“Come on, Gunner. You can trust me,” I purred, my voice
sounding like a Hooters waitress laying the charm on
thick to get a big fat tip.
I had one hand toying with the hem of his snug black T-
shirt, my hips grinding into his Wranglers. The way that
zipper fly was bulging against my thigh almost made me
forget I was on the attack. “You can tell me. I’ve always
been good at keeping secrets.”
Gunner looked pained. “Again, it’s privileged
information, Laney.” He leaned in closer, grazing his
five o’clock shadow along my chin. “Damn you smell good,”
he said, sucking in some air. “Buy the lavender soap at
the Piggly Mart again?”
I hooked my thumbs in his belt loops and tugged, pulling
him into me. “Why are you all of a sudden acting so
serious?”
He always did have a hard-on for the slutty-bimbo type. A
low, throaty groan tore from his chest when he dipped his
mouth toward mine. My lips parted, welcoming him home. I
felt his tongue skim my teeth, and then he swallowed my
moan with a hungry kiss. Aw hell, he tasted like homemade
vanilla ice cream, a little too sweet, but so sinfully
delicious.
Maybe I hadn’t completely thought this through, because
the way he was kissing me torched any comeback as a
raging wildfire of pure undignified lust burst throughout
my entire body. On a long, hard caress, he forced the
tender embrace deeper and pulled my tongue into a
tantalizing dance with his. Savoring the moment, he
wrapped both arms tighter around my waist, and wasted no
time to teach me each one of his smooth moves.
And damn, did I want to be schooled.
Gunner broke the body-aching kiss, and before I could say
“more” his mouth touched my earlobe, and then he
whispered, “Word has it that Wyatt might be in deep with
Manny Sanchez.”
“Manny Sanchez?” I asked, surprised.
“That’s right.”
He continued working his mouth along my neck, which might
as well have been between my legs. I’d gone from bitch to
horny in about five seconds flat.
I feathered my lips across his stubbled chin, inhaling
the richness of his aftershave as I said softly, “Who’d
have thought.”