Chapter Nine
Malcolm
“But how are you going to know which house is empty?” I asked. “Are there alarms we have to worry about? Maybe some of these places have dogs guarding them.”
Gunner was leading us up the mountain, the flashlight from his phone illuminating the way. My stomach was knotted tight, and I wished I could have kept my mouth shut and not seemed like such a worrywart, but the whole trip was so out of my comfort zone, my mouth kept running anyway.
“It’s chill,” he said. “Trust me.”
And the wild thing was… I did trust him. I hadn’t fooled myself totally into thinking he was a stable guy or something. I saw his impulsive and self-destructive qualities, and I knew he was walking a dangerous line with his life. Hell, anyone who took you breaking and entering on a date has to be a little unpredictable. But he was just so damn confident and so sure of himself. Whatever fantasies Gunner was spinning, I wanted to buy into them.
It helped that those fantasies seemed to feature me. He wanted me, and he wasn’t at all shy about showing it. No one had ever treated me that way before, and the more I got the impression he was willing to put his neck on the line to impress me, the more I wanted to give myself over to him.
“This one looks good,” he said, gesturing to a driveway that curved off the main road. The house was obscured by tall trees, but even with clouds filling the sky, the moon cast enough light that I could see the shape of the home.
I frowned and instinctively grabbed Gunner’s arm out of nervousness. “Promise me that I’ll make it home safe?”
He looked up at the sky, another cloud passing over the moon. “As long as this storm doesn’t come in and get us,” he teased. “But if I have to towel you off and warm you up, I’ll do it.”
When we got to the house, I stopped in my tracks, taken aback by how gorgeous it was. It was big, but not too big, with giant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the wraparound porch and a stunning view of the mountains stretched out behind. There were weird metal objects scattered on the lawn and big flat rocks poking out of the earth. A second floor rose up with a steep gable roof, and the wooden siding was worn gray.
“See?” Gunner said, throwing his arm over my shoulder. “Didn’t I say I’d take you on a nice adventure?”
He started walking toward the porch. My feet froze to the ground for a minute, but when I scolded myself to stop acting like such a scaredy-cat, I managed to actually follow him.
Gunner crept his way around the porch, peering through the windows like a cat burglar as I stood off to the side. After a minute or two, he hitched himself up on a flowerbox and pushed one of the side windows open. “Easy,” he said, turning to glance at me over his shoulder. “Just wait here.”
Watching him hop inside the house and strut around for a minute, my guts clenched. I fully expected an alarm to start screaming or a Rottweiler to emerge from the shadows. In no time, however, he pushed the front door open, leaning in the doorway with the familiar grin.
“You going to come in or what?”
I groaned. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
He held out his hand. “I can.”
The interior was just as striking as the outside. Composed of one giant, open space, it was almost rustic, with a big stone fireplace and wooden steps that lead up to the second floor. The kitchen took up a nook in the corner with appliances that looked pricey, even if they were a little old. There was a guitar posted up in one corner, a few worn leather couches, and a stereo system that looked expensive.
“Who lives here?” I wondered out loud.
Gunner shrugged, then removed his leather jacket and tossed it on the kitchen counter. “Some rich asshole from Seattle who fancies himself a badass, probably. You know how rich people like to pretend they’re something special.”
I thought about my family and how serious they acted about every little detail of our lives. “That’s true,” I agreed.
Gunner walked over to the fridge, rummaging around until he pulled out a couple of beers. “This thing is unplugged, and the bottles are warm. You want a drink anyway?”
I shook my head quickly. It was one thing to break into the place, but I didn’t know that I was comfortable stealing, too. “I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, twisting the top off and taking a drink. After a second, he pulled out his cigarettes, too, lighting one inside.
I opened my mouth to object but realized it was probably useless. “So what now?”
Gunner grinned, leaning back on the counter. “Come on, Malcolm. You’re a smart guy. What do you think is next?”
I had a lot of ideas, actually, fantasies that had been brewing the entire trip. Most of them started with me on my knees in front of Gunner or with Gunner bossing me around and teasing me, but there was no way in hell I was going to share any of those. Even when I got a little intimate with guys I dated, I kept my more submissive desires hidden, sticking to vanilla fun. “Maybe we can relax on the porch?” I said weakly. “There’s a hammock.”
Gunner studied me up and down, then licked his lips. “How about a little game instead?”
“What game?”
