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“Now, open your mouth, Ryan.” I reached up and grabbed her jaw. My dick twitched at the heat in her eyes as I held her mouth open.

Fuck. The things I could do to this woman.

I brought the tequila bottle up to her lips and poured a shot in. Never breaking eye contact as I slid my hand down to her throat.

“Swallow, Ryan.” My voice was thick with lust, and I caught the squirm she did in her chair.

I felt her throat contract, and the desire for her to swallow something else hit me with full force. For the second time that night, I leaned forward and licked her lips before pulling back and standing up.

This woman was going to wreck me.

Ryan

I was definitely tipsy.

It was hard not to want to join in on the festivities of fight night, and everyone kept bringing me drinks in congratulations of the win. I didn’t bother telling them that the fight was a cakewalk compared to some of the ones I had been in for Los Muertos. Torque was a good sport about the ass beating I had given him, and to his credit, he did land a good punch to my face. My tongue prodded the busted lip he’d left me, and I would have gnarly bruises from his leg kicks. He asked me if I could teach him some grappling. But my handler growled no at him before I could respond. That landed Gunner an elbow to the ribs.

My mind wandered to the sexy as sin biker lording over me. He had the fucking audacity to pour me a shot of my favorite tequila while looking like a wet dream. I thought I would die of horniness when he gave it to me while kneeling between my legs with his hand on my throat.

His moods were giving me whiplash. When I arrived at the party, Gunner had looked like he wanted to throw me back into my car and demand I leave. I thought it was because he didn’t like me or want to work with me on the arms deal. But with the way the man was fussing over me, it almost felt like he was concerned. I was still trying to wrap my head around that being the case. Sure, I knew he thought I was hot and would probably fuck me if I asked him to, but he was acting like he genuinely cared.

This kind of thinking needed to be drowned out with more alcohol.

My hand wrapped around the drink on the table.

“There’s no way I’m letting you have another drink, Ryan.” Gunner’s voice cut through the turmoil of my thoughts.

I frowned at the large tattooed hand that appeared on the neck of my beer bottle. Looking up, I was met with Gunner’s grumpy face as he pulled the drink out of my hand. My eyes rolled so hard I was sure they would get stuck. This man thought he was my keeper, and that shit would need to stop right away.

“Escucha güerito, I run a strip club and work for the cartel. I can have a drink or two if I want. Fuck, I can have a whole case by myself,” I snapped.

At some point during my rant, Gunner had moved in closer, his body now caging me in. One arm on the back of my chair, and the other on the tabletop. The hair of his mustache brushed against my ear as he spoke, so only I could hear him. He was making my teeth grind at the sensation. I didn’t want the feeling to turn me on, but I was powerless to stop wondering how his mustache would feel between my thighs.

“Ryan, unless you plan on sleeping in my bed tonight, I suggest you work on sobering up so I can take you back home.” His words snapped me out of my daydream, and I turned in my seat to look at him. Gunner’s sober gaze met mine.

“Why would I be sleeping in your bed, Gunner? I’m sure I could sleep on a couch or floor…or someone else’s room.” His nostrils flared with anger at the last part of my statement. Our faces were still so close together that I could smell the mintiness of his gum on his breath when he spoke.

“Brujita, if you are ever staying over at the clubhouse, you won’t be sleeping anywhere other than my bed,” he growled out at me, sending heat pooling between my thighs.

No. Nope, calm down, chica.

Before I could compose myself enough to respond, Gunner shoved a water into my hand and walked away.

“Close your mouth, Ryan. Gunner may take that as an invitation to put something in it.” Dex taunted.

I snapped my mouth close before flipping him off. Of course Dex had been watching that whole conversation go down. I should have known since those two were like two peas in a pod.

“Are you sure it’s not your mouth that he likes to shove things into?” I hissed. “You two are always together.”

Dex just snickered while wagging his eyebrows and walked away, not bothering to respond. It wasn’t really fair of me to lash out at Dex, but Gunner seemed to disarm me in a way I didn’t understand, and that pissed me off.

Usually, when men gave me orders or spoke to me the way Gunner did, I stabbed them. But with Gunner, it never felt disrespectful. I didn’t know why he could give me directions, and it didn’t make the hair on the back of my neck stand up like a cornered animal or send me into a murderous rage. The rage Gunner stirred up in me made me want to be thrown onto a bed and fucked—by Gunner.

Before I could psychoanalyze any more, my phone chirped with a text. The hair on the back of my neck did stand on end the moment I read the messages.

Mario: Are you having fun tonight, Muñeca?

Mario: I heard you fought well for me. Make sure you represent me well.