Gunner & Aria Book 1: Gunner
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Jeni Rae D
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18,0K
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54
Gunner lives for one thing: the vengeance that keeps his heart locked tight. But the night he crosses paths with Aria—a stunning woman wrapped in secrets—everything shifts. Their connection hits fast, hot, and deep, pulling them into a dance of discipline, desire, and danger. As Gunner pushes forward on his mission, Aria pushes back on the walls he’s built, revealing strength he didn’t expect and a fire he can’t resist. Together, they test limits and blur lines, discovering that the spark neither of them wants may be the one they need. And as heat turns into something harder to hide, both begin to wonder: what if the most dangerous fight… is falling for each other?
Chapter 1
ARIA
The arena lights strobed across the room while the announcer’s voice thundered through the speakers, announcing Gunner’s stats like it meant something to the people already screaming. Then the sound swelled again when he stepped out into the arena.
White smoke spilled around him from the tunnel, clinging to his shoulders as he moved forward. My chest tightened when he came into view.
His narrowed eyes, the set of his jaw, and the way he held himself like he was already in the fight instead of walking toward it sent an electrifying jolt through my stomach, like my body hadn’t decided whether this was excitement or a warning.
My nerves fluttered in my chest, and I swallowed them down. Each swallow sent a vise of pain twisting my throat. Again. And again.
Don’t Tread on Me blasted through the arena, reverberating in my chest and sharpening the crowd’s anticipation as the fighter headed toward the cage, his slow, lethal stride slicing through the chaos. Each step was measured and certain, and it set my heart racing.
He looked bigger than I’d imagined. Bigger, hotter, and far more dangerous than the photos I’d seen of him. Sweat slicked over his sculpted muscles as he moved under the lights, with his broad shoulders blocking out everything behind him.
His narrow waist and corded, veined arms looked strong enough to ruin someone. And his face was hard, sharp, and unapologetically masculine, radiating a quiet arrogance that commanded attention. I was so completely and utterly captivated by him that I couldn’t look away.
Then there were his abs. Damn. There should be a law against someone having abs like that.
But it was his strut more than anything that held my gaze. His steps were steady, controlled, and seemingly effortless. His shoulders remained loose, with his arms swinging idly at his sides, as if none of this mattered.
Like the noise, the crowd, the fight awaiting him… Like tonight’s fight was predetermined. Like he knew he was going to win.
I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. I wasn’t. I was fully alert, especially when Gunner stopped in front of us, his eyes meeting mine.
His gaze dragged over my face a little too intimately, and then he smirked. I swallowed, and heat traveled down my spine so fast I forgot to breathe. Was he smiling at me? Oh my… He was.
My knees weakened, and my heart thundered against my chest when I saw a smile still playing on his lips. I was about to nudge Justin to see if he noticed what I had, but then Gunner’s head turned to his right when a guy, his cornerman, approached his side, holding a water bottle toward his mouth.
Instead of allowing the cornerman to hydrate him, Gunner snatched the water bottle from his hand and squeezed a long stream of water through his lips, some of it splashing as it hit his tongue, and then he shoved the bottle back into the man’s chest when finished.
I leaned into Justin’s ear, asking, “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“He was eyeing me. And he was smiling at me.”
Justin laughed as his eyes shot to Gunner, watching him enter the octagonal fighting cage. “I’m sure it just seemed like he was. He was probably eyeing the crowd.”
His eyes returned to mine. “Fighters’ eyes are always on the move, always wanting to be aware of their surroundings.”
He shrugged. “Maybe he glanced at you. Maybe he didn’t. But smiling at you?”
He shook his head. “I doubt it… No offense,” he said, grinning.
Justin may have dismissed what I saw, but I knew what I saw. I didn’t imagine it. I knew what his dark eyes did to my body when they were on me.
Suddenly, the room got much louder. Gunner’s name was being shouted like a prayer and a threat woven together.
The loud roars and chants had me darting my eyes back to the cage to see what was happening. Inside, Gunner was moving around, throwing his arms in the air, getting everyone pumped and ready for the fight to begin.
He returned to our side of the cage. I hoped Justin was watching, because I swore Gunner’s eyes had lingered on me again.
Oh. My. God.
He was. There was a playful smirk resting on his lips.
I swallowed, debating whether I should return the smile. Suddenly, I was aware that my skin felt too tight for my body when he rolled his shoulders and extended his fist toward me and winked, thumping his chest before facing his opponent.
For a moment, I thought I was at a monster truck rally when his opponent’s name was announced. The Crusher?
I watched intently. My nerves jangled as anticipation rose while the ref checked their gloves and spoke to the fighters.
Justin leaned into my ear, letting me know he was explaining the rules to the fighters. When the ref stepped back and the bell rang, my heart instantly climbed into my throat.
I clutched my hands to my chest, my breath catching as they circled the mat. Their fists were raised; their bodies looked tense; and their eyes were locked on each other, gauging who’d be the one to strike first.
Loud roars echoed in my ears, and my eyes widened when The Crusher’s fist, an upper right-handed hook, collided with Gunner’s chin, a brutal crack of fist against flesh. The entire room erupted with noise.
But I barely heard it over the blood rushing in my ears. Wow… Gunner took the shot to the jaw like it was an insult and returned by firing two quick fists into The Crusher’s face.
My heart beat with anticipation as they continued dancing around the mat, swinging their fists and kicking their legs at one another. The Crusher lunged at Gunner, and he swayed to the side, avoiding the incoming fist, then he twirled around, his leg midair, and kicked The Crusher’s face.
The crowd went wild. Justin was pounding the railing, shouting Gunner’s name along with the crowd. I was completely on the edge of my seat.
I should’ve looked away when blood appeared. But I didn’t. Strangely enough, I couldn’t look away.
Then the crowd’s roar got louder when Gunner pinned The Crusher against the cage. His forearm was pressed to The Crusher’s neck, causing the knots in my stomach to intensify as he fought back.
Finally, The Crusher broke free. They shifted side to side, advancing and retreating, trading kicks and punches. Then Gunner attacked, drawing blood from The Crusher’s lips with a sharp left uppercut to his already battered, swollen face.
“Kill the guy!” my brother yelled. “Come on, Gunner! Kill the fucker!”
“Gunner! Gunner! Gunner!” the crowd repeatedly chanted, the chants carrying through the air even louder when he pinned The Crusher to the mat.
Something hot and electric coursed through me. Gunner’s flexing muscles were admirable, but the colorful ink on his skin elevated his sex appeal much more. Something I never thought I’d find attractive in a man. Yet here I was, lusting over it.
I thought the match was over, but then, suddenly, The Crusher was back on his feet, not ready to tap out just yet. I leaned to Justin’s ear, shouting, “How much longer until the fight is over?”
“They’re on their third and final round. But by the looks of it, I don’t think The Crusher will make it another five minutes.”
Justin was right. Moments later, The Crusher finally faltered with blood pooling around his eyes, appearing to blind his vision.
My hand flew to my mouth when Gunner pounced with a savage combination, delivering the final blow and sending him crashing to the mat, the mat shaking beneath him from the impact.
After a moment’s struggle, with his face buried in the mat, The Crusher slammed his fist in defeat, yielding the fight. Gunner won.
The arena erupted around us in a deafening roar. The cheers grew much louder when the referee held up Gunner’s arm, announcing him as the winner. I felt suddenly small when his eyes swept over a sea of people and landed on mine. He winked, and my pulse tripped.
Justin grabbed my shoulders and excitedly shouted, “That was awesome, wasn’t it?!”
I was too shocked to answer. Gunner left the cage a few moments later, walking along the barricade while fans reached over the rail, desperate to touch him and congratulate him, fist-bumping each one as he passed by.
Justin, desperate for Gunner’s attention, leaned over the railing, waving both arms and yelling, “Gunner! Gunner!”
I should’ve stepped back. I should’ve sat. Instead, I froze when he looked our way, and his eyes landed on me, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly upward.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Not when, instead of fist-bumping the men reaching for him or stopping to talk with the drunk girls screaming his name, he continued eyeing me as he came straight toward me.
My heart hammered against my chest as he neared us. I felt the heat of his gaze, and it weakened my knees. Then he stopped directly in front of us. One hand on the railing, sweat slick on his flesh, and his chest rising and falling with each breath.
Up close, he was more devastatingly handsome. Even with his cauliflower ears, split lower lip, and reddened cheekbones. That actually made him even hotter.
Justin, who was standing before us, beamed. “That was one hell of a fight, man!”
Gunner briefly eyed Justin and said, “Thanks.” Then everything went still when Gunner looked at me and asked, “Did you enjoy it?”
“Hell yeah, we did!” Justin shouted before I could respond.
Without taking his eyes off me, he said, “I was asking if your girl enjoyed the fight.” His voice sounded rough from the fight, low, and raw, and the sound of it did some reckless things to my insides.
Heat flooded my face, and I cleared my throat, stuttering, “I…it was intense.”
The corner of his lip curled upward, humored by my response. “Intense,” he repeated.
Lakesha, my friend on my other side, choked, laughing at something I didn’t catch until Justin said, “She’s my sister.”
Gunner’s brows lifted. “Your sister.” A slow, sinful grin stretched along his face. “Even better.”
I forgot how to breathe. Completely. Utterly. Forgot.
“Believe it or not, this is the first time my sister’s been to a fight.”
Gunner snorted, and the sound of his laugh rolled over my skin like heat. “First fight?” he asked me.
I nodded.
“Thought so,” he said, looking entirely too pleased.
“Why?”
“Because, during the fight, I happened to notice you looking at me like you couldn’t decide whether to be horrified or impressed at what you were witnessing.”
I crossed my arms before my body betrayed me. “Maybe I still can’t.”
“Good.” He straightened…barely. “Means I made an impression.”
A man called his name from somewhere behind him. Gunner didn’t react or turn toward him.
My pulse fluttered harder. He was still looking at me. Still choosing me over everything happening around us.
The guy called his name again. More urgently this time.
Finally, Gunner pushed off the railing. For a second, I thought that was it. That he’d leave with that smug grin and those impossible eyes, and I’d spend the rest of the night wondering what had just happened.
Then he leaned in, close enough that only I could hear him. “Don’t leave.”
Every inch of me locked up. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, then lifted to my eyes.
“I want another minute with you when I’m done.”
And then he was gone. Swallowed by noise and lights, the chaos and chanting fans.
I stood there staring after him like my soul had body slammed onto the mat. Beside me, Justin slowly turned his head.
“Well,” he said.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even move. All I could feel was the ghost of Gunner’s voice against my skin and the wild certainty that if I stayed, nothing about tonight was going to end the way I thought it would.
