Gunnar's Guardian

by Pandora Pine

  Gunnar’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, you think Dillon set the fire that killed his family?”

  I’d seen fathers annihilate their families in any number of ways. Not that I was going to tell Gunnar that now. “I don’t know.” That was the best answer I could give at the moment.

  “If he did kill them, then by stopping him from contaminating the scene, you preserved evidence. Same goes if Dillon didn’t kill his family.” Ozzy cringed. His scar twisted as he grimaced. “On the other hand, if there is evidence on those bodies that will help secure a conviction against the person who set this fire, how much more devastating would it be for Dillon to know he was responsible for losing it?”

  I could see Gunnar was taking this all in, trying to see the story from both angles. “None of this is easy.”

  “I had my eyes on you as much as I could, given the situation,” Ozzy started with a careful tone in his voice. He shot me a knowing look. “There were several times where you wanted to run into that burning building. Don’t try to deny it. I saw it in your eyes.”

  Instead of replying, Gunnar grabbed a plastic chair and sunk wearily into it.

  “On the way to the hospital, Hal told me what the two of you talked about earlier today.” Ozzy’s serious tone was setting off warning bells in my head. What had Gunnar and Hal been talking about today.

  “What’s this?” Shit, my voice sounded edgy and tinged with jealousy. I was such an asshole. Here Gunnar was, trying to process the worst thing he’d ever witnessed, and I was acting like a prick because a man I had no claim to was speaking to someone else. Way to go, assclown.

  Ozzy shot me a pointed look. He was no dummy. My brother knew exactly where I was coming from. “Hal said you were curious about how people decided to run into danger when everyone else was running away.”

  “Yeah,” Gunnar nodded. “I wanted to know if it was something you were born with or something that came out at the right time.”

  Christ, that’s what Gunnar and Hal had been talking about? I really was a prick. Why had Gunnar asked Hal instead of me? That was an easy question to answer. It probably had to do with the fact that I’d barely seen Gunnar in a week.

  “I think tonight answered that question. Don’t you?” There was no snark in Ozzy’s voice.

  This was one of the things I loved best about my brother. He had this innate ability to teach by leading you to the answer instead of handing it to you.

  “All I wanted to do was help that family. They were complete strangers to me, and I just wanted to run in there and save those babies.” Gunnar took a shaky breath.

  I set a hand on his shoulder, letting him know I was there for him without being too pushy.

  “Ozzy’s right. I did answer my own question.” The look on Gunnar’s face blossomed into pure wonder. “This was inside me all along.” He looked at his hands as if they were magical. “I guess it was just waiting for the right moment to make an appearance.”

  “I knew it all along,” Ozzy said, like a proud papa. “I want to sit down and talk some things over with you. My office, tomorrow at two. Don’t be late.” Ozzy pointed a finger at Gunnar.

  “Captain Graves,” a handsome ER doc was standing in the door with his shoulder against the jamb. He wore an annoyed look on his face, like this wasn’t his first rodeo with Ozzy. “Reschedule the meeting, you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Is that so, Doc?” Ozzy drew himself up to his full height. His chest puffed out and he looked like he was ready to take a swing at the doctor.

  “Stark Givens.” The doc held out his hand to shake with Gunnar. “Maybe you can talk some sense into your boss’s fool head. Lord knows I’ve never been able to.” The doc was shaking Gunnar’s hand, but hadn’t taken his eyes off Ozzy.

  Stark and Ozzy went way back. He’d chosen Gloucester Mercy for his residency and never left. The good doctor had been treating our bumps, bruises, and other injuries for nearly ten years. I’d always thought there was something a bit deeper going on between the two of them and the grudging smile on my brother’s face did nothing to change my mind.

  “Gunnar Prince,” he returned. “I’m no doctor,” Gunnar said pulling his hand free, “but I’m guessing that burn is at least second degree.”

  “Oh, and where did you go to medical school?” Stark turned a brilliant smile on Gunnar.

  Gunnar returned it with one of his own. It made my heart thud in my chest to see that smile flashed at another man. “I watch a lot of Greys and ER. Looks second degree to me.”

  That smile appeared again, but this time, there was something different about it. I thought it was almost predatory.

  “Lay off, Stark.” Ozzy wore a no-nonsense look. “Tomorrow at two, kid. Get a good night’s sleep. Take him home, Kennedy.”

  I saw the look of disappointment on Stark’s face as I led Gunnar out of the room. It was obvious I had a decision to make. Did I go for it with Gunnar and see if he was interested in me as more than a lover, or did I drop him off and walk away?

  As we headed toward the parking lot, I honestly had no idea which direction to take.

  20

  Gunnar

  I didn’t know if it was leftover adrenaline from what happened tonight or the possessive way Kennedy grabbed my hand and practically pulled me out of the room after that ER doc nearly drooled over me, but I was amped up.

  Thank Christ it was dark because my dick was so hard and heavy, I was sure it could be seen from space.

  Kennedy seemed to be in a weird mood as well. I’d never seen him act possessive over me. I couldn’t tell if it had to do with him thinking Doctor McHotpants was a bad move for me or if he was acting this way because he wanted me for himself. I wasn’t a mind reader. If he wanted me, he was going to have to tell me.

  Stark Givens had absolutely no trouble telegraphing exactly what he wanted. That man was going to fuck me until I drained him dry. I might be young and a bit inexperienced, but I knew the look of a man who desperately wanted to lose himself in me.

  Kennedy, on the other hand, was giving me the impression he was just hanging around to save me from myself, like some kind of guardian angel. He was always turning up when I needed him, but aside from that one night on his balcony after he’d had a bit to drink, he’d never made another move on me.

  What was worse, a man who was obvious in his desire for a one-night stand, or a man who was a complete fucking enigma? At this moment in time, I was going with enigma.

  Kennedy parked the SUV in his driveway and before I could say anything, he was out of the car and heading toward my door. I guessed we were adding chivalrous to Kennedy’s list of traits.

  When he opened the door, I was quick to hop out, but Kennedy’s strong right arm stopped me. I bumped back against the side panel of the SUV. There was a dangerous look in his blue eyes, which looked black in the dim light of the quarter moon.

  “Strip,” Kennedy commanded. There was no hint of a smile in his eyes. He looked dead serious.

  “Strip? What the hell is wrong with you, caveman? It might be the middle of the night, but we’ve got neighbors, you know? I’m not going to let you take me against your patrol vehicle like I’m some kind of fucking rent boy.”

  “Rent boy?” Kennedy moved closer to me. The hard plane of his chest bumped against me, pinning me against the window. “That’s exactly how Stark Givens would have treated you. He would have used you up and kicked you out.”

  “Who says I wasn’t in the mood to be used.” I wasn’t, but that was beside the point.

  Kennedy’s eyes flashed. “Wrong answer.”

  Wrong answer? What the hell was he talking about?

  Before I knew what was happening, Kennedy was ripping my shirt over my head. I heard seams pop as he muscled it over my shoulders. He threw it to the ground to land in a puddle on the driveway. “What is wrong with you?” My voice echoed into the night.

  Not bothering to answer me, Kennedy went for the button on my jeans. I was still hard as a r
ock. It wasn’t going to take much to set me off. Kennedy’s rough hands on my hips yanking the denim downward brought my attention back to him. He was down on his knees, eye level with my bulge and it didn’t seem to phase him. Not one bit. In fact, it seemed to be making him angrier. Who the hell got pissed off at an erection they caused?

  My pants hit the tops of my shoes. I could feel the humid air against my bare skin. The hungry look in Kennedy’s eyes was going to be the death of me. I couldn’t figure out if he was going to run his hand over my cock or lick it through the cotton fabric of my jockey shorts.

  Kennedy did neither. He stood up slowly. His entire body sliding against mine. His dick was as hot and hard as my own. The only difference was that it felt like a monster. I had a feeling he knew exactly how to wield it.

  His hands dropped back down to my hips. His dick jumped against my stomach. I was ready for this. So fucking ready. His hands dug into my skin. Any second now, he was going to rip my underwear down and go for it right here in the driveway.

  I wasn’t prepared for him to spin me around, flattening me against the side panel of the SUV. My face was pressed against the cool glass, while my torso was flush with the passenger back door. “What the fuck, Kennedy?” I managed to grunt.

  Kennedy pressed himself against me. I could feel the heat of him melting into my back. He felt like he was on fire. “What the fuck?” I felt his lips curl into a smile against the back of my ear. “I asked you to do something and you didn’t do it. Every time I ask you to do something you go and do just the opposite.”

  “You’re not my keeper, Kennedy.” I wanted him to be. Badly. Whatever the hell was going on here had my entire body on edge. I’d never been so completely aroused by someone before. I’d had a few random blow jobs over the years, but that only involved my dick and some stranger’s mouth. This was different. It was like Kennedy had somehow known where my switch was. His touch lit up my entire body. I pressed my ass back against him. His dick twitched against me.

  “That’s right, Gunnar. I’m not your keeper. If I was, you would obey me. You wouldn’t let a man-whore like Stark Givens fuck you with his eyes right in front of me.”

  Fuck me with his eyes? I’d never heard it put like that before, but I had to admit Kennedy had a point. “How am I supposed to stop something like that from happening? Christ, I’m twenty-one years old. My dick gets hard when the wind changes direction.”

  Kennedy growled against the back of my neck. His right hand slid down my side and across to my dick. He gave it a squeeze. I moaned out loud, bucking into his touch. His hand lit a fire in me I wasn’t going to be able to put out on my own. “Is that what this is? A stiff breeze did this to your dick? I don’t fucking think so? This is all me, get it? All me, Gunnar.”

  “All you,” I whispered. My own voice was nearly unrecognizable.

  “That’s a good boy.” Kennedy gave my package one last squeeze before pulling his hand back. “Good, but not good enough.” A loud smack rang out.

  What the hell? Did Kennedy just fucking spank me? For the first time in my life, I was absolutely speechless. I didn’t know if I should tell him to stop or ask for another. Christ, my body was a mess of sensations I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret.

  “At least I’ve got your attention.” There was a menacing tone to Kennedy’s voice. It sounded dark and most definitely aroused.

  Oh, yeah. Kennedy was getting off on this. The bigger question was what I felt. Was I getting off on this too or was some other emotion trying to work its way to the surface? I didn’t have much time to ponder that question. Another swat landed against my ass. It was harder than the first one. Thankfully, my underwear provided my cheeks some protection from his strong hand.

  “This doesn’t seem to be getting much of a reaction out of you, boy. Is it because you know you’re bad and think you deserve to be punished?”

  Christ, was that it? Did I want him to give it to me for being such a jerk to him on the day we met? Or maybe for flirting with Hal at Sunday dinner? Or letting the good doctor eye me like I was a prime cut of meat? “Yes,” I managed to whisper.

  “That’s a good boy.” Kennedy slid his hand down my back. One finger slid beneath the waistband.

  I thought the sweet torture of that move alone was going to kill me. “Kennedy,” I pled.

  “That’s right. You know you want this.” His finger slid the length of my crack, pulling my briefs down with it. The sultry night air against my bare skin only made me hotter.

  Using his other hand, Kennedy pulled my underwear down past the swell of my ass. “Gorgeous.” His hands caressed my naked skin. Puffs of his hot breath blew against the back of my neck. This little passion play was just as arousing to him as it was to me.

  “Now, you’re going to be my good boy and take this, aren’t you? We wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear you, now would we?”

  All I could do was shake my head no.

  Kennedy’s first swat against my bare ass made my dick jump in a way I didn’t know was possible. It stung like hell and I was sure there was a perfect imprint of his hand against my skin, but somehow it ratcheted up my need for him. A breathy moan escaped me.

  “You liked that, didn’t you?” Not giving me time to answer, Kennedy swatted my other cheek. He was the one to moan this time when his jean-clad dick brushed against my ass.

  “Kennedy…” I begged. I was on the edge. One more whack and I was going to lose control all over the passenger door.

  “You’re so close, aren’t you? Close enough you can taste it.” Kennedy’s words vibrated against the shell of my ear. His low voice brought me right up to the edge. What the hell was happening to me? It was as if Kennedy knew just how to play my body. As if he were the only man who could make me feel controlled, yet free. Untouched, but precariously balanced.

  The next swat landed firmly against my left cheek. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the sleeping neighborhood. “Come for me, boy!”

  All it took was his raspy voice in my ear and I was gone. My dick throbbed. My breath stuck in my throat. When my release hit, I felt like I was being sucked into the eye of a hurricane. I could feel Kennedy’s body pressed to mine. He was everywhere. My dick pumped spurt after spurt of cream in tune with my pounding heart. I cried out for Kennedy, forgetting his rule that I be still. One large hand clamped down over my lips.

  Kennedy was rocking himself back and forth against my bare ass. He was using me to get himself off. For whatever reason, that made me come so much harder. He groaned against the back of my neck and I felt a warm spot growing against my ass. He’d come too.

  With a strangled half moan, Kennedy backed away from me. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to keep myself upright. I could only imagine what I looked like, angry red handprints on both cheeks of my ass, my jizz splattered against the side of the SUV, my face was so hot, I’m sure I looked like a boiled lobster.

  “Fucking A!” Kennedy panted. “Clean that up and go to bed.” With that final order, he turned and walked away from me.

  I turned to watch him go. There was something different about the way he was walking. Usually, he stood to his full height, towering over nearly everyone he met. His stride was confident with a bit of his natural cockiness thrown in. As he walked away now, his posture was slumped. I couldn’t figure out if it was in ecstasy or in defeat.

  21

  Kennedy

  “I fucking came in my pants like a horny teenager.” I slapped my hand on the bar, not wanting to look at Hennessey’s face.

  Hennessey was the most level-headed of all my brothers. Ozzy was a hothead. Dallas acted before he thought things through, but I could always count on Hen to stay the course and hear me out. I’d told him everything that happened last night from the call to the McMasters’ fire scene, to what happened at the hospital with Stark Givens, and ending with Gunnar and I both coming like wildfire, cocks untouched.

  When I finally got the courage to look my brother in the
eye, Hennessey was holding a damp towel. Before I’d finished speaking, he’d been polishing the bar with it. There was an unreadable look in his icy blue eyes. I knew he’d speak when he had his thoughts in order, but Christ, I was dying here.

  “Sounds to me like you both got what you needed, even though neither of you knew you needed it.” He set the cloth on the bar and grabbed two bottles of water. He handed one to me before drinking half of his in one swallow. Small drops of water clung to the lower bristles of his moustache.

  I opened my mouth to tell him he was so fucking wrong, but then it hit me. Maybe my brother was right.

  “It’s been years since Micah fucked you over. Hell, I can’t remember the last time you went on a date. I can’t even remember the last time someone besides you touched your dick.” Hen scratched the side of his beard, his eyes twinkling at me as if he were challenging me to prove him wrong.

  My stomach clenched at the mention of my ex’s name. Micah Hills had been my rookie ride-along partner during his probationary period with the Gloucester Police Department. He’d been into me from the moment we met and stupidly, I’d encouraged his behavior. It was against the rules for us to fraternize since I was his superior officer. That should have mattered, but it didn’t. We burned so hot and bright together that a flame out was inevitable. When that happened and he’d moved on to his next lover, I was devastated. Stupidly, I’d fallen in love with the kid and he’d broken my heart so badly that I never wanted to fall in love again. “What if this is Micah all over again?” That had been my biggest fear all along. It was the reason why I’d kept trying to keep Gunnar at arm’s distance since we met.

  Hennessey sighed. “Are you a psychic? No! So there’s no way of knowing.” He sounded matter of fact, which was what I needed. Hen’s straightforwardness was the reason I’d come to him instead of Ozzy or Dallas.