Page 49

“Gunner, I’m so close. Don’t change anything.”

Every man I’d been with chose the milliseconds before I found release, if I found it, to change what was working. But not Gunner. Instead, he decided to give me the same special treatment I’d given him.

“Fall apart, Ryan,” he commanded as he pushed his finger in my ass, sending me over the edge while I yelled his name.

“Fuck, babe,” Gunner cried out, finding his release inside me.

I’d never let a man fuck me bare, and now I didn’t think I could ever go back. There was something so erotic about feeling his cum filling me up. Gunner pulled out, letting his last few spurts hit my pussy lips.

“Goddamn, I knew watching our cum leak out of you would be hot as fuck.”

I turned around to face him, and without breaking eye contact, I scooped up the cum making its way down my thigh and brought it up to my mouth to lick clean.

Gunner’s nostrils flared, and I swore I saw his cock twitch. Unable to help himself, he tangled my hair in his hand and slammed our lips together.

When he pulled back, we both were breathing hard.

“I’m fucked, Ryan. Utterly fucked. And I can’t seem to care,” he whispered.

Gunner

I’d been torched before, and it was nothing compared to lying with Ryan in my arms as she ground her wet pussy against my leg and not waking her up to fuck her. But I’d decided it would be selfish to risk everything because I couldn’t control my dick.

That commitment sure lasted long.

I watched her lithe body ride against my thigh for about five minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore. But I didn’t think through what slapping her ass would do. The Reapers cockblocking me from their graves was a blessing until my restraint broke at the thought of her naked, wet body standing in my shower just feet away.

The internal war I had going on was brutal. On the one hand, her supposed engagement to Mario gave me a clean break, but on the other, I couldn’t get the image of Ryan lying in a pool of blood out of my head. And the heartache and regret that gripped my soul at that sight. Those feelings made me question everything. I didn’t know if what I was doing was worth a damn if I didn’t get to keep Ryan at the end of it.

I broke.

And now I was more fucked than before because I would never be able to leave her after having her. Part of me hated her for that, hated that she made me feel so much in this life. She was so beautiful, with her scarred, caring heart and attitude as sharp as the blade she wielded. We were one and the same, she and I. Our hardened hearts beat only for those we felt needed caring for. And we didn’t blink an eye when violence was required to punish those who deserved it.

“The irony of my other half being in the Los Muertos Cartel…” I mumbled.

The bathroom door opened, and I couldn’t help the smile on my face when Ryan walked out, her long locks wrapped in a towel precariously perched on her head. Her eyes narrowed, daring me to comment.

“Don’t give me that look, Gunner,” she warned, her hands resting on her hips. “Today was not supposed to be a hair washing day, but as usual, asshole men ruined my plans. So now, instead of my nice microfiber towel, I have this.” She gestured to the top of her head while letting out an exasperated sigh.

I didn’t have the balls to tell her I had no clue how most of those towels had gotten into my bathroom. The only one I bought and used was the navy towel around her body. Closing the distance between us, I wrapped my arms around her. I didn’t think I could be around her and not touch her.

“Babe, I fucked you while dried blood that was not your own ran down your body. You and this towel thing won’t scare me away,” I said, leaning down and gently sucking on her bottom lip. Her hands moved to my chest. I loved that they were rough. How had I thought she was a cartel princess?

My tongue prodded the split in her lip, knowing she loved a bite of pain. She hissed, digging her nails into my skin, our tongues going to war. I needed to break away if we were going to get to Pres’s office on time. I stiffened at the thought of Ryan being interrogated by Pres.

Breaking away, I cupped her face in my hands.

“Ryan, when you see Pres, you can’t say anything about the burner or that we think someone from the cartel may be involved,” I warned, watching as she assessed my words, searching for tells of deceit from me.

I refrained from grimacing at the idea of her not trusting me because why would she? This world was built on deceit and betrayal. If you wanted to survive, you had to sus out the lies.

And I had a lot of lies. More than I was able to share with her. But I wasn’t lying on this matter, and she seemed to believe me.

“Okay. So you don’t want your pres to know. But let me guess, Dex knows?” she asked.

God, was she sharp.

“Yeah, Dex knows.” I chuckled. “Pres knows about the bodies, and Torque was with me when we discovered the tattoos. But at the moment, they think they might’ve defected. Pres asked me not to tell you shit when you woke up, so you’ll have to pretend you don’t know anything other than the fight…Pres thinks you might be lying to us.”