It’s sad, really, that my heart wreaks havoc for a man who is a hurricane. He drinks like a sailor and shuts everyone out. He’s beautiful and cold on the inside—kind of like a sculpture.

“What kind of panties are you wearing?”

He tugs on the end of my nightgown, and I break out in goosebumps. “Cheekini. Purple with white polka dots.”

Did I just flirt with Gunner? What the heck. He probably isn’t going to remember anything.

“The world must be coming to an end if Gia Gallagher is flirting with me.”

I should send him to his room, but he’s funny when he’s drunk.

“Show me your panties.” He slurs his words again.

“How much alcohol have you had?”

“A bottle of tequila.” He continues to tug on the hem of my nightgown, watching me with a blazing fire in his eyes.

Should I let him see?

I shouldn’t be entertaining the thought of letting Gunner see me in my panties. It’s inappropriate. Well, everything about our relationship is inappropriate.

As butterflies dance in my stomach I stand from the couch and move between his legs. Breathing deeply, I watch as his eyes grow intense as they slowly trail up to my thighs while I pull up my nightgown just to my waist so he won’t see the battle scars on my lower stomach. The cool air tickles my butt cheeks and I bite my bottom lip.

Does he like what he sees?

I don’t have a body like a model or stripper. I’m skinny with small breasts I can cup in my hands. My body is ugly.

Oh, no, he’s too quiet. He must not like what he sees.

“Turn around,” he orders, and my heart leaps in my chest as I do what he says. “You have a nice ass. I want to fuck and lick it.”

My body tenses as I feel his warm hand on my hip. His touch burns my skin. There’s no denying my body aches for him.

“Did you know orgasms lower the risk of a stroke and heart disease?” I blurt out.

I cover my mouth with my hand. Just shut up, Gia. Stop talking. If I keep this up, I’m going to die of embarrassment.

“Why are you nervous?” His hot breath tickles my butt cheeks.

“I-I don’t know.” The words come out breathless. His touch makes me feel like I’ve been deprived of intimacy.

Nine years of no sex is a long time.

“Good nervous or bad nervous?” His plump lips touch my left butt cheek and heat rushes to my sex.

“Good nervous.” I close my eyes and imagine what would happen if I let him do all the dirty things to me I fantasize about at night. The women in college used to rave about how good he is in the sheets, and how he screws like a god.