." Another kiss. "Put your fucking shirt on. We’re going inside
now
."

Sixteen

         
On Friday night, most of their usual group had other plans, but Kat and Chris met David and Natalie at the club for drinks. It had been a hell of a week for everyone at their respective jobs, and a little liquid rest and relaxation was just what the doctor ordered.
       

         
When Kat and Natalie arrived, David and Chris were already there, having come directly from work, which was a few blocks away. As the girls sat, David stood up. "I’m going to the bar, anyone want anything?"

         
"Just Coke for me," Kat said.

         
"Looks like someone’s on designated driver detail tonight," Natalie said with a smirk.

         
"
Someone
has to get him home in one piece." Kat looked at Chris, expecting a smartass response, but his attention was elsewhere. Not on anything in the room, just…elsewhere. Kat raised an eyebrow. "Chris?"

         
"What? Oh, sorry." He cleared his throat, glanced at her, then looked at David. "Get me a rum and Coke."

         
"On it." David disappeared into the crowd.

         
Kat leaned closer to Chris. "You okay?"

         
Grimacing, he rubbed his neck. "I’m fine. Just tired as shit."

         
"Long week?"

         
He gave an almost imperceptible nod, flinching slightly. "Hell of a week."

         
"What’s wrong with your neck?"

         
He pulled his hand away from his neck, almost slamming it onto the table. "Kat, I’m
fine
. Lay off."

She winced, but not because he’d snapped at her. This

was all too familiar.

         
"Jesus, Chris, take it easy," Natalie said.

         
Chris released a breath through clenched teeth. "Fucking hell, can a guy not have a stiff neck without everyone giving him the third degree?"

         
Natalie snorted. "I never thought a stiff neck was a symptom of PMS, but maybe I was wrong."

         
Chris started to speak, but Kat put her hand up, giving him a look that made him think better of saying whatever it was on the tip of his tongue. She turned to Natalie. "Why don’t you go see if Dave needs help carrying all of our drinks?" Natalie started to protest, but Kat gave her the same look that had silenced Chris. With a petulant huff, she left.

         
Kat was quiet for a moment, surreptitiously watching Chris. "You know, I think I’m in the mood for a Jell-O shot. Want one?"
Please say no. Please say no
.

         
"I think I could go for that."

         
Shit
. Chris hated Jell-O shots unless he had a serious craving for something sweet, and that only meant one thing. Kat grabbed her purse off of the seat. "I have a better idea. Why don’t we get out of here?"

         
He let out a sharp sigh and turned towards her, wincing as if he’d moved too quickly. "Kat, I’m really not in the mood for—"

         
"I know you’re not. That’s why we’re leaving. I’m taking you home. Move."

         
He didn’t. "What? Why? We just got here."

         
"Because you’re getting a migraine."

         
He glared at her. "I am
not
, I’m fine…"

         
"Don’t argue with me. Get your coat."

         
He started to roll his eyes, but instead closed them and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger.

         
"See?" She nudged his arm. "Now let’s go. You don’t want to be in here when it hits you, and I’d like to get you home before you start getting sick."

         
"Kat, you’re overreacting." His tone was a low, angry growl, but the words slurred just enough to let her know she was right.

         
"No, I’m not. We’re leaving."

         
"Oh for fuck’s sake, Kat, I’m fine, this is—"

         
"Let me put it this way," she said. "I’m leaving. If you’re a hundred percent sure this isn’t a migraine, feel free to stay, but you’re on your own getting home if it turns out I’m right." She stood, draping her jacket over her arm. "It’s your call, but the Migraine Express is leaving
now
."

         
Scowling, he picked up his coat and they headed for the door. She caught David’s eye. He gave them a puzzled look, but she gestured at her temple, then at Chris, and he nodded in understanding.

         
Neither spoke on the way to the car. She was certain he was thinking of all kinds of things he wanted to say, but didn’t dare until they were in the car. At least then she couldn’t leave him stranded.

         
He pulled on his seatbelt. "I think I’d know if I had one coming on."

         
"You would think." She kept her voice even and calm. She’d long since learned to ignore anything he said in this condition. Migraines did more to his head than just hurt. She turned the radio all the way down, then started the car. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his subtle flinch when the engine turned over.

         
"It’s just been a long week," he said. "I could really use a night
out
, you know, not home with a babysitter."

         
"Mm hmm." There was no point in arguing with him. The person sitting next to her was not the normal, sane Chris.

         
After a while, he went quiet. She glanced at him. His elbow rested below the window, his hand over his eyes.
       

         
"You okay?"

         
"I’m
fine
," he growled.

         
She didn’t push the issue. His attitude only confirmed what she already knew. She was surprised she’d gotten him out of the club at all without much of a fight.

         
When they reached his house, she followed him up the front walk. He stumbled on one of the porch steps, but she put a hand on his back, steadying him. As he pulled his keys out, she plucked them out of his hand, tightening her fingers around them to keep them from jingling.

         
Once inside, she guided him through the darkness to the couch. "Wait here for a minute."

He didn’t protest, easing himself onto the couch. She

winced for him. If he was this quiet and pliable, the pain must have already set in.

         
Satisfied that he was more or less comfortable for the moment, she hurried upstairs to his bedroom. Flipping on the light, she did a quick sweep of the room, closing the blinds, turning his bright alarm clock away from the bed and draping a small towel over it. She turned off the light and checked one last time, making sure any hint of light was off or covered.

         
Gripping the banister, she felt her way back down the stairs and went into the living room. Fortunately, she knew his house almost as well as she knew her own, but even that didn’t stop her from misjudging exactly where the corner of the dining room table was. She clipped her hip on it, pressing her lips together to keep from yelping. It smarted, but she could deal with it.

         
In the living room, moving blindly towards him, she stumbled over one of his shoes, which she hadn’t realized he’d taken off. She carefully caught herself on the coffee table, trying not to jar him or the couch. As she did, her hand bumped a small plastic bottle, knocking it over and rattling the contents.

         
"Shit, sorry," she whispered.

         
"It’s okay."

         
She didn’t bother righting the bottle.
Well, that saves me rifling through the house to find his pills
. "Can you stand?" she asked, keeping her voice as low as possible.

         
"Yeah."

         
"Okay, come on." She held his arm as he rose and kept an arm around his waist on the way up the stairs. Judging by the weight of his hand between her shoulder blades, he needed the support. His balance was usually one of the last things to go before he was completely down for the count. The nausea was coming next and knowing Chris, he wanted her gone before it did. It used to make her nervous to leave him like this, knowing the worst was yet to come, but he didn’t like anyone around while he was in the throes of a migraine. It would pass, just as it always did.

         
She led him to his bedroom, helping him find the bed in the total darkness.

         
"Give me your phone," she whispered.

         
"My, my phone?" His words were slurred.

         
Shit, you are fading fast, my friend
. "You still have it on you, don’t you? Or did you leave it downstairs?"

         
Fabric rustled as he seemed to search for his phone. "Here."

         
She found his hand in the dark and pulled the phone free. Turning away and covering it as much as she could, she opened it and put it into silent mode.

Movement behind her caught her attention, but it sounded deliberate, as if he was shifting position, not losing his balance. The bedspread crinkled softly and a muffled whisper suggested that his head was on the pillow.

She closed his phone, careful not to snap it shut, and waited until the LCD went dark before setting it on his nightstand. In the darkness, she could vaguely make him out. He laid on his back now, his hand over his eyes.

Barely whispering, she said, "Do you need anything else?"

         
"I’ll be fine." He spoke through clenched teeth, taking long, deep breaths.

         
"I’m leaving now." She squeezed his hand. "If you need anything, call me."

 
        
"I will."