Page 17 of Ride Me

Gunner must see the panic on my face because he sighs dramatically and reaches for the handle of his hotel room door. “Come on, I don’t hate you that much,” he says, pushing itopen. He jerks his head toward the inside. “Step in and put your clothes on. Unless you’d rather end up on every tabloid’s front page first thing in the morning.”

I hesitate. My eyes dart from the suite where Bowen’s waiting for me. It’s so close, but too far, and then back to the door behind where the voices grow louder.

Gunner watches me, then smirks. “Oh, come on babe. It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

My jaw clenches and my stomach turns. But so does the handle on the door with the voices. The door across from us opens and I catch a glimpse of blonde hair coming out of the room before I step inside of Gunner’s suite. He closes the door behind me.

Gunner seizes the opportunity like a man who’s been waiting for it. He tells me he’s made mistakes.No shit, buddy.He tells me he’s sorry. That he’s learned. That he still believes in us. He believes we have a real shot at going the distance if we just give it one more try.It’s gross.

Every sentence out of his mouth paints me in shades of uncomfortable, making me acutely aware of how incredible Bowen is in comparison. Every word Gunner says only solidifies what I already know, I can’t wait to get back to Bowen.

I let Gunner talk because, really, what choice do I have? But as I stand there, arms crossed, holding onto my clothes like a lifeline, I realize something. He can’t get to me anymore. His words roll off me, powerless, empty. I barely hear most of them.

My focus is on the door. My body hums with the urgency to get out. I lean slightly toward it, straining for the sound of silence so I can make my escape. At some point, Gunner realizes I’m not biting and offers to go find my pants in some last-ditch effort to be a gentleman.

But then Gunner turns back toward me. His voice takes on that smug, self-important tone that makes my stomach churn.“Priya, you don’t realize how hard the media spotlight was on me too? All those expectations, being America’s sweetheart, the perfect fantasy man every woman wanted—it’s a heavy weight. We both had it rough and I’m not sure anyone else can understand what we went through.”

That does it. The floodgates burst open. The words I should have said a long time ago rise up inside me and burn through my throat like fire.

“Gunner, you let them attack me.”

He blinks, taken aback. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

“You stood by and didn’t say a fucking word while the entire world ripped me apart. I didn’t have a voice. I had no one. And you didn’t give a shit. That was your choice. Take some accountability for once in your life.”

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Sharp, deliberate knocks at the door make my words catch in my throat. Gunner doesn’t hesitate. He rips the door open, exposing me before I can even react. And there, standing in the doorway is Bowen.

His gaze sweeps over me. The oversized shirt, the bundle of clothes in my hands, my bare legs. His jaw ticks. Then his eyes shift to Gunner. Bowen’s eyes darken and his stare is fierce. Sharp enough to cut.

Gunner doesn’t back down. He squares his shoulders, meeting Bowen’s glare head-on, his trademark smirk curling at the edges.

Bowen speaks first, his voice low and controlled. Too controlled. “Priya,” he says, steel laced through my name. “What is this?”

“We were just talking,” I say quickly, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Yeah,” Gunner drawls, stepping just a little too close to me. “We were just talking. And I was about to head out to find her pants and underwear.” He grins. “You know how she gets wild.”

My mouth falls open and the air in the room shatters.

Bowen moves faster than I can process. One second he’s standing there, the next, he lunges at Gunner, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and slamming him against the door. The impact echoes down the hall.

My stomach lurches. One by one, doors creak open. Sleepy, curious faces peek out, eyes widening at the scene unfolding before them. Each one feels like a laser beam burning into my skin.

“I wouldn’t do that, cowboy,” Gunner grits out, jerking against Bowen’s grip.

I drop my voice and put a hand on Bowen’s arm. “Stop it, he’s got a whole team of big dudes. It’s not worth it. This isn’t a big deal.”

Bowen turns to face me, his eyes widen as he takes in the scene all over again. “Oh, I see. I should stop. Am I wrong here?”

“I’m just saying that this isn't your fight.” My words come out choppy and clipped, but they take the wind out of him.

Bowen deflates. His face pinches into tight lines. He runs a hand through his hair. “You aren’t mine to fight for… That’s right, I forgot. This is just fun and that’s perfect actually. I didn’t want to break my three-day record anyway.”

A half hour later the chaos around me dissipates into nothingness. Gunner retreats to his suite with some kind of sick victory under his belt. Bowen disappears with Callum before I can stop them. The Southern Knights and their Sagebrush Creekconcubines go back behind their closed doors. All that’s left for me to do is go home.

I lay down to a sleepless night knowing the scene that unfolded is over but nowhere near forgotten. I feel sick about the assumptions Bowen must have made when I close my eyes. I toss and turn for hours. The weight of the world is on my shoulders.

---