Page 29 of The Rebel with Broken Strings
“Like what?” Aubrey prompted, her heart thundering in her chest.
“Like fate,” he said. “Like the universe is giving us a second chance.”
Aubrey’s heart skipped a beat. She wanted to believe him, but the memory of waking up alone in that Atlanta hotel room still stung. “Gunner, I—” she began.
He rose and he came to sit close to her. “I know I hurt you,” he interrupted, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. But I swear to you, I’m not the same man I was back then. I want to earn your trust back.”
His words hung in the air between them, heavy with promise and possibility. Aubrey found herself torn between the urge to guard her heart and the desire to let him in.
Her breath caught in her throat as he sat mere inches from her, the heat radiating off his body wrapping around her like a warm embrace. Her mind reeled, memories of their night in Atlanta flooding back with startling clarity—the taste of whiskey on his lips, the feel of his calloused hands on her skin, the way he’d made her feel more alive than she had in years.
She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I tried so hard to forget.”
His eyes bored into hers, filled with an intensity that made heat spiral through her. “Darlin’, some things are too powerful to forget.”
Her gaze dropped to his lips, full and inviting. Her heart thundered in her chest with longing and trepidation. She knew she should turn away, maintain the walls she’d so carefully constructed. But the magnetic pull between them was undeniable, and she couldn’t hate him for why he walked away.
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. His gaze searched hers, an ocean of longing and something deeper, a need for acknowledgment. “I’ll give you the kiss your eyes are begging me for,” he whispered, his voice husky with restrained desire. “But I need to hear you say it, Aubrey.”
She swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Say what?”
His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing her lower lip. “I need you to say that night in Atlanta… It was you. What we had, what we felt, it was real.”
Aubrey closed her eyes, memories of that night in Atlanta washing over her. The heat of his touch, the electricity of their connection, it had been undeniable then, just as it was now. She opened her eyes, finding Gunner’s face mere inches from hers, patient and expectant.
“It was me,” she admitted, her words barely audible. “And it was real. God help me, it was real.”
His eyes widened, relief and desire darkening their depths. “Aubrey,” he breathed her name on his lips.
In an instant, the space between them vanished. Gunner’s mouth claimed hers, urgent and tender all at once. She melted into the kiss, her hands grabbing the soft fabric of his shirt. The taste of him—woodsy and something uniquely Gunner—overwhelmed her senses.
Their lips moved in a dance of rediscovery, each stroke of tongue and gentle nip rekindling the fire that had smoldered between them so long ago.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” Gunner murmured against her lips, his hands framing her face. “About you.”
Aubrey pulled back slightly, her breath coming in short gasps. “Gunner, I, we can’t just…”
He silenced her with another kiss, softer this time. “We can be whatever we want to be. No more runnin’.”
She searched his face, finding sincerity etched in every line. “I’m not the same person I was that night,” she whispered, vulnerability lacing her words.
Gunner’s thumb traced her cheekbone. “Neither am I. But this—us—it’s still here. Can’t you feel it?”
Aubrey nodded, unable to deny the electric current humming between them. She leaned in, initiating the kiss this time, pouring the longing she’d felt into the connection. As Gunner’s arms encircled her, drawing her closer, she allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, they could heal each other’s wounds.
His fingers trailed down Aubrey’s neck, tracing her collarbone before settling on the top button of her blouse. His eyes, dark with desire, searched hers for permission.
“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice husky.
Aubrey’s heart raced. “Yes,” she breathed, surprised by the steadiness in her own voice.
With deliberate care, Gunner unfastened the first button, pressing a soft kiss to the newly exposed skin. Aubrey shivered, her nerves singing at his touch.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her throat as he worked on the next button.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as each piece of clothing fell away. His kisses mapped a trail of fire across her skin, from the curve of her shoulder to the valley between her breasts.
“Gunner,” she gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations he was evoking.
