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But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever be okay with someone else washing my panties.
It’s a hard line.
Gunner and I packed light for this week; one small suitcase each, my handbag that comes with a phone and my weapons, and his laptop bag that comes with enough technology to run an empire from afar.
Grabbing them all but my handbag, Gunner closes the trunk and still manages to free up a hand to take mine and lead me toward the house.
“It annoys me a lot to say this…”
He chuckles. “Okay.”
“But your house is really pretty. I love how secluded it is. Your closest neighbor is, what, five miles away?”
He nods. “About that. No one will hear you scream.”
I roll my eyes as we make our way up the dozen or so steps at the front of the wooden porch surrounded by stone. “Funny guy. I like being alone. I like the quiet and seclusion, so I suppose, if I must live in luxury for a week…”
“This’ll do?” He stops at the front door, sets our bags down and, digging his hands into his pockets, pulls out a set of keys and pushes them into the lock. “It’s not quite Griffin Plaza. But it’s not an alleyway.”
“Something between, then?”
“Yeah.” His lips pull up on one side. Throwing one arm over my shoulder and pulling me in close, he pushes the door open to reveal a massive room that is open on both levels.
Wood logs everywhere, every wall, every staircase banister, every doorway. A long island counter made of the same wood as the rest of the house takes up a massive portion of one end of the room, stainless steel appliances behind it. A circular staircase leads up to the next floor, and a mezzanine-type balcony spreads around so sleeping spaces surround the living room.
I turn at the A-shaped window I saw outside and, just as predicted, draw in a deep breath at the sight of the driveway, a rainbow of daisies, the car, and beyond that? Nothing but trees. The road is a full mile almost straight down, so we don’t see any cars through the trees, we don’t hear them.
When inside this home, it’s as though we could be the only people on the planet.
“Jesus, Gunner. Compensating for a small dick, or what?” I walk away from the window when he comes back through the door with our bags, drops them, and closes up behind himself.
It’s March, so the snow is gone, but the mountain air is still chilly.
This weather is kind of exactly the same as it was when we met. Cool, windy, but when a man takes you in his arms as Gunner does now, it’s not so bad.
“Are you tired?” He presses a kiss to the side of my neck and squeezes me tight. “Wanna sit, or take a tour?”
“We’ve been sitting for hours.” I turn in his arms. “Let’s tour.”
“Okay.” He smacks a noisy kiss on my cheek, then pulls me toward the kitchen. “This is the space allocated for women. It’s often where they prepare meals for the men in their life. The women are usually required to be sans footwear.”
“Absolutely not.”
He laughs and passes through the state-of-the-art space. “No to the cooking, or no to the bare feet?”
“All of it. You can go fuck yourself.”
“But I’d rather fuck you.” His hand slides around my hips and up to cup my left boob. “Come on,copper. I have heaps more to show you.”
He leads me out of the space between the oven and the counter, only to stop again when we clear the tiniest gap in the wooden floorboard. Reaching to his right, he flips a switch that I would have assumed was for the garbage disposal, but it makes a rectangle of floor about six feet long and four feet wide lift, lift, and then reverse to reveal another wooden staircase that leads into pitch blackness.
My heart races when the unknown opens up right in front of me. “I never once agreed to being murdered in this home, Gunner. Suddenly I’m reminded that we really did only just meet. Perhaps you’ve become a psycho in the last twenty years.”
“Nah.” He flips a light switch that illuminates the staircase and leads me down. “I was a psycho long ago. Pretty sure I was born with it.”
“Like a Maybelline model?”
His brows furrow. “Huh?”
