Текст книги "Spike "

Автор книги: Amity Cross

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Three

Ren

Walking in the front door of Beat, I breathed in the familiar scent of leather.

The boxing studio sat down a tiny lane that ran off Sydney Road, the main drag that ran through the inner city suburb of Brunswick. It was a vibrant area full of different cultures and a smattering of hipster overflow from the neighboring arty areas of Carlton and Fitzroy.

I’d lived out of the upstairs room for almost three years. It sounded totally weird, but I didn’t mind it in the slightest. I wasn’t the kind of girl who got attached to things or dreamed of a big house with all the trimmings. Money was nice and all, but it didn’t afford me the things I really wanted in life, which was love. Ash never had to build me a fancy apartment over his gym to give me what I needed. As long as I had him, then I had everything.

In a way, Beat was my home, and moving in with Ash was the end of a short-lived but packed full of milestones era.

Spotting my dad standing across the studio by the ring, I moved inside and closed the door behind me. He was with a younger man who was tall and lean with well-defined muscles on his arms and a head of choppy blond hair. It must be the guy who Dad had hired to take care of the place. Moving closer, I wondered if the guy was a fighter, but he sure didn’t look the part in a collared shirt and dress pants.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, walking up behind the two men.

They turned at the sound of my voice, and Dad wound his arm around my neck. “Hey, Ren.”

The other man gave me the once over and cocked an eyebrow. Obviously, he liked what he saw, and he wasn’t so bad himself. He had eyes that were supposed to be blue, but in the light of the studio, they were a steely gray. His jaw was dusted with a healthy dose of stubble that would make most guys look unkempt, but it just added to his swagger, which I could see he had a lot of already.

“This is Caleb Carmichael,” Dad said, giving the introduction before I could ask.

I didn’t know much about the world of boxing, but I did recognize the name Carmichael and it made up for the fact he didn’t seem as fit as the fighters I hung around. Boxers did lean like nothing else.

“I can see that look in her eyes,” Caleb said to my Dad.

“She’s just star-struck is all.”

“She’s standing right here.” It had overtures of the first day Ash had come back to Beat, and I was pretty sure I’d said the same thing. The difference was I was in a much better headspace these days. “And she’s not struck by anything.”

“She’s feisty, too,” Dad said with a chuckle.

“I’m not into bullshit,” I said, sticking out my hand. “Ren Miller.”

“Ren ‘One-Shot’ Miller,” Caleb said, taking my hand with a grin. “You have a mean right hook. Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of that my first day.”

“Ah, so you’re the new manager,” I retorted, snatching my hand back. I’d had my fill of cocky men swooping into Beat, but I’d learned pretty quick smart that cocky came with the fighter territory, no matter the code.

“A boxing studio needs a boxer at the helm,” he replied.

“Going back to basics, Dad?” I asked, giving him a look.

“Just rounding out the experience,” he retorted, dropping his arm from my shoulders. “Them there are boxing gloves painted on the door.”

“Maybe we can teach each other some things,” Caleb declared, eyeing me with appreciation. “Different codes and all.”

“Where’d you find this one?” I asked Dad, ignoring Caleb’s cocky question. Like I said, I didn’t do bullshit and since fighting was such a boys club, I especially didn’t do it on principle.

“I go way back with Caleb’s father,” Dad said, clapping him on the shoulder. “We were rivals back in the day.”

“I’ll say,” Caleb declared.

At one time, my dad, Andrew Miller, had been right up there with the Australian boxing greats, which was something I’d never known about the guy until I came looking after Mum had died. After he’d retired from fighting, he’d opened Beat. It began its existence as a boxing studio, but with the rise of mixed martial arts in the professional circuits, it had morphed into an all-round fighter gym. Boxing had been lacking in recent years with his move to coaching the Hayes twins, Lincoln and Dean, who were pros in the Australian Ultimate Fighting Championships.

“We had our moments,” Dad replied before glancing at me. “I’ve only got a few hours before I have to go meet with the sponsors, so can I leave you guys to it?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll show the newbie the ropes.”

“Great. I’ll call you later to see how you’re getting on.” He turned to Caleb, and the two men shook hands. “Thanks again, son. I’m sure we’ll see great things from you here.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

I waited for Dad to move off and disappear out the front door before I turned to Caleb.

“So, I hear you crash here,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow, but I didn’t bite. “I’ll show you the office.”

He bowed his head slightly. “Lead the way, One-Shot.”

Stalking across the mats, I stomped up the stairs with Caleb on my tail. Opening the office door, I pulled up a chair at the desk, ready to run him through the day-to-day running of Beat, but not before I worked him out a little more. All I knew about the guy was that he used to be a pro boxer, our dads were old mates and he was one self-assured son of a bitch.

I watched Caleb do the rounds, poking through paperwork and peering at the framed photos on the wall before he leaned against the wall next to me.

“The dress code is loose here,” I said, giving him the once over.

“You don’t approve of guys looking good?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s just weird. I’m used to being around trainers who wear little else but shorts and T-shirts.”

“Well, at least you’re not a prude.”

I raised an eyebrow at his tone. “I’m also taken.”

Caleb held up his hands in mock defense. “Duly noted.” He craned his neck and nodded at my back. “Pulse Fitness? Isn’t that the guy who ditched the AUFC last year?”

I snorted. “That guy is Ash Fuller and the boyfriend.”

He shook his head with a smile. “Just let me keep digging my hole here, Ren.”

“People are quick to judge when you turn down a multi-million dollar contract to go out on your own.”

“I know what you mean. No need to explain it to me.”

Leaning back in my chair, I asked, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow and I could see he was going to be trouble. He had smooth operator written all over him.

“I figured you’d ask sooner or later why I’m taking a job here when I could be doing pretty much anything.”

“None of my business,” I retorted.

“People always make a big deal, you know? Treading around the subject, giving me looks like I’m gunna break.”

I looked him up and down and began to wonder if he actually liked the attention it gave him. I mean, he was harping on about it.

“Do you want the long story or the short?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

“Short’ll do it if you feel the need to get it out of your system.”

He laughed and said, “I won a few belts boxing with the big boys, got the stuffing knocked outta me one too many times, and now I can’t fight. If I do, I risk never getting up on my own two feet again.”

“Fair enough,” I said with a shrug. He didn’t want me to make a big deal, so I wouldn’t make one.

“That’s it?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep,” I said, popping the ‘p’ at the end. Fighters got injured all the time. Some more than others, and it just so happened that Caleb was in the more category. It wasn’t my business to pry into touchy subjects like a man’s pride.

“I think I like you already,” he said with a wink.

“I told you how I do it,” I said. “No. Bullshit.”

“Then we’re going to get along just great.”

I looked him over again. Not in a checking out ‘how hot he was’ kinda perusal, more like a ‘how’s his form’ way.

“Boxing, hey?” I asked.

His lip quirked. “Interested?”

“Slightly.”

“I’ll run you through some techniques sometime. I mean, you MMA fighters are all undisciplined yahoos. You could use a little technique.”

“Are you forgetting I have a mean right hook?” I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Nup. But I’m sure I know how to duck and weave before you even get close.”

I raised my eyebrows for what felt like the millionth time in the last twenty minutes. “Oh, you’re on.”

Caleb smirked. “Like Donkey Kong.”

Four

Ash

I strode through rows of blackjack tables, trying to find a way out of the maze that was Melbourne’s Crown Casino.

Meeting a guy for an appointment in a sports bar smack bang in the middle of a gambling mecca wasn’t my idea of a casual get together. Nor was it my idea of a fancy business meeting, especially not when they were asking me to sign on the dotted line for some endorsement for Pulse. Those whack jobs thought fighters were all muscle and no brains. I didn’t give a shit how much money was attached to it, the guy treated me like I was a caveman, not a business owner, so I walked. I had no idea why I went in the first place. Maybe because it had a big name attached, and I was curious.

Shit, I couldn’t wait to get back to the gym where stuff was easy, and I didn’t have to contend with marketing types.

Leaving the gaming area of the casino, I found myself being a fish out of water as designer stores popped up around me. Fancy names with fancy price tags. Yet another thing I didn’t know shit about.

Coming to a stop out the front of an expensive looking jewelry store, I stared at the rings in the window display. Glancing up at the sign, I tried to pronounce the name in my head but got nothing. BVLGARI. Whatever that was.

But it was the ring in the center of the display that caught my attention. A silver band, with what looked like scales attached to one another and diamonds encrusted in each little circle, sat on a pedestal, and I instantly thought about Ren. She wasn’t interested in getting married, that much was obvious, but if I was going to buy her a ring, it’d be that one. She never wore any jewelry, and flashy wasn’t her thing, but this… It was simple, quirky and would look pretty fuckin’ nice on her finger.

I must’ve been standing there for ages because a woman through the window caught my eye. She was immaculately dressed with a name tag pinned onto her shirt and a wide smile was on her lips. This would usually be the moment I legged it because I hated being given the sales pitch, but curiosity drew me in.

After stepping into the store, I almost turned around and left entirely, but the woman came up to me with a smile, her gaze raking over me with unmasked appreciation.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” she said sweetly. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

“In the window,” I said. “The ring. Can I look at it?”

“Which one, Sir?”

“The silver one in the middle,” I said, pointing to the display.

She nodded and disappeared out the back someplace. Feeling like a useless lump in the middle of the posh store, I glanced around nervously like Ren would suddenly walk past and bust me, but I knew she was at Beat sorting out the new guy. She wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this anyway.

The sales woman returned and laid a piece of black material over the glass counter before placing the ring in the middle.

“It’s one of our classic wedding bands,” the woman said with a smile. “The Serpenti wedding band is 18kt white gold with pavé diamonds.”

“Pavé?” I asked, the word sounding alien on my tongue.

“Pavé is the type of setting,” she explained. “They’re made up of lots of small gemstones, often diamonds, set closely together.” Setting the ring onto the piece of black velvet, she gestured for me to pick it up. “As you can see, the ring itself is flexible. Each little scale moves to meld with the wearer’s finger.”

“Wedding band?” I held the ring in my palm and ran the tip of my finger along the surface.

“It’s intended as a wedding band, but it makes a fine engagement ring if you prefer something more simple than a classic diamond setting. Is it for your girlfriend?” she asked, watching me with dreamy eyes.

“Yeah.”

“She’s very lucky. That’s an amazing piece of jewelry.”

“How much?”

“Six thousand, seven hundred and ninety-nine dollars.”

I almost choked on my own spit at the dollar signs, but there was no way I would be a tight-ass when it came to marrying Ren Miller. She’d screwed up her nose at the mention of the m-word, and the thought had me doubting. Placing the ring back down onto the velvet, I shrugged.

“Would you like to look at another option?” the sales woman asked.

“No, it’s perfect…” I trailed off, not wanting to get into it with a stranger.

The lady smiled kindly at me before saying, “You’re not sure about asking her?”

“She said she’s not interested in getting married.” I glanced around the shop, but we were the only people in it.

“But you are?”

I nodded, not sure how Ren would take it if she knew I was out shopping for rings.

“We get a lot of men in here with the same jitters,” she said, glancing down at the ring.

“And what do you tell them?”

“We have a return policy,” she replied with a laugh.

“How many come back?”

She shrugged. “Maybe one out of twenty.”

Considering the price tag, I didn’t think that was a bad ratio. Spending that much money on something and not being sure about it had to be a risky investment.

Glancing down at the ring that seemed to embody the one and only woman I’d ever love, I said, “I’ll take it.”

**

When I got home, the gym was still pumping with an evening class, but upstairs, the apartment was dark. Ren was late coming back from Beat.

I assumed she was still tied up with showing the new guy the ropes, and it was just as well because I had a posh Bvlgari bag with a motherfuckin’ engagement ring inside that was impossible to hide.

Dropping my keys onto the side table just inside the door, I pulled the little square box out and held it in the palm of my hand.

What was I thinking?

My phone pinged with a message and I jumped, holding the box against my chest. Fuck. Opening the drawer on the side table, I shoved the ring inside, knowing she’d never think to look in there.

Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I glanced at the message on the screen.

Ren: I’m going to be another hour or so. I’m watching Caleb’s boxing class.

Caleb was the new guy, and since he’d started a couple of days ago, she hadn’t shut up about learning boxing techniques. I wondered when I should go meet him to make sure he knew not to get any ideas while training with my woman. It was how I managed to get in her pants after all, and if I could figure it out, then so could this Caleb dude.

Moving toward the kitchen, I opened the fridge and began thinking about what I was going to make for dinner.

How would I ask her? When would I ask? Would she be pissed? I didn’t even want to know what it’d do to me if she said no. Maybe I should wait, or maybe I should seize the fuckin’ day.

I had no idea what to do, and for the first time since we’d gotten together, I felt uneasiness creeping underneath my skin.

What if she said no?

Five

Ren

Caleb’s first class was actually pretty great.

I had to hand it to him, Dad had chosen my permanent replacement pretty well. Caleb was good with the guys, and the girls for obvious reasons, and had this leadership quality that stood out most when he was teaching a bunch of prepubescent teenagers the fundamentals of boxing. He was switched on, and I hadn’t had to explain myself more than once on anything so far. It made my job and transition a million times easier, that’s for sure.

Opening the front door to the apartment, I stepped inside to the noise of a fight on the TV, and my gaze instantly locked with Ash’s. He raised his hand and pressed the off button on the remote, and the room fell into silence.

“Hey,” I said, sinking down onto the couch.

Ash wrapped his arm around my shoulders and tugged me against his side. “You’re late.”

“Didn’t you get my text? I was watching Caleb teach his first class at Beat.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

I pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek. “Why are you so grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy,” he complained. “I just missed you.”

“Aww,” I exclaimed, running my hand over his tight stomach. “What do you want?”

He rolled his eyes, but he finished it off with a smile. “You here all the time.”

All the time meant working at Pulse and living in this posh new apartment at one of the most desirable addresses in all of Melbourne. Ash Fuller’s bed. Wait, scratch that—our bed.

“I’ll be full-time here by next week,” I said. “That guy’s a pro. Dad chose really well.”

“Who is this guy anyway?” he asked.

“Caleb Carmichael. He was a pro boxer,” I replied.

“Coach going back to his roots?”

“Yeah, well, Beat started out that way, and now they’ve got the whole experience.” Pulse was more of a mixed martial arts focused fighter gym, what with both of our expertise. There was nothing wrong with that considering the sharp rise in popularity the sport had gotten over the past few years.

“Don’t tell me you want to learn how to punch with those pansy ass gloves?” Ash said with a roll of his eyes.

I laughed at his tone, which was brimming with a man-sized temper tantrum. “I’d like to learn some new techniques, and those guys can move in a way MMA fighters can’t.”

“Yeah, they stand still and get punched in the face a lot,” Ash replied with a pout.

“Did you just pout?” I exclaimed.

“I’m too tough to pout.”

“C’mon.” I draped across him, winding my arms around his neck.

“I don’t like the idea of you training with him,” he said, leaning his forehead against mine.

“It’s not like that,” I complained.

“Training together was our thing.” He took a deep breath, his hands wrapping around my waist. “I don’t want to share you with some dopey boxer.”

“Dopey?”

“They get hit in the head too much.”

I sat back and gave him a look. “You do know why he can’t fight anymore, right?”

“Too many hits in the head.”

“Exactly,” I exclaimed. “If he gets hit the wrong way, he risks losing the use of his legs.”

Ash shrugged. “That’s the risk you take getting into any kind of ring. Can happen to the best of them.”

“You should still have a little tact.”

“Not when he’s muscling in on my woman.”

“You don’t even know the guy,” I said, but he was right. Caleb had tried it on the moment he’d laid eyes on me. I’d set the record straight day one, so there was never going to be a problem. There was no one else I would ever look at the way I looked at Ash Fuller. Never.

“Nope, but—”

“No buts.”

Ash grinned and pulled me back down onto his lap. His hand wandered up my thigh and between my legs, his lips brushing against my jaw.

“This is all mine,” he murmured.

“I’d make a grab for your dick, but you already know that’s mine.”

“That’s my dirty talkin’ Spitfire.”

Moving to straddle him, I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hand followed and began to rub against my clit, making my body come alive. One thing that hadn’t changed was my desire for his touch, and I doubted it ever would. He was able to coax pleasure out of me like I’d never known, and I took that as a sign we were made for each other.

Our lips met like they had so many times before, and our tongues delved, tasting the desire that began to burn brightly. Ash’s fingers rubbed against my clit harder, working the seam of my shorts against the ball of nerves, and I moved my hips back and forth.

His gaze met mine as he pulled his lips away, and he murmured, “I want in.”

Running my hands over his jaw, I delighted in the sensation of his stubble against my skin. “Then get in.”

Rising to his feet with me still wrapped around him, he carried me down the hall, through the master bedroom, and straight into the ensuite.

Pressing my back against the wall, I clamped my legs tightly around his waist and gasped as he began to rub his crotch against mine. He was as hard as a rock underneath all of those clothes, and I wasn’t just talking about his muscles.

“Dry humping?” I asked with a sigh as he kissed my neck.

“Wait for it, Spitfire,” he replied, his lips hot against my skin. “Don’t mess with the process.”

“There’s a process?” I asked, taking the piss even as he was making me hot and bothered in the most satisfying way.

“Don’t.” Kiss. “Question.” Lick. “It.” Bite.

I mewled in protest as he let me go and as I unwrapped my legs, my feet found the floor beneath me.

Peeling off my T-shirt and stepping out of my shorts, I pulled up the hem of his shirt and wrenching it over his head. The tattoo that covered his entire front was a thing of beauty, just like the body displaying it. Stars and swirls were etched into his skin along with the three most important words that made up the life of Ash Fuller.

Rage. Heart. Rebirth.

Rage for his uncontrollable anger, which we had been able to tame together, heart for all the unconditional love in his life and rebirth for the life we’d found together.

Running my hands over his chest, I kissed each word as he pushed down his shorts and boxers, freeing his erection. His hands came back to my hair, twisting as he held me in place. Putting his mouth on mine, he greedily swiped his tongue and kissed me hard as my lips became swollen under his onslaught. I responded in kind, my hands grasping onto his shoulders for dear life. This man kissed exactly the way he fought. Without rules, with calculated skill and with unbridled passion.

Jerking away, he wrapped an arm around my waist and spun me around until my back was pressed against his chest. Walking me across the bathroom, he positioned me in front of the marble-topped vanity and the floor to celling mirror behind it.

The tiles were warm underneath my feet, and as he held me firm, our gazes locked in the reflection before us. My entire body was on show, and all I could see of his was his broad shoulders and the edges of his tattoo curling over his skin. Leaning back, I pressed my body against his, feeling his hard erection against my ass. Reaching behind, I grasped his hips, then trailed my fingers back and down until I was holding his firm ass in my palms. One of his best assets if I was going to get all appreciative. Digging my fingers into his skin, I thrust my hips backward, grinding against his cock.

Damn, it was a sight to see us wrapped together like this.

“Damn, Spitfire,” he groaned. “You know all the right moves.”

I let my head fall into the crook of his neck as his hands came up to cup my breasts. He began to massage them in his big palms, his fingertips rolling and pinching my hardened nipples.

“Just so we’re clear,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, “all of this is off limits.”

He was getting territorial again. Every time a guy talked to me down in the gym, he blew steam out of his ears. I worked out hard and trained like a beast, so naturally, I had the body to match. Guys were going to look, I couldn’t stop them, but it didn’t mean I was going to let them touch.

His hands moved down to cup my sex, his finger sliding through my wetness. “Especially this.”

I moaned as his finger pressed inside me and his palm rubbed in deliciously slow circles against my clit. My head was in the clouds, all mixed up with the arousal he’d sparked, and I didn’t have it in me to give him a tongue-lashing for his caveman style sexcapades. Tongue-lashing… Actually, that sounded like fun.

“This is mine,” he muttered, easing a second finger into me.

“Curb the caveman.” I gasped as he continued to tease.

He grunted as his fingers drove into me again and again, his other hand pinching and playing with my nipples. That was it, once the grunting started I wouldn’t get a coherent thought out of him until he’d come. Totally not a complaint.

Just as things were getting good, he pulled his hand away and pressed his slick fingers against my lips. Without hesitation, I sucked them into my mouth, tasting myself on his salty skin. I swirled my tongue around each digit, moving my ass against his cock just the way he liked it.

His breathing began to accelerate as he tore his hand away and pushed me down over the vanity, hauling my ass up into the air.

“Mine,” he declared, massaging my flesh and coaxing my legs to open.

His jealous side was well and truly out, and I had to admit I enjoyed it when it resulted in this position, but he didn’t have to keep claiming me like the alpha male he was. I was already his, and he was already mine. I didn’t know how many times I had to say it, but he constantly needed to hear the word mine. I knew it had a lot to do with how his parents had handled him growing up, being there for his sister Violet, and his fear of being abandoned. Mainly, the fact that deep down he thought that one day he’d lose me. It was there even if he didn’t want to admit it.

That’s why he kept wanting to stake his claim. That’s why he’d brought up marriage, or at least that’s what I thought.

Ash’s hand fisted into my hair and twisted. Pulling my head back, his lips latched onto my neck and he bit softly before running his tongue along my skin.

Grasping the bench, I met his gaze in the mirror. Lust, passion, fire, love. It was all in his beautiful green eyes.

“Ash.” I gasped, wiggling my ass against him.

He moved his free hand between us and moved his cock between my legs, rubbing the head up and down my seam.

“What do you want, Spitfire? You want it in you? You want to ride it?”

Fuck, I loved his dirty mouth. We were both very physical creatures, and sex always turned out to be a triathlon of positions when he got this riled up about something. The thing about Ash Fuller was that on the surface, he was this simple guy with his muscles and high-flying business, but underneath, there was layer after layer of complexities, and even I hadn’t explored all of them yet. He loved hard, fought hard, and hurt hard, and everything he did he threw his all into. What did they say about people like that? He had an old soul.

“I need you.” I gasped as he pressed the head of his cock just inside my opening.

“How?” he growled, inching slightly deeper.

My legs quivered, and I tugged against his hold on my hair. He sure loved to dominate, and as long as we took it in turns, then I was all for it.

I shuddered against him. “Like it’s the first and last time you’ll ever fuck me.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t break stride. “Watch me, Ren. Watch what this does to us.”

Letting go of my hair, he grasped my hips and thrust. His cock slammed home with a slap, and I cried out, sensation exploding across my entire body. Flexing, he edged deeper until we were joined completely, and then he pulled back and entered me again and again, falling into a punishing rhythm that had me rising fast.

“Don’t stop,” I cried as I exploded around him.

He stroked faster, his fingers reaching around and finding my clit. He pinched hard, the sharp pain only pleasing me more, and I was falling and falling with no end in sight.

“Ren.” He grunted, curling his body over mine and holding deep inside me.

I felt his release pour into me as mine drew it out of him, and our gazes locked. Watching this strong, powerful man come apart because of me was hypnotic.

Turning my head, my lips searched for his and when they met, he kissed me slow and hard, our tongues massaging against one another in a contented dance as our orgasms began to fade.

“I love you.” I gasped as our lips broke apart.

His eyes were blazing powerfully in the afterglow. “I love you.”

“Only you,” I murmured as he pulled out and scooped me up into his arms. “Only you.”