Page 60 of A Violet Obsession

We’re alone here.

I’m the only backup Finn has.

He crosses to the kitchen and cracks open a water bottle.

“Will you teach me how to shoot?”

Finn pauses mid-drink and then slowly sets the water bottle on the counter. “Why?”

I take a second to think about how to explain what I’m feeling. “My entire life I’ve made myself small, stayed quiet to avoid attention. My parents equated attention with trouble, so I learned to be quiet, and with Scott… Let’s just say the more he forgot I was there the better. And then when I rebuilt my life after…” My hand lifts without me consciously thinking about it and touches my tattoo. “It’s how I survived. I don’t want to be invisible anymore.” I give him a small smile. “Besides, I can’t always count on Hera to save me.”

Finn frowns. “I can keep you safe.”

“I’m not doubting that,” I hurry to say. “But you’re just one person.” The muscles around Finn’s mouth tighten, but he doesn’t argue. “I’m not saying I’ll be of much help, but surely knowing the basics is better than nothing?”

“You’re terrified of guns.” It’s not a question, and there’s no point pretending otherwise. He’s seen me freeze up.

I inhale a deep breath. “I am. But I don’t want to be so afraid that I put one of us at risk. Under normal circumstances, I would never ask you for this. I’d let you be the big, scary, capable one and stay out of your way.” I swallow. “These aren’t normal circumstances, and it’s not fair to make you carry all the responsibility. I’m the one Voss is after. I should be able to defend myself. Defend us.”

For a long moment he just looks at me, and I have absolutely no idea what’s happening inside his head.

“You’re sure?” he asks finally.

“No,” I admit. “But I want to be. That’s close enough, right?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Okay, Butterfly.” He pushes off the counter. “I’ll teach you.” But when he stops in front of me, his eyes stare so intently into mine I think he sees all the secrets I’m still hiding. His hand lifts to cup my cheek, and his thumb strokes over my cheekbone. “But, to be clear. You’ve never been invisible, Lily.”

21

FINN

“You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you.”

“It might,” Lily says, eyeing the pistol in her hands warily.

“Not unless you make it.” I step around to her right side, keeping my voice level. “It does exactly what your hands tell it to do. That’s the most important thing you have to understand. This is not a talisman. It doesn’t keep you safe just because you’re holding it. It can keep you safe because you know what it does and how to use it effectively.”

She looks down at the gun, then back up at me, and lifts her chin. “Okay.”

I can’t help but smile. It’s one of the things I respect most about Lily. She might be scared, but she’s going to do it, anyway.

But I shouldn’t have told her to change out of her dress.

I’d blamed it on mobility, but the truth is I’ve been half-hard since she appeared this morning in that red dress, which covered her curves like it was made for them. It wasn’t tight, but between the round neckline, and the way the fabric dipped in to skim her waist before flaring off her hips, it was sexier than if she’d been wearing a minidress.

There was absolutely no way I could stand as close I needed to with that neckline an inch away, and still keep a single coherent thought in my head.

When she came out in my hoodie and a pair of skin-tight leggings, I realized the mistake I’d made. Thankfully, when she’s standing, the hoodie is so large it hangs to mid-thigh. But every time she lifts her arms high or bends over, I’m rewarded with an unobstructed view of her round thighs and unbelievable ass.

Turning away, pretending to look at the view, I discreetly readjust myself and turn back. “Your stance is pretty good, but your grip is still off.” We’ve been practicing for almost an hour, and I’ve tried to fix her grip by not getting too close, but if she’s going to learn, there’s no way around it.

I come up behind her, fit my chest to her back, bring my arms around hers, and settle her hands in the correct position on the gun.

Stop thinking about how soft and warm she is, I admonish myself. Or how when a loose curl blows against my face it brings her smell to my nose. And when she turns her head to hear me better, the soft skin of her cheek grazes my jaw, and it feels like someone set off ordinance in my chest.

Magazine out. Chamber clear. Slide off the frame.

I run a field-strip of my weapon in my head, the entire sequence, because the last thing I need is for her to feel how touching her affects my body.