Hate Sober (Love Me Duet 2)

“Tell me you love me, Gunner Reid,” I say in a breathless whisper.

He leans closer, picking me up and sliding me over his lap as he lifts my chin to look him in the eyes. I’m sure my blue ones are swirling with emotion as his are dark and locked on mine.

“I’ve only loved one woman in my life, and she’s here right now. I could never love anyone as much as I love you, Everly. Of that fact I am sure.”

It takes two seconds for my lips to meet his.

Two minutes of constant touching for our clothes to be removed.

And exactly a minute after that, he’s sliding into me.

I know for sure I will never love a man as fiercely as I love Gunner Reid. So why fight the inevitable. He’s been trying, and I have to give him credit where credit’s due. Even if I thought at one stage he wasn’t worth it.

I was wrong.

His hand slides in my hair and he pushes it back as he hovers over me while stilling inside of me. “You are the most beautiful woman on this planet.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I joke on half a breath, while he bends down, his lips hovering over mine.

“Only one that counts.” Then he kisses me and starts to move again. I was afraid of having sex with him again. But I shouldn’t have been. He’s been trying. I know in the future his kinky ways may come out and I will have to deal with them.

Just not right now.

Not right now, and that’s all that matters in this moment.

My hands grip his shoulders as he spasms and a beautiful orgasm rips through my body. Gunner doesn’t stop until I can no longer move. Then he pulls out of me and slides down my body, paying special attention to my breasts before he gets to my stomach.

He kisses softly over the scars that mar me.

Those scars tell me I’m okay.

I am stronger than I anticipated.

I’ve got this.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his lips still kissing my scar.

I reach for his head, lifting it back up so he’s eye level with me again. “We can’t do this every time you see that scar.” My head nods to my stomach. “We can’t do this.”

He rolls his shoulders and stands. His cock becomes hard again as he looks down at me still laid out on his couch.

“I can’t be my asshole self. So, I’m trying not to be, and, frankly, with you, I don’t want to be. You don’t deserve it, for one. And two, I want you to have the best version of me. So that…” his eyes drop, “… is me showing you, and telling you, that I’m truly sorry. I won’t do it again. I just want you to know that I’m trying for you.” In one swift movement, he picks me up as if I weigh nothing.

“I’m not moving in.”

He laughs as he carries me. “You will.” He looks down at me. “In due time.”

32

Everly

He was right, of course.

Gunner Reid isn’t someone who’s ever wrong.

But I made him sweat for it. I made him court me for as long as I possibly could. And now, six months into our new relationship, I’m moving in with him. Into the house he bought for us.

I’m proud of the people we’ve come to be. He is still Gunner, there will never be any changing that. But now he also knows that I’m not the same woman who let him have my heart and my body for free.

Now the respect is there, which I think was lacking in the beginning.

He tells me every day he’s going to marry me—that this time it will be just us. I like the sound of that, better than our last wedding, which was for everyone else’s benefit and not ours.

Next time it will be simply us.

I introduce him as my ex-husband.

He grinds his teeth when I do it.

He will then introduce me as his booty call.

I clamp my hand around his, digging my nails in.

We have come to find our new happy medium.

I love it.

Just as I love him.

I stand back as I watch him carry my next box inside. He’s wearing a shirt that showcases all his muscle, and I want to jump his bones.

Though that will have to wait, we have moving to do.

“I can feel you watching my ass, Everly.”

Oh yes, and he still says my name as if it’s pure sex.

I usually want sex immediately after he says it. He drops a box and walks back out to me, grabbing the iced tea in my hand and taking a sip as he wipes his forehead. His gorgeous hair is tied back, and I feel so lucky I get to call this beautiful man mine.

“I hope our kids have your hair.” His hand freezes mid-air as he goes to hand me back the glass. “You want kids, right?”