Just us.
Just this overwhelming, dizzying, blissful feeling that I didn’t even know I was allowed to have again.
“Come on, Mrs. Gunner,” he growls against my lips, his voice rough and a little breathless, like he’s barely holding it together. “We gotta get outta here.”
Mrs. Gunner.
My heart stutters.
My cheeks ache from smiling.
“Where to, Mr. Gunner?” I tease, even though my voice is shaky and soft and full of something I don’t even try to hide.
His eyes flash.
Possessive.
Certain.
“Stargazer Hotel,” he says. “We’ve got a suite waiting.”
I gasp.
Actually gasp.
Because I know that place.
Everyone knows that place.
It’s not just fancy—it’s ridiculous.
Luxury on top of luxury, the kind of place influencers drool over and millionaires treat like a casual stopover.
“Benji,” I breathe, my fingers tightening around his hand. “That place is?—”
“Expensive?” he cuts in, smirking just a little.
“Yeah!”
“Shh.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead this time. “Don’t worry about that, Sweetheart. Not anymore.”
My chest tightens again, but this time it’s not pain.
It’s something else.
Something warm.
Safe.
“The ranch is doing good,” he continues. “I did good overseas. We got money, Baby. Plenty of it.”
My throat goes thick.
“I have some too,” I say softly, because I do.
Because I built something, too.
And I know I’m not that girl anymore—the one with nothing but a broken heart and a van—but I lifted myself up when I had to and I’m proud of it.
