She forced herself to look away, staring at the diner’s checkered floor, the hum of the neon sign outside a quiet distraction. But even then, she felt his presence, like a storm cloud on the horizon, waiting to roll in and change everything.
Thankfully, he must have sensed the shift in her, because after a moment, he leaned back in his seat, the tension between them easing just slightly.
“So,” he said, his voice lower, rougher, but still carrying that ever-present edge of amusement. “You always this deep after midnight, or is it just me?”
She let out a breath, shaking her head with a small, nervous laugh. “I think it’s just you.”
And damn if that wasn’t the truth.
****
Gunner had seen plentyof women home before. Hell, he’d walked out of too many beds, slipped away before dawn, leaving nothing but the scent of whiskey and leather behind. He never lingered. Never cared enough to. His club came first—always had, always would.
But as he pulled his bike to a stop in front of Dawn’s apartment, he didn’t feel that familiar detachment. Instead, he found himself gripping the handlebars tighter, reluctant to let the night end.
He swung his leg over his Harley, his boots heavy on the pavement as he followed Dawn to her door. She moved with an easy grace, but he didn’t miss the way she glanced back at him, her lips slightly parted, her expression unreadable.
Damn, she was something else. The kind of woman who didn’t fit into the world he lived. Too good for it. Too good for him. But he wanted her anyway.
He took his time as they reached her door, letting his gaze sweep over her. The glow of the corridor lights cast shadows along the curve of her jaw, the slope of her neck. Gunner itched to trace that path with his fingers, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.
“Well,” she said, turning to face him. “Thanks for the drink and seeing me safely home.”
He smirked, tilting his head. “You always this polite after a first date?”
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “This wasn’t a date.”
Gunner stepped closer, closing the small space between them. “Felt like one.”
She swallowed, and his eyes dropped to her throat, to the way her pulse fluttered.
The air between them thickened. Tension stretched, electric and heady. He could hear his own breathing, could feel the steady drum of his heart picking up pace.
Dawn’s gaze flickered to his mouth, and it was all the invitation he needed. He reached up, cupping her face with a gentleness he hadn’t known he was capable of. Her breath hitched, and for a brief second, he hesitated. But then she leaned in, and he was lost.
Gunner’s lips pressed against hers, firm and sure. She responded instantly, her hands gripping his jacket as she melted against him.
The kiss deepened, her mouth soft and eager beneath his, the heat of her sending a rush of something dark and possessive through him. Her body felt perfect against him, her breasts soft, and he wondered if he looked down, he could see her nipples hardening underneath her blouse.
He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected her to feel this damn good. But then she stilled, just slightly, her breath shaky as she pulled back.
Gunner forced himself to stop, resting his forehead against hers. He could feel the way her body trembled, not in fear, but in uncertainty. She wasn’t ready. And for once in his damn life, he cared enough to wait.
“Get some rest, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough.
She exhaled slowly, nodding as she stepped back, her fingers slipping from his jacket.
He let her go, let her disappear behind her door, even though every part of him wanted to stay.
As he walked back to his bike, his jaw clenched. He had no business wanting more from a woman like her. His world was violence and loyalty, asphalt and gunpowder.
But Dawn had slipped under his skin, and he had a feeling there was no shaking her loose.
****
The roar of Gunner’sHarley echoed in the night as he rode back to the clubhouse, the wind whipping against his face. The ride should have cleared his head, but it didn’t. His thoughts kept circling back to Dawn—her lips, her scent, the way she trembled just slightly when he kissed her. She wasn’t like the women he usually spent time with. She was soft in a way that unsettled him, made something deep in his chest twist.
He pulled into the lot outside the Iron Sentinels’ clubhouse, parking his bike beside a row of Harleys before stepping inside. The scent of booze, sweat, and cigarette smoke hit him instantly. A few members were already deep into their drinks, the bass-heavy music drowning out their voices. Sliding into his usual seat at a corner table, Gunner signaled the bartender for a whiskey.
