them, especially liking when they scurried off.
She was more than halfway home when she had a suspicion she was being followed. With a block to go, she was sure of it. She wound around the streets several more times, popping in and out of shops, going out back doors and finally sliding into her building past a man headed out with luggage who held the door for her.
Perfect. She hit the stairs instead of the elevator, went inside and breathed a sigh of relief when the buzz of the alarm greeted her. She turned it off as she locked up behind her. She leaned against the wall for a brief moment, listening to see if she heard footsteps.
Nothing.
“You are extra paranoid tonight,” she chided herself. She ran her hands through her hair, stopping to massage her temples. She’d pay for those few drinks tonight. Time for ibuprofen and sleep.
She stripped her shirt off on the way to the bathroom. She’d spilled hot sauce on it. She kicked off her shoes too, and stopped, because a shiver went through her body.
She turned around quickly, but no one was there. Because no one could be there. The place was locked down tight. It was all the stories from Billie. The superstitions she’d talked about too. The lore and the bayous were enough to make anyone a little loopy.
She shimmied out of her jeans, went into the bathroom, the tile cool under her feet. She leaned over the bathroom sink to splash cold water on her face. She held on to the sides of the sink after she did so, letting the water run off her face, down her neck. She splashed the water a few more times, grabbed the towel and blotted herself dry.
When she looked into her reflection in the mirror, Gunner was standing behind her.
Her mind raced, but anger was the strongest emotion. She grappled for something to hit him with, but he was fast. Strong. He’d pinned her body to his, even as she struggled.
“That was you behind me.”
“You need to learn better E&E.” God, his voice sounded deeper, the drawl thicker, sliding across her skin like a caress.
She had it bad, dammit. And she didn’t want to. “I don’t need to learn anything from you.”
His laugh vibrated through her. She’d spent the past weeks wavering between hating him and missing him, and now that she had him, she didn’t know what the hell to do with him.
He was obviously more prepared, seemed to know exactly what to do with her. At least, what he wanted to do. His hand was on her breast and she was conscious of being half naked in front of him in a way she had never been.
Her nipple hardened under his simple touch and he knew, because he rubbed his palm against it lightly while she tried to pretend it didn’t affect her. “Let me go.”
“Just remember, this is what you wanted,” he murmured, moved his hand from her breast to her tattoo. “Am I wrong?”
She couldn’t breathe. His hands were like ribbons of fire on her skin. She closed her eyes because the room was spinning. Gunner’s arms weren’t enough to steady her or stop that. She wanted to ask,
He proceeded to tie her arms above her head and to the headboard while she watched, unsure of what he would do next.
He stared down at her before he pulled his KA-BAR knife out of his pocket, ran the cold edge of it over her skin and then slit the front of her bra open.
“Oh, fuck,” she breathed. His lips quirked a little, and he did the same to her underwear. And she was naked in front of him, completely, utterly stripped in a way she’d never been before.
His eyes just took her in and there was nothing she could do but let him. She wanted to ask him why he’d pushed her away when she’d kissed him, but she didn’t.
And then his mouth was on hers and she couldn’t think any longer. His tongue played along the seam of her lips before he became more demanding. When she opened her mouth to him, his tongue licked hers. It was sensual. Hot. Exactly the way she’d imagined it would be. It made up for him standing like stone when she’d kissed him.
God, she’d missed him. And all of this she’d missed out on while she’d been living in his place, eating his food, sharing his weapons. She hadn’t known exactly what she’d wanted, besides this man. But she’d assumed him unattainable.
She’d assumed so wrong, if his kiss was any indication of his feelings. And she wanted to touch him so badly, strained her wrists against the T-shirt ties. But he pulled back, shook his head and then his mouth was on her breast, tugging at her nipple. His hand on her bottom, his fingers stroking the wetness between her legs, and she was rubbing against him instead of pushing him away, cursing him, telling him that he’d ruined her.
He’d given her no quarter. She was bared to him and all she could do was whimper at the strokes of his fingers. She stopped thinking and just let it happen. If this was all the time she’d have with Gunner, she’d make it her best memory. Burn it into her brain.
“Spread your legs for me,” he murmured. She did, and his hand moved between her thighs, stroking her. Between the beer and Gunner himself, she was completely drunk. Her body soared. She would open for him, do anything he asked of her. Because he’d come back. For her.
She was sure of it.
But he was angry too. Knew she’d been asking questions. Or maybe he was angry that he’d recanted and come back to see her.
She would let him lead. Do what he asked.
His finger brushed her bare cleft and she moaned, trapped between his body and the mattress. There was no place to go. No place she’d rather be.
“I want to fuck you nine ways from Sunday,” he growled.
“Only nine?”
“You’re pushing your luck, Avery.”
She was actually hoping, praying, it had finally run out if it meant Gunner making love to her.
“Like that, baby?” He circled her clit, light pressure and then heavier until she was moving her hips to his rhythm. She could come from that alone. She leaned up and bit his shoulder a little and he shuddered above her. She heard him groan her name and she smiled against his skin.
“Need to taste you,” he told her, and she nodded as his head dipped between her legs, put her thighs on his shoulders and ordered, “Watch me.”
Oh, God, oh God . . . he licked her cleft, his gaze daring her to look away. She didn’t, couldn’t. He was in total control, something she’d never thought she’d want in any way, shape or form.
She wanted. He licked her slowly, maddeningly so. Grabbed her hips and stopped her when she tried to get him to increase the pressure. But he was intent on torturing her, his blue eyes grabbing hold of her, the orgasm building so slowly in her womb that she swore she couldn’t take it.
“Gunner . . . please . . .”
She could tell he was smiling, and then he plunged his tongue into her, burying himself in her sex. He tongued her sex, stopping to press her clit hard. She nearly jumped off the bed, clutched the air and then fisted her hands as she tugged at the binding around her wrists.
He wasn’t stopping. Held her hips, buried his mouth against her sex and took her more thoroughly than any man ever had.
Her body arched, skin goose-bumped as she tried to make the sensations last. But her belly tightened, her womb constricting, and the orgasm hit her like a freight train. She didn’t break his gaze as she climaxed against his mouth, and he didn’t stop licking her, even when she grew too sensitive and tried to pull away.
She was climbing toward another orgasm. She stopped resisting, let her body do what it wanted to. Its natural inclination was to climax again, far more quickly than she’d ever thought possible. He played with her
