Page 39 of Gunnar

Fuck, the sight of her.

I smear shaving cream over her skin and work the razor with careful strokes up her calves, then her thighs, before moving higher. Her breath comes faster, her chest rising and falling as I press the razor to the flesh above her pussy. She’s already well-groomed, neat and trim, but I want her bare. I want nothing between my mouth and her skin. I work slowly, meticulously, the razor gliding over her plump lips.

“You’re trembling,” I observe, not looking up from my task.

“I can’t help it,” she admits, her voice strained.

“Nervous?”

“Excited,” she corrects, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

I finish, rinsing away the last of the shaving cream before running my fingers over her skin to ensure she’s smooth. Fucking perfect. She’s slick and bare, and the sight makes my mouth water with the memory of how sweet she tasted last night. “Beautiful,” I whisper, leaning in to press a kiss to her inner thigh, just beside her pussy.

After turning off the water, I open the shower door and reach for a towel.

“Come here,” I command.

She steps out, and I wrap the towel around her, enveloping her completely. I wrap another around her hair before drying with the same thoroughness I used to wash her. I don’t miss an inch as I make my way from her face to her feet, lifting each to pat between her toes before wrapping the towel around her body.

She watches me with an expression I can’t quite read—wonder, or maybe confusion. “What?” I ask, unwrapping the towel from around her hair.

“You really are going to take care of everything, aren’t you?” she asks softly.

I meet her eyes. “Every single thing,” I confirm. “That’s what it means to be mine. I don’t do things halfway. I don’t share. I don’t neglect what’s mine. You wanted me unleashed—this is what you get. Sometimes gentle. Sometimes rough. But always everything from me.”

She swallows hard, nodding.

Grabbing another towel for myself, I quickly run it over my skin and hair, before leading her back to the bedroom. I pull open a drawer, retrieving a clean T-shirt that will be far too large for her. I hand it to her, then find a pair of my boxer-briefs, also clean and too big. “So you don’t have to walk back to your room in only a towel.”

She takes them, looking at the clothes, then at me. “You want me to wear your shirt and boxers?”

“I want you covered in my scent,” I correct. “I want you to feel me on your skin even when I’m not touching you.”

She dresses without argument, the shirt falling to mid-thigh and the boxers loose on her hips. She looks ridiculous. And perfect. Having dressed myself in jeans and a T-shirt, I walk with her to her room at the far end of the hall.

We stop at her door, and she looks up at me, suddenly uncertain. “Whatever that thought is dancing your head, let it go,” I gently insist before she can speak. Cupping her face, my thumbs stroke her cheekbones. “I’m not walking away this time.”

She nods, and I lean down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that’s deep and full of promise. I pour everything I can’t say into it, the absolute certainty that this is right, that she’s mine, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let her go.

“Go get dressed,” I kiss the words across her lips before fully pulling back. “Take your time. When you’re ready, come downstairs for breakfast.”

She blinks up at me, confused. “You’re not staying?”

I shake my head, running my thumb along her jaw one last time before forcing myself to step back. “I’m going to head down first. The guys are definitely all waiting.”

Understanding dawns in her eyes. “Gunnar, you don’t have to⁠—”

“I do,” I cut her off, a wry smile tugging at my mouth. “Jagger’s going to have a field day. I’d rather face the firing squad alone and let him get all his shitty jokes out of his system before you walk into it.”

Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. “He is pretty relentless.”

“He’s fucking incorrigible,” I counter. “But while he’s a pain in my ass, he’s like my brother. That said, I’d still rather absorb whatever he’s got planned than have to kick the shit out of him for humiliating you.”

“I can handle it. I can handle them.”

“I know you can.” I mean every word. She’s strong and resilient, but this isn’t about her capability. It’s about protection, shielding her from the inevitable awkwardness. “But I’m going to insist.”

She studies me for a moment, then nods. “Okay. I’ll take my time.”