Gunner (Satan’s Angels MC #3)

Chapter 13

Diletta

B ikes have never been my jam but this bike, with my arms wrapped around Gunner’s huge chest, I like this one. My front is pressed to his back, leather on leather. I’m in his jacket. He set it on my shoulders and zipped me into it himself. It’s worn, heavy, and faded. Imperfect. It smells like him and that makes it feel familiar.

The growl of the bike between my legs is doing nothing for the smoldering between my thighs. All the power of the engine goes straight there. The wind tugs at my hair and whistles cold around my neck, hands, and bare legs. The night sky feels larger than it ever has as the streetlights and the few other vehicles on the road at this hour turn into blurs.

By the time Gunner pulls the bike up in front of my house, he might have woken up everyone in the neighborhood, but I can’t bring myself to care. I’m so hot with uncontrollable lust that my whole body is charged and overheated.

I know that this night is a loaded proposition.

Gunner never saw me coming. Not like this. He never thought I’d fight for him. I know that whatever happens tonight, that gauntlet I laid down is only going to last so long. There are far too few hours until dawn and the odds aren’t in my favor. I stole the power of choice from this man. He’s no longer in control of the situation. He’s not used to that, and he’ll try and wrestle it back. He thinks he knows what’s best for me.

We go through the front door. Gunner does up all the locks and then double checks them. He has his back to me but turns sharply with a frown at the sound of me unzipping his jacket and peeling it off my shoulders.

I still have his t-shirt on, but I tug it over my head. I want to keep it as badly as I want to keep this man.

Mine, mine, mine.

Dumb, insane, stupid.

My head is at war with itself, so I go with my gut. My gut tells me that I can trust him. We might not be in our right minds, and this might not be about love, we might not have the luxury of time, but it is about a connection that’s been building unseen, binding us together for years.

Maybe it’s destiny, or maybe we both just need a hard, dirty fuck. I know that Gunner isn’t going to listen to anything else I have to say. He shut down, thinking he could outsmart me. I might be playing dirty but fuck it. Sometimes dirty is the only way and fucked up is the only state of being.

I toss his t-shirt to the floor and strip off the fishnet thing. I hate it. It’s not me. But standing here in a black lace pushup bra that makes my boobs like twice the size they actually are, a miniskirt, and boots that go past my knees and have wicked heels, I feel hot.

“What are you doing?” Gunner grinds. He slams over to the wall by the door and kills the lights even though no one would be able to see through the blinds.

“I’m going to cook you something. What would you like? Chocolate chip cookies? Cake? You can’t say cheesecake because that has to set overnight and—”

He rushes across the room, as feral as he was at his club, but now it’s just the two of us in here. I’ve trapped myself with him, with his raw violence and his scorching looks that could strip the skin right from my body. He stops half a foot away, practically snarling. It’s a second before I can swallow properly and realize that it’s not anger on his face. It’s desire. Confusion. He’s still fighting himself. He won’t have to. He thinks he can save me, but I’m going to be the one who saves him from himself.

I watch him struggling with his control. He believes all that shit about tainting me. It’s so fucking sad. I hate this for him.

I’m the one who reaches for his face.

The helmet flattened his hair. I push it back from his forehead and cradle his beautiful, tragic face between my palms. He freezes, unblinking. I kiss his cheek, right above my fingertips. He jerks back, but I’m relentless. I kiss his other cheek, and then brush my lips over his. He groans, hands encircling my waist and crushing me up against him. He bangs his hips against mine, the height difference between us trapping the iron bulge in his jeans against my belly.

“You want to know what it’s like to be fucked by a monster?”

“What kind?” I challenge him. I hate that he thinks of himself this way.

He grasps my arms. His forehead never leaves mine. I can feel the heat radiating off his body and his hardness. I’m already wet with desire, if this is our one night then I want this. I’m sure you’d fuck as hard and as untamed as any beast.”

“Diletta,” he growls, reaching the end of his patience.

Yeah, well, I’m at the end of mine too.

I tug his face to me and smash our mouths together. There’s zero grace or finesse in it. It’s like kissing a metal pole for a second. An unyielding block with a palpable opposing force that tastes like sin and danger with an underbite of spearmint. It only takes a few seconds for Gunner’s control to snap. His body is like a whirlwind, his hands on my ass, picking me up. His mouth is wild, a freak blizzard in spring, an earthquake rocking through me even though my feet are no longer on the ground.

I wrap my boots around his waist, attacking his mouth. He gives back fiercely, driving us into the kitchen while he scrapes his teeth over my lips and brutalizes my mouth with his tongue. My head is a swimming mess by the time he sets me on the countertops.

He backs off, breathing hot against my lips.

“Let me guess, darling. The only thing you want to eat is me.”

He sinks down to his knees, groaning like I’ve just slain him. He blinks up at me like he can’t believe I’m real. For a second, I think that I might actually have broken him.

Fuck.

“What right do you have to be so perfect and brave? So fierce and loyal?”

“I’m not perfect. Not even close.”

“But you are.” His fingers dig into my thighs and then his hand sweep up. The words he didn’t say are loud in the dark kitchen. Perfect for me.

He pushes up the tight little miniskirt. It doesn’t have far to go. It was barely covering anything as it was.

I’m wearing more substantial panties. There was no way I was going into a club full of rowdy men and probably equally as rowdy women with a scrap of fabric over my ass and not having another line of defense.

Gunner wrenches them down, tugging roughly. I realize how soaked they are when the cool air kisses my skin. He pulls them to my thighs, and I wriggle to create space so he can go the rest of the way. I try to get my hand up to tug them over my knees and down my legs, though they’ll have to pass the boots first. Gunner knocks my hand out of the way and savagely tears them over my boots.

Shit. I guess those weren’t a problem after all.

His eyes flicker up to my face, burning twin brands, so beautiful and so real. I feel him in my chest, my belly, all over my body. Fuck. I just wanted to convince him to stay and think things over, not let him inside enough that he could destroy me.

There’s a question there too. He needs me to give him permission, even though I’m just as eager. I’m practically leaking all over my goddamn kitchen counter for him.

I spread my legs open, giving him a full view of my glistening, naked pussy. I lace my hands through his hair in case he still needs to be convinced.

Gunner’s calloused hands on my thighs start a brand-new tremble. I throw back my head, panting from his touch alone. I don’t give a shit what he’s done with those hands. I don’t care about his past. I want the man who didn’t get to have dreams. I want the one who saved his Don and then saved me. The man who wants to flee in order to set the world to rights because he can’t even begin to think there might be other ways. He’s known only two types of family, both of them relatively violent. He gave up one for me. I’m not letting him give up on this one. I want the good man that he doesn’t know he can be.

“You should have let me know you were out there years ago,” I murmur. “It would have at least given me new material for my fantasies. Would that have turned you on, knowing that I was in here while you were out there, watching me touch myself, knowing I was thinking about your creep show in the shadows?”

“Fuck.”

His mouth crashes right over my center. He licks me messily, without any strategy or care. He open mouth kisses me, using his fingers to open me up so he can trace his tongue over me. It’s brutal and noisy and my god, I fucking love it because this is so him.

I have to clutch his hair so hard it’s a miracle I don’t pull it out. I spread my legs wide for him, so his massive shoulders can fit between. I grasp the counter with my other hand. He eats me so hard he pushes me back but grabs my thighs and pins me to the counter. I can go nowhere against the onslaught of his wicked, torturous mouth. I get wetter and the sounds of him eating his fill get louder. My face burns, but not with shame.

“Goddamn it, let me ride your fingers,” I moan shamelessly.

I have no condoms here and I doubt he brought any with him. I wasn’t thinking about having his cock inside of me. At least, not in any way that wouldn’t have been just a fantasy. I never thought we’d be doing this right now. It should be too much, too fast, but it doesn’t feel that way and now I’m cursing myself for not being on the pill, but right now I don’t give a damn about anything except what’s about to happen.

He doesn’t respond, but he does move his mouth up, suckling my clit violently as though he wants to punish me for my dirty request.

“Oh!” If I could find words right now, I’d tell him where to go.

I don’t need them. He knows exactly where to go and what to do with himself.

He gives me his fingers after all. Not one, like a gentleman would, cautious and exploratory and sweet, but two that he hauls me directly onto. He doesn’t shove them into me like he’s trying to knock down a door with a battering ram. He uses more finesse than that.

I gasp, loving the thickness of those two fingers, bucking up off the counter just a little to try and get the right angle. I squirm around and he doesn’t pin me down. He lets me find it, slowly thrusting and letting my hips roll into him to get the timing right. I basically fuck myself onto his hand, wild for it and for him. He watches me for a second. I open my eyes and watch him watching. I think about him outside in my yard all those nights, observing me when I had no idea. The hair stands up on the back of my neck and my insides turn to jelly. The heat inside goes molten, arrowing down to my clit.

Like he senses exactly where I need him, Gunner latches his mouth there, licking me brutally while his thrusts grow harder and deeper.

I put my hand beside his and spread myself open for him.

His groan reverberates through the kitchen. I have my eyes screwed shut tight against the onslaught of building pressure. I don’t even have to look at his face to want to explode at the fact that watching me makes him this feral.

He makes me equally as wild and if he thinks that I’m just going to let him give me all the pleasure and call it a night, he’s dead wrong.

I mean, I have to survive this first, and he’s doing his damn best to shatter me.

I’m so glad that he’s not gentle. He doesn’t make me wait for the pleasure. He’s generous. He just gives it to me. Has he been dreaming about this for five years? Is he as secretly desperate as I am?

He doesn’t hold back. He gives me everything. His fingers and his mouth, working me, licking me, kissing me to a climax that makes me whole body rock on the countertop. My legs shake violently as the tremors rip up them and detonate at my center. Over and over the waves hit. He doesn’t let up and works me into a second one that nearly crushes me. There’s no mind or breath. There’s just him, giving me absolutely everything.

He thinks that he can give me a banging one-off orgasm and just leave? Yeah… no. That’s not how this is going to work.

I slip off the counter as soon as he removes his fingers, yanking down my skirt and tottering on my high heeled boots. He puts one hand up to stop me. I watch, my eyes going wide, as he licks those digits clean.

“You taste like heaven, Diletta. It’s enough to make a man drunk.”

I study his face with open regret. “Am I on the pill, Gunner?”

He can’t hide from me behind those color contacts any longer. He’s good at blanking his face, but not that good. The quickest twitch gives him away.

“Right. You know that I’m not, although how you know that is criminal.”

He catches me around the waist. “Are you offended?”

Am I? I should be. I should be fucking angry as hell and normally I would be, but I find myself only mildly annoyed. It’s hard to hate a man who has given up everything for you and basically worshipped the ground you walked on. I know, I know, that’s crazy talk given how it’s happened. Maybe it’s the post climax bliss that’s doing my brain in.

“I don’t have any protection. We can’t have sex.”

He inclines his head, trying to understand where I’m going. “That won’t be a problem.”

I turn my gaze down to the massive bulge straining at his jeans. “It looks like it’s a painful problem, actually.” I might not have been bold enough before, but I’m brave enough now to edge closer and run my hand down the length of him. “Bedroom,” I instruct. “I want to taste and touch every inch of you.” As hard and fast as he gave it to me, I want to be slow and tender. I needed it desperate and rougher, but that’s not what I want to give this man.

I want him to have what he’s never had before.

The touch of someone who cares about his pleasure.

His hand curls around my wrist, pressing lightly on my pulse point. “You don’t have to do that.”

I flatten my hand against his erection. “I’d love to have your cock in my mouth, Gunner. I want it very badly. I understand that I’m under no obligation. I hope that clears things up for you.”

The most reluctant smile lights up his usual glower.

I trace his outline again, harder this time, giving him pressure until he groans. “Fuck.” He stands there, letting me touch him however I please.

I tug his face down and kiss him hard. I thrust my tongue into his mouth and demand everything he as to give. It makes me wild again to taste myself on his lips. He pulls back, his teeth scoring against my lip a little too hard. He hisses.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For biting me?” I kiss him, nipping back. “Never be sorry for that.”

His hard breath shakes a little on the exhale, revealing just how shaky and tenuous his control is. I want him to lose it completely with me. I want him to do something else that he’s never done before. Surrender.

“I’m not going to turn on any lights. You can follow me to the bedroom. I want you to watch me.”

“Diletta…”

“You can stand outside the window if that makes it hotter.”

I can’t stand that he looks like he’s going to combust on the spot, but he’s still uncertain. I link our hands together and squeeze.

“No one should be this tense when they’re about to get a mind-blowing blowjob. Relax like you did on your bike. I could feel how all the bad energy just drained out of you once we got on the road.”

He still can’t do it. His shoulders couldn’t be more rigid if he was craved from stone.

I press a kiss to his cheek. “I like knowing you’re watching. More than anything, that turns me on.”

He shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair, sending the strands into disarray.

I skip my way to the bedroom, leaving the door open. The blinds are closed in here too. It’s at the back of the house and faces into the backyard and the alley beyond the dumpy garage and decrepit fence.

I unzip my boots and step out of them. The miniskirt unzips at the back and I pull it off, then finish with my bra. I toss them to the end of the bed and crawl on, stopping in the middle. I flip over onto my back, spread my legs, and bring my hand down between my legs.

I’m still drenched and just skimming my finger over my overstimulated clit causes another round of seismic waves to seize my muscles.

“Fuckkkkkk. Mmm, that’s good.”

It almost hurts to touch my clit, but I keep skimming past it, brushing my fingers over my entrance. Gunner wasn’t a tease, but I am.

My heart knocks hard against my ribs when I turn my face and see his massive shadow in the doorway.

“You didn’t mean for this to happen.” I slip two fingers inside. They’re not nearly as wide as Gunner’s were. I don’t get that stretch and burn combination that he effortlessly gifted to me.

“What you’re doing right now? I think you’re the master of your own destiny on this one.”

I grin at him, hoping he can’t see how goofy it is in the dark. He doesn’t have night vision, does he? “And he’s funny too.”

I add a third finger, gasping at the stretch. That’s the sensation I was chasing.

“I never meant for you to notice me. I never meant for us to meet. I think we talked about that already. I fucked up.”

“I like that you’re self-depreciating. You have no idea how few people can admit to their own faults.”

“Are you going to keep going with that or—”

“I’d really like it if you got in here. it would be so much hotter if I was doing this while gagging on your cock.”

He makes that surprised noise again. I’m not sure when he’ll stop seeing me as an angel and start realizing that I’m a real human woman with real desire and a filthy mouth when I’m not teaching kindergarten or out in the community where anyone can overhear me.

I get the shadow motion of him shedding his leather jacket and tugging his t-shirt over his head. In the dark, he’s even bigger. The shadows give him depth and dimension that he doesn’t have in the light.

I wriggle over and switch on the lamp.

I much prefer this.

He freezes, eyes crashing up to my face.

“You think that I’m the beautiful one, but you’re crazy. You’re the most intoxicating man I’ve ever set eyes on.”

He sighs, exasperated, but he ducks his head. I’m pretty sure it’s to hide his reluctant grin.

“Take off your pants. I want to see what I’m working with here.”

He unzips his jeans, kicks off his heavy biker boots, and pulls everything down. His cock springs free, thick and more than impressive.

I slap both hands over my mouth. “Seriously? That’s a tree trunk. Why didn’t you warn me that you have a porn star dick?”

He automatically bends and reaches for his jeans, but I scramble off the bed and stop him. I wrap my hand around the base of his monster dick and add the other. He has to be ten inches at least.

It was a mistake getting naked. No matter how many orgasms we give each other, it’s never going to feel as good as taking him inside of me.

I can’t let him see me hesitate again.

I take him to the bed and let him spread out. He doesn’t protest like the night he did when he was sick and hurt. My mind goes back to what he looked like in my bed that night, how I shamelessly stayed up watching him. I mean, watching over him.

“For the record, I didn’t know if you were on birth control or not. You can learn a lot if you just stay silent long enough.”

My head snaps up. His eyes are actually sparkling, but that might just be the lamplight.

“That’s not fair.”

“I don’t play nicely.”

I kneel over his legs, which spreads my own out wide. He tenses up again. I get that this is hard for him. He might be twice my size, but he’s on his back, naked, about to do something incredibly vulnerable. No matter how much he wants this, I’m willing to bet everything that Gunner has never known any real intimacy. He’s probably never done light kissing or kissing just for the sake of it. Has he ever cuddled with anyone or been held?

It hurts too much to think about him as a kid having to fend for himself, dreaming of nothing but survival, digging and clawing his way to the top for a roof over his head and food to eat, but thinking about him later, when he could take care of himself, when his aura probably drew women to him, nearly cuts off my airway with jealousy.

I surge up, grasp his shoulders, and kiss him. I start rough and desperate, just like the kisses we shared in the kitchen, but slow down. I savor the taste and the warmth of him. He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft and perfect, but his stubble makes just enough of a burning scrape on my skin.

I run my tongue along his lower lip. He tenses up again, his muscles going rock hard beneath me, but then tentatively, he does the same to me. He’s a fast learner and soon my head is spinning and he’s making animal noises of pleasure against my mouth. I kiss him back with everything I have, holding onto him like I’m never going to let him go.

He’s the one who breaks the contact, but he closes his eyes and curls his hand around the back of my neck. He presses our foreheads together, letting us just breathe.

I need more.

I guide his cock and sit back, making him slick with my arousal. I do it again, teasing along his length without putting him inside of me. I rise up again, the head of his cock jamming against my clit so that I curse I Italian under my breath.

I torture him like that for a few more passes until I’m so tortured too that it’s either reposition myself or take him inside of me so that I don’t die a thousand deaths right here for wanting him.

I slip backwards, sleek as a cat, with far more grace than I’ve managed all evening. Now that I’m positioned above him, one hand on the base of his cock, staring down at him, I can see how beautiful he is. All over.

I bow my head, taking just the tip of him into my mouth.

He jerks beneath me, a muscle twitch, but from the sheer pleasure. I understand. I felt the same way the second his hot mouth landed on me, ruining me for anyone else.

I suck his head, rolling my tongue over all of him, tasting and exploring. Even this much of him makes me jaw ache. I have to pull back several times to swallow and breathe, but I don’t make it obvious. I lick his tip, lap up the precum leaking from him, roll my tongue over the underside and trace a few of the veins lower.

I take him into my mouth again, cautiously and carefully, wrapping my hand around as much of his shaft as I can so that this is good for him even though I’m only going to be able to take about half of him at best. He’s so big that his cock could break a person, no matter where it’s going.

I jack him with my hand, sliding it up and down the warm, satiny skin as I do my best to lick and suck him.

Now he’s the one who swears in Italian, and it ignites something in me, the knowledge that I’ve managed to break through his cover to the man beneath.

He doesn’t grasp my hair or guide my head. He’s not going to ram his cock down my throat, even though his hips do thrust slightly. I don’t think he can stop them anymore than I can stop myself from leaking down my thighs as I’m crouched here.

I take my free left hand and snake it between my legs.

I moan around his dick as I make contact with my still far too sensitive clit. Touching myself only makes me more desperate to pick up the pace for him.

As I slip three fingers into my entrance, I move my mouth back and forth faster, sucking harder, using my tongue like I’ve been possessed by a demon. He thrusts harder and faster too, fucking up into my face, helping me. I keep a firm grip on the base of him. This is so intimate. He’s trusting me with this. Trusting himself. I can feel how close he is to letting his control slip. He let it slip that night in the yard and I’m not sure if he’s fully regained it since. I can’t imagine what that must feel like. Probably like a car barreling straight towards a guardrail, knowing it will never hold.

I work him as hard as I can while I ride my own fingers. I’m already so close to coming that I make sure my hand doesn’t brush against my clit. One touch of that and it’s game over for me.

“Fuck, fuck…” Gunner pants, finally threading his fingers through my hair. “I’m going to come. You need to stop.”

Stop? Why would I ever do that? If he doesn’t want to come in my mouth, that’s okay, but I make it clear that it’s also okay if he does want that. I’ll swallow every last drop of him.

I don’t want to take my mouth off him. My jaw is burning and feels like it might crack from the strain, but I have to keep going or I’m going to slam myself down on top of him and ride him until we both explode together.

“Seriously.” His hips jack up again and again, forcing me to take him deeper and deeper.

I can already taste the salt of him coating my tongue. I shift my hand to his balls and feel how tight he’s drawn up.

I lift my face and take his hand from my hair, setting it on his shaft. I arch back, giving him a show of me stuffing myself full of my own fingers. “Jack yourself.” I can’t believe that’s my voice, so husky and smoky, giving commands like a sex goddess. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”

I support myself with one arm, working myself with my other hand. He gets to watch the show, his eyes hot on me, my breasts rising and falling as I writhe with the pleasure. I keep my eyes open and so does he. I watch him touch himself, smoothing his hand up and down his shaft, lubricating his fingers and his palm with the moisture leaking from the tip.

I’m shamelessly wet, my fingers plunging in and out, loud and sloppy. His lips curl back in a feral grimace. He smells good. Dark and sexy.

Watching him jack his cock until all his muscles are straining from his neck, down his arms, to his abs and legs, his hand working faster and harder until he comes in white, ropey strands all over his abs and chest, definitely pushes me into my own climax without me doing anything special with my fingers or touching my clit again.

He didn’t make a sound when he came. I was the one who yelped and whimpered and panted through a climax that was almost brutal and exhausting. I wouldn’t even think that he enjoyed what we just did except that his eyes are different. They’re slightly hazy and totally blown. He looks blissed out.

“Hold on,” I slur. “I’m going to get you something to clean up.”

I force my body off the bed, wobbling on rickety legs like I’m drunk. I head to the kitchen and reach down into the drawer by the fridge, extracting exactly what I’m going to need now.

It’s easy to hide what I have in my hands by going into the bathroom and getting a towel and a wet washcloth. I make sure that the cloth is warm.

I hate being devious, especially when I see how Gunner hasn’t moved. He’s pressed up against my bed like he wants to make it his new home, still with that look of astounded wonder on his face.

I shyly hand the warm cloth over, dipping my head. He doesn’t know where to look either, now that I’m back. He takes it from me and cleans himself up while I hover near the edge of the nightstand. He sets it aside. I still have the towel in one hand like I’m going to dry him off. I twist his face into me instead, devouring his mouth. Despite what I’m about to do and the fact that I just came so hard I saw other galaxies, I’m still aching to be filled and used hard.

I grasp Gunner’s hand and lift it to my breast. He groans, massaging his fingers over the hard peak of my nipple. I lift higher, to my mouth. I suck on his index finger, which also tastes like me, whimpering.

He exhales loudly and his eyes close.

I’m fast, but then, I’ve spent hours practicing this and so many other defensive maneuvers.

I already latched the other cuff to the headboard when I kissed him, taking care to be silent. In an instant, I have the silver metal slipped around his wrist and clicked into place.

His eyes shoot open, his face turns, and when he sees that he’s cuffed to thick metal headboard, he roars.

He lashes at them, rattling the bed violently while I step back, letting him have his tantrum. Laughing isn’t appropriate right now, but I can’t help it. It slips out. As soon as he hears it, he freezes, his eyes sweeping me so coldly that a shiver races up my spine, but it’s not entirely devoid of an accompanied throbbing everywhere else.

“For a hitman, you’re surprisingly bad at seeing this kind of shit coming.”

“I’m not a goddamn hitman.”

I know why he’s bad at it. The first time I gave him those painkillers so he could sleep, he was half dead on his feet and so sick. This time, he trusted me.

I bow my head. I don’t take that abuse of his trust lightly, I really didn’t want to do this, but I can’t let him go, at least not just yet. “I’m sorry, but you need to stay here. Healing is a choice you have to make for yourself, but I won’t let you leave and self-destruct. You planned on disappearing. I’m not playing fair, but neither are you.”

“Uncuff me. Now.”

“You’re not very menacing now that I know that under that cold hard killer exterior, you’re just a golden retriever.”

He growls at me, showing me his teeth like an honest to goodness junkyard dog. It’s so fucking hot that I’m going to need to turn on the AC in here if he keeps that up.

I stand just out of reach. He’s not going to swing off the bed and grab me with his other hand or with his legs. “I think you’re an honest person, for all your faults. You’re silent when you don’t want to give yourself away, or when you don’t want to lie, not because you have nothing to say. You like being left alone, but that’s a lie you’ve told yourself. You’re only scary so no one will look at you and see the real you. That’s part of hiding, which you had every right to do. But . You’re going to talk to your club. You’re going to tell them everything.” I gnaw my bottom lip at the blazing inferno of anger he’s throwing at me. Silent and menacing. He’s good at that. Scary is right. “If you don’t, I will.”

He goes wild again, bucking on the bed, fighting the cuffs so violently that I’m afraid he’s going to wring his wrist bloody. The bed also creaks menacingly, but the headboard is thick metal. It’s solid and strong.

“Gunner! If you don’t stop that, I’ll go get my kit and this time, I’ll give you something that actually is a tranquilizer. Don’t think I can’t do it, because I have darts.”

I don’t have darts, but he freezes. His eyes widen then turn into deadly narrowed slits. He’s not going to stop fuming. He needs a minute to chill.

I have some cookies in the kitchen that I baked last night. We didn’t get around to dessert. I make a cup of coffee. I’ll make sure I drink most of it, since I’m going to have to stay up all night and guard Gunner’s ass. I have no doubt that he’d find a way to dismantle the bed and get out of here otherwise.

He treats me to a blistering glare as I walk back into my own bedroom. He’s pulled the sheet up over his waist. His scarred chest is forgotten in his rage. He has bigger problems right now.

The biggest, being me.

I warmed the cookies in the microwave, which was cheating, but a few seconds brings them right back that freshly baked feeling.

“Mmmmm.” I sigh, taking a bite. “Want one?”

“Go…” he trails off.

I finish for him. “Fuck myself?” I lean up against the wall, spreading my legs in the thin robe. My hands are both full, but it doesn’t matter. His eyes go straight to the high slit in the robe. “After snack time, maybe, although I’m not sure how much more I can stand at the moment.”

His anger fades, the blast dialing down into cold sullenness.

“Cookie?” I hold one out. They smell amazing. I have to say, this was one of my best batches.

Even hardened, stone cold stalkers can’t resist a sweet treat.

I see the way Gunner’s eyes track straight to it.

I set the mug of coffee down on the opposite nightstand where he can’t reach it. Not that he’d use it as a weapon. I don’t believe that no matter how angry or anything else Gunner could ever be with me, that he’d ever harm me in any way.

Climbing onto the bed next to him, I tuck my legs under me in the robe and bring the cookie to his mouth. He turns his face to the side. Not a big deal. I smear the cookie against his lips, rubbing the melting chocolate half over his face.

He’s too much of a gentleman to curse at me. Not that I’m going to give him a chance. I straddle him and slowly clean him up with my tongue. He’s frozen through all of it, his free hand at his side.

I lick the seam of his lips last before I thrust my tongue into his mouth.

“Fucking Christ, woman,” he grumbles against mine lips, but that grumble turns into a low groan. His hips arch up against me. I lean back on him, the entire length of him covered only by the sheet.

Right. Truly. I’m not sure I can take another orgasm.

I get off, leaving the cookies on the nightstand. I wrap myself in the robe I have on the back of the door. It’s lighter weight cotton for spring, white with small pink flowers.

I make sure that when I retrieve the plate and offer Gunner another cookie, that I sit well to the other side of him. He takes up most of the bed, but there’s a scrap of space. This time, he opens his mouth without cursing me. The noises of appreciation he makes while he’s chewing might be barely there, but they shoot straight between my legs. Merda. If I rub against him again, I’m going to have to get my first aid kit out for myself to treat all the chafing.

“Do you want another?”

He stubbornly dips his head, which I take for a yes. He has a free hand, but I insist on holding that cookie for him and feeding him myself.

After, I hold the mug of coffee to his lips. His hand wraps around mine, strong, broad fingers clenching around mine. He drinks deeply and I finish it off right beside him.

The blanket has been kicked onto the floor, but I retrieve it and wrap it around him until he’s basically cocooned in.

Before he can start up with the struggling, protesting routine, I climb in and cuddle up next to him. He freezes when my arm drapes over his chest and stomach. He’s upright, but he could sink down if he wants. I know it won’t be comfortable, and I do feel terrible about that.

I close my eyes, listening to the beat of his heart.

The last time we were in this bedroom, that’s all I wanted. Just to put my head on his heart. To touch his hair. To stroke his cheek.

To get railed senseless.

I make a small circle on his abs with my hand. “Does this hurt you?”

His deep voice rumbles above me. “No.”

“Can you turn the lamp off?”

He makes a sound that says that there’s zero chance this side of the century that he’s going to comply with any requests, but his arm sweeps up above my head and pulls the chain. It knocks softly against the stained-glass shade.

“Thanks,” I tell his washboard stomach. I can’t help but trace my finger over him. The skin is a different texture from the burns. His muscles are rigid and tense underneath. My mind goes straight to the fact that I’m being a crazy dumbass for not letting this man just leave.

Maybe I can fix this. Maybe we can fix it. Gunner has a family here. I can’t let him just abandon it because of me. And it is because of me. If he’d never met me, he wouldn’t be here now.

Neither of us would be.

That feels as much like a tragedy as everything he told me earlier about his life.

I think about the pain of those burns, the pain of his childhood, the fact that all his life, people have used him as a tool and a weapon. I just want him to have a chance to be a man. A human being. To have something good that is entirely his own. Maybe even to start down on his own healing journey.

Does that make me insane?

I stop breathing for an instant when his fingers run through my hair. Gentle. Tentative. Exactly how I knew he’d touch me if he ever let himself. Like he’s afraid I’m the one who is going to disappear.

“This is the first time I can ever remember that someone has fought for me.”

His rough tone punches yet another hole in my lungs.

“Diletta?”

He’s working his fingers through my hair. That, the lateness, the trauma of the day, the shocks and revelations, and the earth shifting orgasms, all combine to make my eyes heavy. The coffee isn’t doing shit. How am I supposed to stay up all night and keep watch like this? I should get up, but I can’t tear myself away from the comfortable position. I’m deliciously warm, his body heat seeping into me from below.

“Hmm?”

“I can’t remember anyone caring until I betrayed them.”

Even after he bled. Even after half his body was scarred. Men like Adolfo Rossi reward loyalty. They don’t feel.

It hurts to think that my father might be the same way when it comes to his men. My father and Adolfo both have one shared weakness. Their families. But family doesn’t extend to men they’re paying to keep them alive or for the expansion and maintenance of their empire.

I know I’m getting sucked under. I need to sit up and wake up, but I just can’t do it. I’m the one who feels like I’ve been drugged. Maybe I just can’t pull myself away, not even when I know that Gunner can feel the hot tears leaking from my eyes, dripping all over his chest. His abs tense and his hand stills in my hair. He sucks in a breath so hard and sharp that I think if I raise my head, I’d find him torn wide open and his cheeks damp too, but I’m so exhausted. So warm. So safe. So right. So home.