Chapter 23 Gunner #2
She needs body heat. It’s one of the best antidotes to cold, and the oldest trick in the book.
In the current situation, it’s also the most dangerous. But losing her isn’t an option.
I throw every blanket in the room on top of her, tucking them carefully around her body, then move to the door and lock it quickly. I’m about to do something incredibly stupid, and the last thing I need is for Gabe to walk in here when I’m in bed with Taryn.
The thought of being in bed with her has adrenaline running through my body, though, and I can feel the blood collecting in my cock, my balls tightening at the idea that in moments, she’s going to be in my arms.
And fuck, that’s so messed up I can hardly stand it.
I don’t try to stop myself from thinking about it, though.
The idea that I almost lost her tonight, that she could have died, fills me with guilt, and along with it, an overpowering desire.
I want the girl. God, do I want her. I want to take her in my arms and bury myself inside her.
Keep her in bed and safe, promise her the world.
I want to show her that she belongs here, and that we’ll never let her get hurt again. I want to possess every inch of her.
I strip down to my boxers, the rational part of my brain telling me that this is the best way to transfer heat and nothing more.
The feral, obsessed part of me is screaming with readiness, though, and I allow myself one last rational realization about how stupid this might be before I’m climbing into her bed and gathering her against me.
Gods, she’s cold. Her body is sluggish and freezing, and I wrap my legs around her, trying to get as much skin-to-skin contact as possible.
Her temperature seeps into my skin, and I begin to shiver, but I don’t let go of her.
If I’m shivering it’s because she’s taking my heat, and I’ll give her every ounce of my warmth if it means saving her.
She twitches in my arms, and I nearly draw back, horrified at the idea of her waking up, but then she settles more closely against me, her nose buried in my neck.
“Gunner?’ she whispers.
I’m so turned on, I nearly come with the one word.
Fuck me. People use my name daily, and it’s never been anything special.
I went through a phase when I was younger where I actually fucking hated the name.
But it somehow changes when it’s on her tongue, and I’ve never heard anything so hot.
Everything inside me wants to keep this girl safe, keep her mine, and without thinking about it, I put a hand to her chin, tip her face up, and claim her mouth as my own.
She’s sweet and sleepy and pliant, and I spread her lips with mine and sweep my tongue into her mouth, tasting every inch of her.
The pureness of her mouth is nearly more than I can bear, and before I know it my hips are rocking against her, the friction of her belly against the head of my cock so perfect that I want to cry with it.
Then she begins to kiss me back, and I know I’m finished.
It’s not aggressive or overt, because she’s nearly unconscious with the ordeal she just went through, but the tip of her tongue touches mine and then reaches into my mouth, and she tilts her head to take my tongue deeper. Opens herself up to me as if she’s been waiting for this.
Waiting for me to come to her and show her my heart.
I feel a tear slip down my cheek and have to stifle a sob.
I don’t stop thrusting, though, the movement slow and deep and intentional, and the thought enters my mind that I could have her right now.
I could spread her legs, slip her shorts to the side, and taste the sweetness of her pussy.
Cover her with my body and slide my cock so deep inside her that she was taking all of me.
And fuck, why does that sound like finally coming home?
The orgasm hits me long before I’m ready, catching me by surprise, and I groan and thrust against her, coming against her belly and desperately biting my lips to keep quiet. My spine flexes, pushing me hard against her, and I claim her mouth so hard I know it’ll leave bruises.
I don’t care.
I don’t give a single fuck, because for the first time in years, I can actually feel something.
And it’s a desire so deep, so hot, that I can barely contain it. This. This is what I’ve been searching for since Gabe’s mother died. And I’m finding it in the most unlikely place possible.
The moment the orgasm is done, I realize how stupid I am.
I’m in bed with my unconscious stepdaughter, kissing her and coming against her belly like I have any right to be here. My son is a few rooms down, and he may be sick.
Taryn is going to wake up in the morning covered in my release.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I slide out of bed so quickly I fall on the floor, then freeze, terrified that I might have woken her. I need to get her out of her clothes—God help me—and into something clean. And then I need to get the fuck out of here. I can’t stand the thought of her waking up while I’m in here.
Even worse: the thought of her remembering this in the morning.
I don’t know how I’ll face her if she does.
I don’t know how I’ll face Gabe.
Fuck me, I don’t even think I’ll be able to look at my own reflection in the mirror. Because I’ve crossed a boundary I should never have crossed. And I loved every second of it.