Heat curled low in her belly. She licked her lips, watching the way his gaze darkened as he followed the movement.
God, she was in trouble.
Somewhere between the teasing, the drinks, and the way he leaned in just slightly when she spoke, Dawn found herself forgetting all about her no-show date.
Gunner was unlike any man she’d ever met—confident without arrogance, playful but firm. And he made her feel ... interesting, wanted.
When he finally set his empty glass down, he tilted his head at her. “Place like this ain’t exactly the best for conversation. What do you say we go somewhere quieter?”
Her heart skipped. The suggestion carried weight, possibility. Her mind screamed at her to be careful, but her body had already decided.
“There’s a diner not far from here,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Good coffee, half-decent pie.”
Gunner nodded, clearly amused. “Sounds perfect.”
They left the bar together, the cool night air rushing over her heated skin. She gave him the name of the diner, then climbed into her car as he swung a leg over his Harley.
The rumble of his bike sent a thrill through her as she followed behind him, watching the way he handled the machine with ease, like it was an extension of himself.
By the time they pulled into the diner’s nearly empty parking lot, she was buzzing, not just from the whiskey, but from the anticipation curling in her stomach.
Inside, they slid into a booth, the warm scent of coffee and fried food wrapping around them. The atmosphere was relaxed, and with Gunner across from her, the conversation flowed more easily than she expected. She found herself telling him things she hadn’t planned to, about how she was juggling two jobs just to make ends meet. About how her dad had died from cancer last year, and she was still drowning in the hospital bills.
Gunner listened, his expression unreadable but his focus unwavering. And when she finally stopped, feeling exposed in a way she hadn’t before, he surprised her by saying, “I know what that’s like.”
Her brows pulled together. “You do?”
He nodded, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Lost my old man a few years back. He was in the MC, like me. Got caught in a shoot-out with a rival club.”
She inhaled sharply. “Jesus.”
He shrugged, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. “It’s the life. Doesn’t make it easier, though.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something had shifted between them, an understanding settling in the air.
She studied him, taking in the rough edges—the tattoos peeking from beneath his shirtsleeves, the slight scars on his knuckles. He was the kind of man she had always told herself to stay away from. But here, in the soft glow of the diner, he didn’t feel dangerous. He felt solid. Real. And she liked it. Liked him.
“You ever think about getting out?” Dawn asked quietly, tracing the rim of her coffee cup with her finger. “Leaving the MC?”
Gunner smirked, but there was something unreadable in his gaze, something that told her this wasn’t the first time someone had asked him that question.
“Nah. It’s in my blood.” He tilted his head slightly, watching her. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want more, though.”
“More?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a wave of heat through her.
“Yeah. More.”
The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t just the word itself, but the weight behind it—the unspoken promise, the hunger laced within it.
And for some reason, Dawn pictured herself riding behind him on that massive motorcycle, arms locked around his waist, the roar of the engine drowning out everything else. The image was so vivid it nearly stole her breath.
Dawn clenched her fingers around her cup as she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the rush of something dangerously close to longing. She barely knew this man.
He was a biker, part of a world she didn’t belong to, a world that had danger and chaos written all over it. And yet, something about him made her feel seen, grounded, like if she leaned just a little closer, she might understand him in a way no one else did.
Gunner flicked his gaze down to her hands. A slow smirk curled at his lips, but it wasn’t teasing—it was knowing. Like he could read every thought running through her mind. Damn him.
