Gunner shut the door behind him and crossed his arms. “This wasn’t random. Jesse did this.”
“I know.” She exhaled, rubbing her temples. “I should’ve seen this coming.”
“That’s exactly why I want to handle this.” His voice was rough, edged with the frustration he was barely keeping in check. “I need to loop in the club.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I can handle it.”
He gave her a look. “Handling it how, Dawn? You think the cops are gonna do something? They won’t. And Jesse’s only gonna keep pushing.”
She shook her head, her expression tight with worry. “I don’t want you getting caught up in this, Gunner. I can’t have this blowing back on you.”
His eyes darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “That’s not your call.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping low, firm. “You really think I can just stand by and do nothing while some piece of shit stalks you? Slashes your tires? Sends you threats? Hell, no, Dawn.”
Her lips parted slightly, her gaze searching his. For a second, she looked like she might lean into him, might let him be the shield he was aching to be for her. But then she straightened, that stubborn fire in her eyes. “Just let me handle this my way for now.”
Gunner ground his teeth, everything in him rebelling against the idea of standing back while Jesse prowled around, unchecked. His fists curled at his sides, the urge to hunt the bastard down nearly overwhelming. But he respected her too much to bulldoze over her decision. Even if it killed him.
He blew out a slow breath, forcing his fingers to relax. “Fine. But the second this escalates, I’m handling it my way.”
Dawn hesitated, like she knew what that meant. Knew exactly what kind of man Gunner was. Finally, she gave a small nod. “Deal.”
But even as the word left her lips, he could see the worry flickering behind her eyes. And that only made him more certain that this wouldn’t be over until Jesse was handled for good.
Gunner forced himself to push Jesse out of his mind as Dawn led him into her apartment. He didn’t want that bastard ruining their night. Not when Dawn had gone out of her way to make things special. The scent of something warm and savory filled the space, wrapping around him like an invitation to stay.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said over her shoulder, heading into the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”
He watched her move, captivated by the natural sway of her hips, the way her hair slipped over her shoulder when she turned to check on whatever she had cooking.
Gunner had been with women before, plenty of them, but there was something different about Dawn. The way she pulled him in without even trying. The way he wanted to stay, not just tonight, but longer.
Shaking off the thought, he settled on a stool at the kitchen island, watching as she stirred something in a pot. “Didn’t take you for the cooking type.”
She glanced at him, smirking. “You don’t know everything about me yet.”
Yet. That word settled deep in his chest, warming something inside him. He liked the idea of learning more about her. About seeing all the sides of Dawn she didn’t show the world.
“Well,” he said, leaning his forearms on the counter, “color me impressed.”
She plated up their food—a rich, homemade pasta that had his stomach growling—and they sat at the small table, candles flickering between them.
It felt domestic in a way that should have made him uncomfortable. But it didn’t. Not even a little. They ate, talked, laughed. Dawn had a way of making even the simplest moments feel easy, like she wasn’t just tolerating his company but enjoying it. And damn, he enjoyed hers.
After dinner, they moved to the couch, her soft body pressing against his side as she curled up next to him. Some action movie played on the screen, but he barely paid attention. His focus was on Dawn—the way she smelled like something sweet and warm, the way her body felt so damn right tucked against his.
His arm rested along the back of the couch, his fingers grazing her shoulder lightly. Just enough to test the waters. When she didn’t move away, he let his fingers drift lower, tracing slow circles against her arm.
She shifted slightly, her breath hitching, and that was all the encouragement he needed. Gunner turned toward her, one hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her gaze met his, something uncertain but wanting lingering in her dark eyes.
“Dawn,” he murmured, his voice rougher than intended.
She swallowed, her lips parting, but she didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to. He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to stop him. When she didn’t, when she tilted her chin up just slightly, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to hers.
The kiss was slow, deliberate. Not rushed. He wanted to savor her, memorize the way she tasted, the way she melted into him.
Dawn curled her fingers into his shirt, tugging him closer, and he slid his hand to her waist, gripping her just enough to feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her top.
Heat flared between them, a slow burn threatening to turn into something wilder. He trailed his fingers down her spine, pulling her flush against him, and she let out a soft sound that had every muscle in his body tightening. But just as he was about to deepen the kiss, she pulled back, her breath shaky.
