Blyssful Lies (The Blyss Trilogy 2)

I watch as the muscles in his jaw clench with significant intensity. He turns his head to the side and gazes out into the woods. I look to the edge of the forest too, but don’t see anything. He’s lost in his thoughts, staring far away at nothing in particular. After a moment of silence, he lets out a weary sigh and briefly closes his eyes.

He turns back to me, cocking his head to the side while he squints his eyes against the bright sunlight, his tone beseechingly imploring. “This is the part where I need you to run on blind faith. We just went over this, Jules. We discussed the need for you to trust me.” Desperation begins to line his voice while he shakes his head. “Please, I am begging you; do not put me in this precarious position. It will only continue to frustrate us both.”

God, I want to give him every ounce of my trust, but something keeps holding me back. It’s the unsolved puzzle surrounding me, and it’s full of danger apparently, but he’s right—if we’re going to make any forward progress, I need to give him something. I steal a deep breath and nod. “You’re right, but if you were in my situation, I’m sure you could understand why I have so many questions, especially since we’re talking about guns and killing.”

“You’re right, and you’re handling it a lot better than I ever could hope to.” He cups my cheek as his thumb tenderly strokes along my lower lip, and gazes into my eyes. “I’m very proud of you; I hope you know that. I think you’re a very strong and courageous woman, and I will never take your trust for granted. I’m not gonna let you down.” He then leans in, giving me a chaste kiss on my lips and whispers, “I promise.”

He pulls away from me, getting right back to business, and I already miss his tender touch. Picking up the gun, he starts talking about safety and goes over handling techniques, and after about ten minutes, I try valiantly to pay attention, but honestly, he could be speaking a foreign language right now for all I know. I don’t know, nor do I care about the differences between this caliber and that millimeter. It’s one thing to have a thousand bullets of different sizes, but it’s a whole other matter having to work between the metric system and whatever other system.

He’s talking about a 9 mm, and a .45 caliber, and a paraba-something…oh, my gosh. Just shoot me now. All I need to know is what bullet is supposed to go into what gun, and I’ll be good to go. I don’t need to know all the whys and wherefores; it’s just too much for me to digest. I wonder if all men are this way when it comes to firearms, getting overly technical, and veering off track by talking about what each sized bullet is capable of. Then my brain goes off on a tangent, wondering why we Americans didn’t adopt the metric system. Who invented all this confusion?

He’s so engrossed in telling me the semantics of...ah hell...I have no idea what he’s trying to say. Who am I kidding? I’m not even listening, and I can’t seem to focus. All I can do with any bit of concentration is lust after the man. His hard chest is now at my back, and his arms are wrapped around me as we face the target. Both of his hands are placed over mine while I hold the gun in my hands. Pointing the Sig at the target, he speaks instructions softly in my ear and my eyes flutter closed. His rich voice sends lascivious thoughts to the forefront of my brain. I nod as if I comprehend what he’s telling me. He really has no idea how sexy and distracting he is, especially when I get a whiff of his musky, masculine scent; it’s game over. He radiates a pheromone that must permeate into the cell structure of every woman within a hundred mile radius, and me being up close and personal, I feel dysfunctional at every turn.

I glance to my right and wish I hadn’t. He’s even sexier in a ball cap. The bill of his hat is pulled down low over his eyes, and as he lifts his chin up, his sparkling green eyes pierce mine from underneath it and I lose my breath. I spy those soft, kissable lips begging me to run my tongue across their opening and to slip in...

“Jules...are you listening?” Snapping me out of my daydream, I blink my eyes several times as his voice phases back in. It’s not until he places his thumb on top of my lower lip, pulling it out from between my teeth that I even realize I was biting it. I feel his chest vibrate against my back as he lets out a hearty chuckle at my expense. “Damn, baby. If you look at any man the way you just looked at me, you won’t need a gun. You’re a lethal weapon in your own right.”