And right now, said humor was being used against me.
“You’re flinching,” Sasha said behind me, his voice lower and closer.
“Of course I am! I’m literally holding agun,” I cried.
“You’re anticipating the recoil.”
“Yes, because it feels fucking weird. I don’t like it.”
“It can be controlled,” he countered.
I shot him a gloomy look. “It doesn’tfeelcontrolled.”
“That’s becauseyouare not.”
I turned fully, glaring at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, should I be emotionally regulated while holding a fucking firearm for the first time?”
Kyrill snorted, so I turned on him and pointed a finger in his direction. “Not funny!”
He held his thumb and index finger close together, grinning. “A little funny.”
Sasha stepped behind me again, one hand on my waist and the other gently adjusting my grip on the gun.
“Focus,” he murmured near my ear.
How the hell was I supposed to focus when he was doing this thing where heexistedtoo close and smelled like danger and expensive soap?
“You’re distracting me,” I informed him breathlessly.
“I’m correcting you.”
His muscular chest was plastered against my back and I could feel a blush creeping up my neck. “You’re hovering.”
“I’m preventing you from shooting Kyrill.”
“Statistically unlikely.” Kyrill didn’t even look concerned as he took another drag from his cigarette. “She couldn’t hit me if I stand still.”
Excuse me?
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are we running numbers now?”
He slowly exhaled, the smoke curling around his face. “Yes.”
“I could absolutely—”
“Try,” he said, already stepping to the side and opening his arms like this was a demonstration and not an attack on my dignity.
Sasha immediately reached over and pushed the barrel down. “No.”
Kyrill smirked faintly. “You see? He knows.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re both insufferable.”
“We’re just trying to help, baby.”
“This feels personal.” My gaze bounced between them.
“It is,” Kyrill said. “You are insulting my eyes.”