by Mazzy King
Did I just say that out loud?
Before the full horror of that realization can fall over me, Gunner tugs me toward him, wraps his arms around my body, and dips his face toward mine.
Holy shit.
One breath away from my mouth, he whispers, “Is this okay?”
I don’t want to waste another second on words.
I tangle my fingers in his hair and crash my mouth to his.
Chapter 6
Gunner
That I’m able to walk away from Isla to my car, get in, and drive away after the hot kiss we just had is a miracle.
But…duty. It calls.
On the drive to headquarters, I replay that delicious, mind-blowing moment over and over in my mind. It was unprofessional of me to tell her I wanted to stay, but dammit…it was the truth. It’s still true. And I needed to know she felt the same way.
She does.
I read it in her eyes. The truth was evident in every line of her curvy body, in the blaze of her green eyes. She…wanted me.
Just like I want her.
Not only that, but I sense she really needs someone to be there for her. Tonight is going to be rough—the trauma of the day and living through what she did and seeing what she saw will very likely catch up to and crash into her, and I would hate for her to be alone.
Her desire and her need and her fear all culminated into one forceful surge of emotion, drawing us together with a snap, and her soft mouth underneath mine was what kissing an angel must feel like.
My hand tightens on the steering wheel as my heart beats a little faster. Her lips were delicious, but her tongue was even better. I didn’t intend on deepening the kiss, but I couldn’t help it. She was there to meet my tongue stroke for stroke, and goddamn.
I want to put my tongue everywhere on her.
When we finally parted, dizzy, my phone vibrating between us, I promised her I’d come back after I finished up at HQ. She told me she’d have dinner waiting. I left before I told her I planned to have her for dessert.
I wouldn’t want to scare her. Honesty can be a beast sometimes.
At HQ, I speed through my reports. I use less speed when sitting down with my sergeant to discuss everything that happened once I entered the bank, including Isla’s heroics, and I tell him I gave her a ride home.
“I would have liked to talk to her about what occurred, but Jaxson mentioned she was extremely shaken up,” Sarge says.
“She was,” I admit. “Still is.” And now she’s got me all shaken up…
“I’d like her to speak to the detectives,” Sarge presses. “One of the assholes who was involved today somehow has a shit-sharp lawyer who, I suspect, is going to try to get a lesser charge for his client. Eyewitness testimony would be instrumental in preventing that from happening. Otherwise, he might go free after a reduced sentence. Supposedly he’s got a clean record, but I’d be willing to bet that’s because he’s never been caught.”
“I’ll see if we can bring her in,” I say. “I know where she works and lives.” It’s probably not a great idea to mention I’ll be going back over for dinner this evening. I’m by no means lead investigator on this case, so I’m not technically breaking any rules, but the waters can get muddy if the defense attorneys believe a witness has been swayed. And though my role in the overall operation is done, hers isn’t. She can’t be forced to give a statement, but if the detectives working the case want to, they can subpoena her. It’s risky for both of us.
But she’s worth the risk.
Around six p.m., I’m finally on the way out to my car. I’m going to run home and shower—it’s been a long, sweaty day—and then hopefully spend the rest of the evening getting to know everything I can about Miss Isla Gregory…and maybe indulging in more of those intense kisses that immediately got my dick hard as a staff.
“Gunner,” a voice calls out.
I turn, seeing Jaxson jogging after me. “Hey, Jax.”
“Where you headed?” he says in this strangely knowing way.
I scratch the back of my head. Lying is a part of my job, but I don’t make it part of my personal life. Besides, I have too much respect for Jaxson to bullshit him. He’d know, anyway. He’s got this intense ability to read people, even more than the average cop, and it’s part of what makes him a shoo-in for sergeant the next time promotions come up.
“You know where,” I finally say.
Jaxson shakes his head. “Is that…smart? To get involved?”
I shrug. “It’s not against the rules. I’m not directly involved in the investigation. I was just a means to an end for the rest of you to do your thing. I filed my reports, I gave my statements, now I’m onto the next case.” And that’s the truth—I already have several case files from Gang Unit they need help with.
“The proximity would raise some eyebrows,” Jaxson says gently. “I’m not telling you what to do. You’re a grown man. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you to slow down a little and think with your head. Not your…other head.”
“She’s not a piece of ass, Jax.” I frown, but the surge of possessiveness that goes through me and the need to defend her catches me off guard. “I…care about her.”
He arches a brow. “You just met her.”
“Listen, Jax, I know you’re looking out for me,” I say, trying to rein in the annoyance I feel. “You’d do the same for Saint, for all of us, and I appreciate that. But this isn’t about my dick needing to get wet. I…feel something for Isla. Something I can’t ignore or deny. I can’t remember ever feeling this way before and you know how my last relationship went.”
His lips tighten and he lowers his gaze. Yeah, he does remember the night I poured my heart out to him two years ago after my then-girlfriend decided life with a cop was too hard. My hours were all over the place, I worked nights, I didn’t have a traditional weekend off, I worked holidays. She wanted “normalcy,” whatever that meant to her. And that was okay. I could and can appreciate that—I just didn’t appreciate being cheated on in the process.
Since then, dating hasn’t been a thing I wanted in my life. Truthfully, I’m terrified of getting hurt again.
“All I want is someone to love, and to love me back,” I tell him, my voice low. I hate myself for the tremor in it. “And someone to accept me for who I am, badge and all. This life isn’t for everyone—you know that as well as I do. But there’s got to be someone out there who can handle everything that comes with loving a cop. Right? There’s just got to.”
Jaxson sighs and gives me a look full of understanding and sympathy.
“I can be a cynical prick sometimes,” I continue, “and I know it seems like I don’t take a lot seriously. But the feeling I felt when I met Isla and every crazy thing that’s happened to us makes me feel like…I should take this one seriously.”
My friend blinks down at the ground, then meets my gaze. “Want to know something?” he asks.
I nod.
“I’ve been in love with someone for a while now,” he confesses. “And she’s someone I barely know. And…yeah. I met her on the job.”
I cock my head. This is news. Who could he be talking about?
“It was fleeting, but it was meaningful. I felt something when I looked at her I don’t think I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Circumstances have me at a distance, but if I could…” He swallows. “If I could, I’d go to her, too.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Be careful, Gunner. Just…go get your girl, all right?”
I smile at him. We aren’t blood. But he is my brother. In blue. For life.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. We do the bro-hug-shake combo, and then I jog to my car. I have to tell Isla how I feel…as crazy as it’s going to sound. She might tell me to leave. She might ask me to stay. But she has to know. I need her to know.
Doubt creeps in on the drive to my place, then grows as I shower, change, and make sure I smell good. By the time I reach her driveway, bottle of wine in one hand, a small bouquet of stargaze
r lilies in the other, I’ve convinced myself I need to just enjoy a meal with her, chat a little, and then take my ass home.
But when the door opens, she stands in front of me in leggings that follow every shapely curve of her calves, thighs, and ass, a soft-looking sweater with a plunging, lace-edged neckline that shows the tops of her delicious breasts, and with her hair in long, loose curls, I fall even harder.
How could any man not love this goddess on sight?
The smell of roasting meat fills the house behind her, wafting out to my nose. It’s a comforting, homey kind of smell, and for a second, I’m transported to some moment in the future, coming home from a long, hard day at work, and finding this woman who loves me is here to welcome me home.
“Hi,” Isla says, a beautiful smile perking her lips.
“Hi.” Smooth, Gunner. I clear my throat. “These are for you.” I hold out the wine and the flowers.
Her eyes brighten. “Lilies. My favorite.”
Thank you, knowledgeable flower shop woman. “Yeah. They smell really good.”
“Yes, they do.” Her lashes flutter a little as she meets my gaze. “Well, come in.”
I follow her inside. The smell of cooking food grows stronger, and my stomach growls.
“I guessed you might be a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy,” she says, deftly uncorking the wine. “Unless I’m totally off-base and you’re a vegan.”
I chuckle. “No. You’re spot on.”
She hands me a glass of the red wine I brought her, sipping her own. “Mm. It’s really good. I hope you’re hungry.”
I can’t help letting my gaze travel down to her breasts, and then her thighs. “Starving.”
Something dark flashes in her eyes that matches the note in my voice. “Gunner…”
I set my glass down, then hers, and reach for her hand. “I’ve been thinking about you since the second I left.”
She draws a shaky breath. “Me, too. It’s… I’m a little scared.”
Good, I’m not the only one. “Tell me what you’re scared of.”
“How…much I feel,” she whispers. “I—it’s been a long time. I was in a really bad relationship. You’re the first person I’ve met who’s made me feel like I want to give it a try again.”
I want to know every detail she’s comfortable sharing about the asshole who clearly broke her heart. I want to do a background check on this fucker and pray he’s got some warrants. At the very least, I want to find out where he lives, follow him, find a reason to pull him over—and believe me, I’ll find one—and write him a ridiculous ticket.
But more than anything, right now, I just want to know how I can be here for her.
“Give what a try?” I ask, brushing a lock of hair away from her cheek.
She stares at my chest, her lips tightening.
“You can tell me anything,” I add.
“Love,” she murmurs. “I want to give love a try again.”
Damn.
That’s all I need to know.
Chapter 7
Gunner
I tip her chin up, gaze into her surprised eyes for a second, then lower my mouth to hers. I try to keep it sweet, to communicate to her she can rely on me, trust me, but she responds hungrily. Her hands grip my shoulders, my neck, one tangles in my hair, and her lips part beneath mine. I take the invitation and slide my tongue against hers. We need this. We need each other.
The air is filled with our harsh breaths and low moans, the wet smack of lips as we feast on each other’s mouths. My cock swells in my jeans and I can’t help grinding my hips against her slightly. She surprises me by slinging a leg around my hip, allowing me to press against that hot, sweet spot between her legs.
“I need you,” she whimpers in my ear.
“God, not nearly as much as I need you,” I groan against her neck. “Please tell me I can have you.”
“Take me,” she says, and I almost come in my jeans.
She guides me to the bedroom.
I ease off her sweater. Underneath she wears a lacy bra. I spare a couple seconds to admire it, then undo the front clasp and slowly pull it apart. Her breasts are full and round, her nipples rosy and hard. I waste no time lowering my head to suck her nipple between my lips, using my teeth to tease it. She moans softly and grips my shoulders.
“I’m not naked yet,” she whispers teasingly.
I lift my head. “Is that an order, ma’am?”
“You bet your ass. Officer.”
“Mm.” I bite my bottom lip and lay her down on her back, then peel her leggings off. She’s bare underneath, and she’s bare between her legs except for a trimmed, triangular patch I fully intend to explore with my tongue.
“Now you’re not naked,” she adds.
I grin and tug my shirt over my head. “Is this better?”
Her gaze goes over my tanned torso, clocking the ridges of muscle and the large tattoo over my left pec.
“Not quite,” she says.
I undo my belt, unzip my jeans, and tug them off, along with my socks. My dick strains through my snug boxer briefs. I reach down and grip it. Her eyes go wide. I’m a blessed man in that department—I’m a thick nine inches, and I want to give her every last bit of me. “Now?”
She shakes her head slowly, one side of her mouth curving up. I nearly lose my shit when she strokes a finger between her folds. “Not yet.”
God, she’s a sexy little thing. I’m dying to find out how wet she is.
I tug my underwear down over my hips. My cock reaches for her.
“That’s better,” she says breathily.
I crawl over her, cup her hips, and pull her toward me. Then I part her thighs and push them back a little so her knees point toward her shoulders. She gasps a little.
Her pussy is a thing of beauty. Her folds are puffy and she smells so sweet, my mouth waters.
“I came over to eat,” I tell her in a husky voice. “And there’s nothing that looks as delicious as you.”
I lower my mouth. I consider teasing her, but I want her on my tongue so badly, I go straight for the gold. She gasps again in response, her body tightening.
“Oh, yes,” she moans, reaching down to grip my hair.
I take big, greedy mouthfuls of her, reaching in deep with my tongue so I can taste every bit of her. Her skin is so smooth against my mouth, I can only imagine what it’ll feel like when I slide home. I work my tongue up and down her opening, then tease and suckle her clit. Her body grows tense under my hands, and then her hips start rolling.
I groan appreciatively as little excited squirts of her juice, like biting into a sweet, ripe orange, land on my tongue.
Oh, hell yes. She’s going to come.
She calls my name as she shatters, writhing underneath me. “Gunner!”
“Yes, baby?” I smirk as I slide up her body, stopping to dip the tip of my tongue in her belly button and tease her nipples again.
“Let me taste you,” she begs, and shimmies down until my hips hover over her face. Before I can say a word, she’s damn near swallowing my dick, and the sensation is so intensely amazing I almost black out for a second. Her lips squeeze and her tongue licks in a perfect rhythm. One of her hands grips the base of my cock and strokes slowly while the other cups my balls and massages me gently.
“Holy fuck,” I grunt. I reach down and place a hand on top of her head, losing myself in the sensation of her beautiful mouth. When I near the point of no return, I draw my hips back. I pull her up underneath me and bring my mouth to hers. We tongue-kiss deeply as I stroke the head of my cock up and down her soaking-wet slit, easing in a tiny bit each time. It’s the best kind of torture for both of us, and as I continue to take my time entering her, I feel her clench tighter and tighter.
“I’m gonna—” she gasps, and as I thrust all the way in, finding her limit, she bursts around me again, moaning my name.
“Fuck, that was so hot,” I breathe.
“Fast, I want it fast,” she moans. “F
ast and hard!”
“Anything you want,” I whisper against her lips, and give her exactly what she asked for.
In no time at all, she’s reaching another peak, and this time, she brings me off the edge of the cliff with her. And because I’m greedy as fuck, I suck and lick her again, bringing her to a fourth shattering climax, while I jack myself to prepare for round two. Then I flip over onto my back and lose myself in the way she rides me, her breasts dangling temptingly over my mouth, her hair brushing my face, her breathy moans the sweetest music filling the room.
We come together again, with me buried deep, her sweet nectar splashing on my hips.
For a long moment, we lay forehead to forehead, catching our breath.
Isla giggles. “Your stomach is growling.”
“Hmm.” I grip two handfuls of her amazing ass. “I guess I need thirds.”
She swats my chest. “You need real food.”
I quickly give up teasing, because I am hungry. “Can we eat in bed?”
“Sure.”
“Let me get it.” I slide a hand up to her thigh, preparing to shift her off me.
“No, no. Stay here.”
I watch as she slides off me and casually throws on the T-shirt I’d worn underneath my leather jacket. It just covers her ass, and I tilt my head to watch her walk out of the room.
What a goddamn delicious sight that is.
She makes two trips, protesting my offers to help both times, to drop off our half-drunk wine and the bottle, and then bringing plates. She offers me meatballs tossed in an onion gravy, mashed potatoes, and green beans. It smells fantastic, and it tastes even better.
“Jesus Christ,” I practically whine, the meatball I just bit into damn near melting in my mouth. “This is the best meal I’ve had in a while.”
She smiles, licking potatoes off the tines of her fork. I never knew mashed potatoes could be that sexy. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Let me get this straight.” I stop for a sip of wine. “You’re beautiful. You’re brilliant and successful. You’re talented. And you can cook? You do realize you’re perfect, right?”