Chasing Gunner

by Stoneback, J. M.

  “You don’t have to do that.” I wave my hand at her dismissively.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No. End of discussion.”

  She exhales loudly. “Yeah. Um, no. You’re not my boss when I clock out from work, and I’m going to do what I want. Again, what do you like to eat?”

  Classic Gia. Always wanting to have the last word.

  Rolling my eyes, I’m not in the mood to argue, so I’ll let her believe she won this argument. “Anything but Brussels sprouts and nuts.”

  She scribbles it down on a pad. “Are you allergic to anything?”

  “No, not that I know of.”

  She places the pad in her purse, and I turn my whole body to face her.

  “You’re sassy,” I say bluntly. And beautiful, not as uptight as I thought, and I’m going to fuck your brains out when you give me a chance. If I were to say that out loud, she’d call the cops on me so quick I wouldn’t be able to finish my sentence. When I inhale her scent, she smells like she rolled in a tub of fresh apples.

  “Well . . . You’re a whore.” She shakes her head and stands up from the stool. “I’m still traumatized from the smell of the couch in your office. Be a gentleman and take her to a hotel.”

  I want to tell her that she’s the reason why I needed to have a dirty fuck on that couch, but I don’t. When I fucked N—that is her legal name—I was imagining it was Gia.

  Black hair replaced with brunette.

  Icicle-blue eyes replaced with amber.

  Tawny skin replaced with pale.

  Big tits replaced with small tits.

  “I prefer the term pussy enthusiast.” I stand and tuck the barstool under the breakfast nook.

  My dick is digging into my zipper, and I don’t even bother to hide my erection as I adjust it.

  Rainbow glances down, and her cheeks turn cherry red before she bites her lip and glances away.

  Her ritual every time she’s around me.

  “I’m about to shower. I’ll see you at work in the morning,” I say before heading to the bathroom.

  I’m going to need five hand jobs and twelve cold showers to kill this erection.

  Gia

  I sit at my desk, eating a turkey sandwich during my lunch break. My laptop dings with a notification indicating I have an email. I click on the Google icon.

  From: Elizabeth Tanner

  To: Gia Gallagher

  Subject: Hot-ass Roommate

  I’m so fucking jealous you’re roomies with Gunner. How’s living with him? Is he as hot as he was in college? I’m sorry I couldn’t respond earlier to your messages, it’s hard for me to get a good connection here in Johannesburg. The photoshoot is wrapping up, and I’m coming to New York City next week.

  From: Gia Gallagher

  To: Elizabeth Tanner

  Subject: Re: Hot-ass Roommate

  He’s a clean freak. He fussed at me for leaving my clothes on the bathroom floor. He acts like the world is coming to an end if he doesn’t have his cup of joe in the morning, or he’s very cranky. And at night, I stay in my room listening to music or binge-watching The Office, and he sits at the breakfast nook burying himself in his work. I just try to stay out of his way. He’s never home on the weekends, which is okay with me. He’s ten times hotter than he was in college. And he isn’t as bad as I thought he was. I’m embarrassed about taking help from him since he’s my boss. And cool, you can spend the night with me—we can stay up all night talking like we used to when you lived here.

  PA, Underwood Banking

  From: Elizabeth Tanner

  To: Gia Gallagher

  Subject: Re: Re: Hot-ass Roommate

  Uh-oh, it sounds like you’re still crushing on him like you were in college. And okey-dokey. We can go to the spa and find some stuff for us to do. I just got paid 40k for this photoshoot, so I’ll be able to splurge.

  From: Gia Gallagher

  To: Elizabeth Tanner

  Subject Re: Re: Re: Hot-ass Roommate

  No, it isn’t even like that. Those feelings are dead and gone. And okay. I’ll see you when you get here.

  PA, Underwood Banking

  From: Elizabeth Tanner

  To: Gia Gallagher

  Subject Re: Re: Re: Re: Hot-ass Roommate

  It’s okay if you are, Gia. You can’t close yourself off to every guy you like. What kind of life is that? I know we agreed not to talk about he who must not be named and that night, and I get you’ve been to therapy, but I want you to be happy like you were before it all went down. Sometimes I miss the carefree Gia.

  I don’t respond to her message. I close the email and start to sort out Gunner’s calendar for next week.

  That night robbed me, and I don’t want to think about it. The slapping, the alcohol in my system, me lying on the cold floor and not being able to fight because I was too weak. It wasn’t my fault, at least that’s what my therapist told me, yet I can’t help but blame myself because maybe I should have never gone out.

  A lump forms in my chest, and I swallow hard. If only I could go back in time and change what happened, I would’ve never gone to that party. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to struggle every day.

  As soon as my lunch break is over, I get Gunner’s notes ready for a conference call.

  I sit in the chair in front of Gunner’s desk. Yeah, I’m not ever sitting on his couch again until it’s drenched in bleach and sprayed down with holy water. With an iPad in my hand, I clean out his emails and sort out his files while he sits at his desk and types a proposal to a shareholder.

  The air conditioner pumps out cool air, making my skin break out in a million goosebumps like a rash.

  We haven’t really talked much about anything but work for the last three weeks because our work hours have been super crazy since I told him about me living in foster care, that I was an orphan. So I don’t know what he thinks about it. It’s hard to open up to other people. But Gunner radiates a vibe where you can talk to him without judgment.

  “You want to play pool once we leave here?” he asks.

  Keeping my eyes trained on the screen, I feel his beautiful eyes on me. “No offense, Wolf, but now that I can afford Netflix I’d rather catch up on The Office,” I say as I hit the delete button on a file on the screen.

  “You watch The Office?”

  I tear my eyes from the screen and stare at his face, my cheeks flushed. He has a wolfish look to him, despite having bags under his eyes. Sprouts of auburn hair decorate his chin. I actually prefer men with beards. “Do you have a hearing problem? I just said that.”

  Ignoring my snide comment, he says, “You didn’t peg me as a person who likes comedy shows.”

  “You didn’t peg me as Mr. Save-a-Damsel-in-Distress, yet here we are.” I stand from the black chair and tuck the iPad under my arm. “You need anything else?”

  He leans back in his executive chair and uncuffs his designer cufflinks, loosens his brown tie. “Netflix and chill?” His voice is husky.

  Is he asking me what I think he’s asking? I might not have had a boyfriend for almost a decade, but I know what it means. Izzy has done it before with some of the guys and women she’s dated, and I can’t believe he would ask me that. Well, that’s a lie. Gunner puts the capital W in whore. Even though I want him to jump my bones, and I can’t help the way my body responds to him, and the thought of us sleeping together makes me wet as the ocean, I can’t act out on those thoughts. He’s tempting, too. It’s already hard enough living with him, trying not to want him.

  “Gunner.” My voice cracks like an egg. “I’m not having sex with you.”

  His eyes dilate. “Time the fuck out.” He creates a T with his hands. “I didn’t ask you to fuck.”

  I glance out the window. The sun is setting behind the tall buildings, and white fluffy clouds float in the baby-blue sky.

  Why is he being so nice to me?

  For the life of me, I can’t wrap my head around it. “Why?”

  �
��Why what?”

  I tear my eyes from the breathtaking view and glare at him. “You want to hang out with me? What’s your angle?”

  “There’s none.”

  “That’s bullcrap. You’re being nice—too nice. You let me crash at your crib, and now you want to hang out.” He stares at me like I’ve grown three heads. “Is this your way of trying to screw me?”

  Slowly, he stands from the chair and marches up to me, resting both hands on my shoulders. “Rainbow, calm down.”

  “You’re not answering my question,” I shoot back.

  “I’m not trying to fuck you.” His lustful eyes drink me up from head to toe, and he licks his lips like he wants to devour me. “Not that you’re not fuckable.”

  Maybe I’m too suspicious. I just never had a man helping me without something in return.

  Gunner isn’t like him, I tell myself. Not every man is a pig. Not every guy wants to hurt me.

  “I’m a straightforward man. If I’m going to fuck you, I’ll tell you. I wouldn’t use Netflix either. I have better game than that.” He removes his hands from my shoulders and rubs the back of his neck. “Are we gonna watch the show? I’ll order you your favorite spaghetti and meatballs from Patsy’s.”

  How did he know that was my favorite restaurant? I shake my head; it doesn’t matter.

  “Okay.”

  Gunner

  I meant it when I said I have no intention of fucking her, even though my dick is not in line with it. Once again, my impulsiveness got the best of me with Gia. Something about her being into comedies made my dick hard in my designer pants.

  It isn’t that bad sharing my space with her, even though I prefer my cups and plates to be on the top shelf instead of the bottom. She leaves her clothes scattered on the bathroom floor. And I think she’s using my razor to shave her legs because I found fine brown hair on the blades. Oddly, I don’t mind sharing it, and if she wanted to wear my clothes, I would let her.

  Jesus, Gunner, what the hell is wrong with you?

  And her perfume bottle, hair spray, and lotion clutter my side of the sink. My bathroom went from clean and manly to a hair salon.

  Don’t get me started on how she leaves strays of her brown hair in the sink. She replaced a few of my expensive black Egyptian cotton towels with cheap, yellow towels from the dollar store. You have to wipe yourself five million times to get dry. She decorated the entertainment center with pink and purple candles and placed those scent things that look like decoration on the end tables. Now it smells like a Bath and Body Works store.

  She’s easy to live with, and she never pries into my personal life either.

  Bonus points for Gia for not acting like an overbearing chick who’s only interested in using my cock to milk money out of me.

  I click the pause button as I wait for Gia to come back from the kitchen—she’s dumping our empty plates of food from Patsy’s. She eats there three times a week; I know because she’s always saying how sorry she is for using my credit card. And to take it out of her check, even though that’s why I gave it to her, to buy stuff on it for work. Gia is very humble and appreciative, which makes her ten times more beautiful.

  I rub my sweaty palms against my basketball shorts. Several moments later, Gia stalks into the living room with double-chocolate-chip cookies and Rice Krispie treats on a silver tray.

  “Okay, hit play,” she says, setting the treats on the metal table. The thirteenth episode plays on the screen, and she shoves two cookies into my hands. “Tell me what they taste like.” She stares at me with her doe eyes as I bite into the cookie, and it melts on my tongue like warm honey.

  “It’s good,” I say between bites.

  “Just good?” Her eyebrows knit together.

  “It tastes awesome.”

  Rainbow’s face dances with excitement, and she wiggles her shoulders. “I thought I added too much sugar, but I guess it isn’t too sweet.” She leans back on the suede black couch, and I’ve never seen so much passion igniting her face. She looks at me like I went to the sky and handpicked the stars for her.

  “You better grab some, or I’ll eat the rest.”

  “Go right ahead. I only eat sweets on Saturdays.”

  I look at her sideways as her eyes are glued to the TV. “Why only on Saturday?”

  “Shh . . . we’ll talk about that later. Let’s finish watching the show.”

  Is she on one of those weird keto diets? She’s no longer wearing the beige dress that hugs her breasts and hips she wore earlier to work, but a pink cotton T-shirt with matching pajama shorts and purple knee-high socks. Her wardrobe is as bright as a bag of Skittles. Her hair is piled on top of her head, a few strands fall down, and her face is free from makeup. Just fucking beautiful. And she isn’t even aware of how beautiful she is—that when she’s in the room with a bunch of shareholders, they’re staring at her like she’s the most valuable prize.

  I avert my eyes to the screen, but her presence is making it hard to concentrate on the show. This is harder than I thought. It’s too dangerous for me to be sitting here with the woman who I’ve been fantasizing about fucking for almost a decade.

  Is she shy in the bedroom? I can’t picture her taking charge or telling me what she likes. For fuck’s sake, she doesn’t even curse.

  Stop it, Gunner.

  It isn’t going to happen.

  No more thinking about fucking your employee and roommate.

  “You want to watch the next one?” Gia asks.

  “Sure.” Even though I have no idea what happened in the previous episode.

  She hits the skip intro button, and the next episode starts to play.

  Fucking fantastic, now my dick is as hard as stone. I snatch the lavender pillow Rainbow decided to decorate my couch with and cover up my hard dick.

  This is awkward.

  I stare at her like a beautiful painting, and she says, “Do I have something on my face?”

  She turns her body toward me, and the light from the television outlines her face.

  “No. Why?” I rub my bottom lip.

  “You keep staring at me. You have a staring problem.”

  “Says the woman who is eye-fucking me in meetings and staring at my ass.”

  Her breath hitches. I caught her a few times staring at me in a meeting. Noticed her gaze drifting down to my crotch and her cheeks turning red when I gave a lecture on a new policy during the HR meeting.

  No matter how much she hates me, she can never mask how she looks at me like I’m eye candy. She’s wearing her emotions on her face. Like right now, she’s so fucking flustered and hot it isn’t doing her justice.

  A frown masks her face. “How do you know I was staring at your butt?”

  “I have eyes in the back of my head.”

  Face turning pink, she sticks out her tongue and points the remote at the television again. “Whatever.”

  Okay, it’s time to figure out Rainbow and what she likes besides comedy. Since I’m stuck in the friend-zone limbo, I might as well milk her for information. Women are disposable to me, so getting to know them isn’t on the top of my to-do list. I cease all connection with them when the last drop of cum drips from my dick after I fuck them. The moment I let them stick around, they begin to beg for money more than a homeless person on the street.

  I snatch the remote from her hand to hit pause, and she looks at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind. Hell, yeah, I have.

  “Gunner, what are you doing?” Her voice is loud and the lines in her forehead deepen. She’s so cute when I piss her off.

  “Milking questions out of you,” I say, and she tries to take the remote from my hand, so I hold it in the air. “You gotta be quicker than that.”

  She huffs out loud like a drama queen. “Fine. What do you exactly want to know?”

  “The basics. What’s your favorite color?” I assess her from head to toe, not good for my dick. “Your favorite color is pink or purple.”

  “Bubblegum pink,
” she corrects.

  “Tell me something else.”

  “Really? You want to ask me all these questions during a show? Remind me not to invite you to the movies,” she whines.

  I shoot her a you-better-start-talking look.

  “Fine, I love to bake, take pictures, and scrapbooking. Also, I love to collect knee-high socks—especially in bright colors. I love, love rain.” Her smile is radiating love and passion. A feeling I haven’t felt in a long-ass time. “The sound of it tapping against the roof, the smell of it, especially when it’s a day in April.” She pauses. “Rain is beautiful even though it smells musky, and the sky is gray. Most people say rain is depressing, but not for me. It’s peaceful. It’s like a slice of heaven on earth.” Her cheeks are flushed, and she pulls her legs to her chest to rest her chin on her knees. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

  Happiness stamps her face and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. A mouth I want to use and abuse with my dick.

  “Hell must have frozen over if you’re having a conversation with someone.”

  “I don’t talk to people I don’t know or feel comfortable around unless I have to.”

  That explains why she’s standoffish with people at work. Mason asked me during a lunch meeting if she was gay because when he spoke to her she treated him like he had an STD, avoided shaking his hand, and when he asked her for a lunch date, she told him flat-out no. I was relieved she turned him down. When it comes to other women, there isn’t a possessive bone in my body. I don’t care if they fuck around on me if I decide to keep them around for a long time—which is very rare, like every-blue-moon rare—but with Gia, I wanted her all to myself. Even back in college when she wouldn’t give me the time of day.

  “Why did you drop out of college?” When I read her résumé she only needed sixty credits to graduate with her business degree.