“Don’t,” she says. “I really do care about you, Gunner. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but I do. And I know you’re hung up on this girl, but I’m telling you as a friend—maybe your only friend—that this will only lead to disaster.”
“You don’t know that,” I bite out.
She throws back the dregs of her drink, slips off the barstool, and shrugs. “I’m not wrong. Maybe it’s been all honeymoon so far, but it won’t last, Gunner. And I’m telling you that it’s because it
can’t
last. Our world isn’t her world.”
I clench the neck of the bottle of Jack as Rochelle walks out the door.
“And Gunner?” she asks, her back to me. “I know exactly what you’re looking at. Murphy would be glad to ink that over for you anytime you want. Stop torturing yourself.”
She pushes through the door and I continue to stare at the tattoo of Harlow’s name on my wrist.
I slam the bottle of Jack on the counter and consider that maybe Rochelle has a point.
***
Her Jeep pulls up and I push myself off the chair I’ve been sitting in all night. The one by the bed where we made love like we couldn’t stop. Looking at it empty makes me consider how good it would feel to take a damn hatchet to it and make a nice fucking fire, turning all my memories to ash.
But I’m trying to grow past the need to destroy everything that doesn’t work my way. Otherwise I’d spend every day of my life sifting through ruins.
I’m at the door before she can knock, and she looks so damn gorgeous, it kicks the breath out of my lungs.
She’s wearing ripped up jean shorts that barely cover her ass, a tiny white tank top, and her feet are bare. I want to tell her it’s not safe to drive in bare feet. I want to tell her it’s not safe to come here, to my house, when I’m feeling like my world is falling apart. I can’t say a word, because her face is shining.
Like she’s been waiting to see me all day.
Like she gives a damn about me.
God that feels so good.
She runs up to me, her light hair picked up by the breeze the summer wind brings across the fields. “Hey there, stranger,” she says, biting her bottom lip and stopping short before she’s in my arms.
I could reach out and touch her, but I don’t.
I can’t.
“I was worried about you.” I’m not surprised at how dead my voice sounds.
“I’m so sorry, Gunner. That’s Daisy’s stupid ass rule. About calling. I guess I agreed to it. But that was before it applied to you.” She takes a step toward me, and I shift back.
The look of hurt and confusion in her eyes is a knife in my heart.
“You should have called before you showed up,” I tell her.
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Oh. Um, I met Rochelle.”
I close my eyes and swallow. “I heard.”
“But you called me...I thought maybe she wasn’t...maybe she isn’t...” She looks at me with pleading eyes because she wants me to tell her that Rochelle is just some jealous asshole who means nothing to me.
Which is so true and such a lie all at once.
“Rochelle and I have been on and off for a while,” I finally say.
“Oh.” She stares at her perfect little toes. “She said something about an engagement ring.”
“Did you see one on her finger?”
She shakes her head.
“So, you said you two are on and off. Just how off were you when we got together?” Her lip trembles.
“Haven’t slept with her in weeks.”
She looks up at me, eyes wide with hurt. “I’m not asking how long it’s been since you slept with her.”
“She’s more a friend than anything else.”
She steps closer, and I have nowhere left to back up to.
“Do you love her, Gunner?” she asks, her words a soft rush, her fingers hot on my arm. “Tell me. Because I’ll leave now.”
“I never loved her. I never loved any girl in my life like I love you, Harlow Mills,” I tell her, grabbing her around the waist and sinking my mouth to hers. “I missed you the last few days. And I want you. I know it’s a fucking bad idea. I know it’s the
worst
idea. But I want you. Tell me to let you go. Tell me to fuck off and never come near you again, and I’ll do it.”
“Take me to bed,” she says instead, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I love you. I don’t give a damn about girls you slept with. I don’t give a damn about anything but you, Gunner Hunt.”
I open the door and we fall in, my mouth rough on her sweet lips because I can’t get enough of her. I strip that tank off over her head and her tits jiggle out, full and soft. I dip my mouth and feast on one, then the other, squeezing and sucking. Her fingers undo the button and zipper of her tiny shorts and they drop off her hips. She’s not wearing a thing under them.
I lift her around the waist and set her back against the door, one arm under that sweet ass. My fingers find her and I press them in and out, over and over until she’s panting hard and pumping against me.
“I ought to horsewhip you for going off and not calling, you damn fool. I was worried out of my mind.” I press my mouth to her neck, exposed for my taking by her back-bent head.
I’m shocked to hear her laugh. “You should spank me a little. I think I’d like that, actually.” Her eyes dance and she wiggles in my arms and turns, backside to me. “Was I a bad girl, Gunner?” She bats her lashes and shakes her ass.
I wrap one arm around her hips and rub the palm of my hand on her soft, rounded skin. “Don’t play with me, Harlow. I will absolutely spank you because you sure as hell deserve it.”
“Are you just talking a big game, or are you going to do it?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow.
I draw my hand back and rap her on the bottom, and she giggles. “I’m not made of porcelain. You can—Oh!”
I pull my hand back and slap her backside hard enough to leave a stinging red imprint. “Like that?” I ask.
“Yes! Yes!” She pushes back and I repeat, loving the way she moans at the sound of my hand on her plump ass. I reach my free hand forward, and her nipples are rock hard. I slide it down, and she’s so wet, her thighs are slippery. I slap her bottom one more time, and listen to her suck her breath in at my stinging touch. Then I turn her in my arms.
She’s biting her lip. “Why is it I want you so badly, Gunner? Why is it that I love it even when it hurts?”
I don’t know for sure if she’s talking about the fact that I spanked her ass or the fact that I broke her heart, but I’m ready to take her beyond all that pain either way.
“I have no clue, baby.” I hoist her against the door and undo my pants. I slide into her fast, my dick surrounded by her tight, soaked suction and push deep, kissing her through her moans and yelps. “But I know I can’t just walk away. I can’t.”
I ram into her, loving the way she squirms in my arms, her fingers tearing my shirt off and running up and down my chest and back. She bites and sucks, sometimes leaving little marks. I love every one. I love that she’s so damn passionate with me. So damn willing.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” I say as she drives her body up and down, pounding her hips against mine.
“Can’t,” she gasps. “Can’t! God, Gunner, I’m gonna come...I’m gonna come...right...” She doesn’t finish with an actual word, just a moan and a stifled scream.
She falls against my arms, breathing heavily.
“Did you...?” she asks.
I shake my head, pull her up into my arms, and leave the rest of my clothes in a pile by the front door. “I didn’t come yet, and I don’t plan to for a long time. I hope you’re ready to play, baby.”
She giggles as I take her upstairs, ready to exorcise every doubt and uncertainty out. I know this must be real, because I’ve never felt more right than I have when she’s in my arms.
This can’t be my heart playing tricks on me. I know it can’t.
CHAPTER 11
HARLOW
“Did you ever consider that maybe the answer to all our problems would be a private island?” I whisper as I kiss along Gunner’s jaw.
“An island, huh? I don’t know why I’ve been being such an ass, holing up in old Piedmont. If the lady wants an island, so be it.” He rolls on top of me, and it makes me so happy to feel his hands gentle and reverent on me, like I’m too fine to be treated roughly.
Which doesn’t mean I don’t like when we get a little kinky. Getting spanked by the front door was the sweetest pain I’ve ever felt. I’m thinking of picking up one of those little leather riding crops from the naughty adult store downtown. That and some movies, maybe. And some body lotions. The ones you can lick off.
“What are you thinking of, sweetheart?” Gunner asks. He must see my blush, because he chuckles. “Or should I even ask? Damn, girl, that angel face is tricky. I never would have imagined you begging me to spank you.”
“I loved it.” I snuggle closer. “Loved it so much, I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”
“Oh, I’m damn sure I will,” Gunner insists. “You’re a huge pain in the ass, Harlow. If I spank you every tenth time you do something to drive me nuts, you’ll never be able to sit comfortably again.”
I giggle and roll on top of him, pinning his arms over his head. “Maybe I should spank you. You aggravate me too, you know.”
He shrugs his huge, strong shoulders. “Go ahead, honey. But with those tiny hands? It’ll probably be like swatting flies off my ass.”
That makes me laugh so hard, it hurts my heart a little. “Gunner? Why have we been apart for three years? Why didn’t we try?”
His face goes cold and blank.
“Don’t do that,” I beg.
“Do what?” he asks.
“Leave me.” He gives me a confused look, and I smooth his hair back with my fingers. “Sometimes you’re in my arms, but you’re not here at all. Tends to be when things get hard or ugly. But don’t do it. I’m strong. I can deal with anything if I have you.”
He cups my face in his hand, rubbing a thumb along my cheek. “I know you are. Sometimes when I think about what hell would break loose if you and I just strolled downtown Piedmont hand in hand, I wish that private island really did exist.”
“I don’t care what my daddy thinks,” I tell him.
He shakes his head at me. “First of all, that’s a lie. And it’s fine. I don’t need you to give up your relationship with your father for me. But you do care, and it would be a sticking point forever. The blame isn’t all on his shoulders, anyway. I have my own baggage, my own family and friends, and I don’t know that I like the idea of you around them. They’re corrupters.”
I kiss his forehead. “So, maybe we need to run away together.”
His eyes light up. “Other than going on the road with my dad and brothers one summer, I don’t think I’ve ever been more than a hundred miles from this damn town. Might be nice. What would I do, though?”
“What you do here,” I say haltingly. “Which is what exactly?”
“I work at the bar,” he says vaguely.
I reach under the covers and fish around until I touch exactly what I was looking for.
“Damn, Harlow. God, your hands are soft. Ah, that’s perfect.”
I know what I’m doing, and I do it well. And then I stop.
He lifts his head, surprised. “You want me to touch you th—”
“No!” I cry, pulling away. If he starts touching me, I’ll be putty in his hands. That’s the opposite of what I want. “You like what my hands just did?”
“Very much,” he says, smiling that smile that makes my heart skip.
“My hands will do more of that, and I’m pretty sure I can arrange for my mouth to join in if you talk to me.” I raise an eyebrow at him and he frowns.
“Talk?”
“You say it like I asked you to walk on knives,” I laugh.
He sits up. “Is that my other option? Cause let’s get to the kitchen then.”
“Very funny.” I straddle his legs and put my hands to work, kissing his mouth while I do. “Talk or this stops.” I pull both hands away abruptly just to show him I’m not kidding.
“Alright. You’re pure evil behind that sweet face,” he gripes. “I own the bar.”
I nod, loving how my hand barely fits around him. Granted, I have small hands, but, damn, Gunner is very well equipped.
“You don’t look surprised,” he notes.
I shrug. “Rochelle told us a few things.”
He growls, and I increase the pressure and speed. “Anything else you can tell me?” I ask before I stop again.
“You’re torturing me, woman.” He balls his fists in the sheets.
“That’s the point,” I say.
He turns his face into the pillow and groans. “Fine. Fine, you want to know it all? I’m going to tell you every damn thing, even if I hate doing it.” He pulls me close. “When I walked away from you, I felt like
life was over. So I drank every bottle that was put in front of me and fucked any girl who spread her legs for me. But I couldn’t get you out of my damn head. My father took my brothers and I on tour for a band, and one of my brothers got a tape of a very rich girl doing some pretty crazy things with two guys in the band. My dad blackmailed her father, and he shared some of that money.”