Page 43 of Gunner

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.

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