by Amity Cross
I pulled at the ugly gray jumpsuit they made us wear for the climb and grimaced.
“Hey, safety first,” he said with a smile.
Ever since he made his grand declaration at the airport, we hadn’t spent a moment apart. Just like the old days, I went to his training sessions and hung out with him and Dean—I even joined in on occasion. Josie swung by a couple of days after Lincoln’s missed press conference to declare that the waters had been smoothed. Apparently, someone had recognized him mid-tirade and filmed us at the Qantas check-in desk. For added bang for his buck, the guy had posted it to YouTube. Then media outlets had picked it up and Lincoln, the handsome AUFC champ, was big news. He was the unlikely face of sensitive new age guys everywhere.
And here I was still in Sydney, where everything was bright and shiny, and no darkness had seeped back in. I would still need to go to therapy for a while yet. Everything that had happened hadn’t flipped a switch and cured me. It was a lifelong battle. The things that had happened all that time ago would be with me forever. It was how I chose to deal with it that would shape my future.
“Beautiful,” Lincoln murmured into my ear.
I glanced at him, leaning my forehead against his cheek. “What? Me or the view?”
“You, but the view’s pretty awesome too.”
“You’re such a smooth operator,” I declared.
He grimaced and glanced back out across the skyline. He wasn’t saying something and seeing a guy like him squirm, had me on edge.
“Lincoln.”
“What?”
“What do you want to say? I can see you stewing over something.”
“It’s not exactly a marriage proposal,” he said with a nervous laugh. “It’s more like a will you move to Sydney so I can take care of your every whim kinda proposal.”
I gave him look. “You were waiting until we got to the top to ask that?”
“Every moment is a special one with you,” he said, making me melt.
“I was right about you,” I said, pinching his arm.
“And what were you right about?”
“That you’re a sensitive new age fighter.”
He began to laugh, shaking his head. Wrapping his arms around me, he murmured into my ear, “Don’t say that out loud again, Vee. I’m tough, remember?”
“It’s our little secret.”
Casting our gazes out across the Sydney skyline, we watched the world below go by as the other people on the tour oohed and aahed and took lots of photos. It didn’t matter that we were sharing this moment with a tour group. They may as well be invisible for all we cared.
“So, what do you say?” Lincoln asked before placing a kiss on my cheek.
Smiling up at him, I pulled away and peered over the edge of the bridge to the harbor below. A ferry was passing underneath, and as its stern disappeared from view, I glanced back up at Lincoln with a smile. I’d miss my stupid ape of a brother and the badass that was Ren. I’d even miss working at Pulse, but I’d miss Lincoln more if I went back. Being apart from the man I loved wasn’t an option. He didn’t need to wait for an answer, but I knew why he still asked.
“I suppose,” I said with a shrug.
“You suppose?” he exclaimed.
“Of course I will. This,” I said, spreading my arms wide and gesturing toward the city that I was still getting to know. “This doesn’t scare me anymore.”
Lincoln smiled at me, his dimple looking cuter than ever. “Is that so?”
“That’s the thing about fear,” I said as I tensed against the safety rope. Peering over the edge again, I stared down at the vast space beneath us, feeling more alive than I had in my entire life.
“What?” Lincoln asked, leaning over the edge with me. Fearless together.
Grabbing his hand, I said, “Sometimes, you’ve just gotta do.”
SPIKE
#4 The Beat and The Pulse
1
Ren
I looked out over the empire that Ash had built and smiled.
Pulse Fitness was booming six months after its grand opening. The machines were almost full, the classes were selling out and there were plenty of people wanting to sign up for the full package. Personal training, nutrition and more. We’d had to bring on more staff to keep up with the demand.
My sexy as hell boyfriend, Ash Fuller, was at the helm of it all, pulling the strings like a puppet master. He was even training a couple of up and comers for their shot at the big time. Troublemakers who had talent but lacked the discipline to get themselves there. Ash had said they were just like him when he was their age, and I guess that’s why he took them under his wing. They were just like him when he was their age, Ash had said, and I guess that’s why he took them under his wing.
Ash had his fair share of naysayers in the beginning, but he’d proven them wrong time and time again.
I turned down a lucrative professional fighting deal to slum it at everyone’s favorite illegal cage fighting hot spot, The Underground. Ash had turned it down to build his fitness empire.
So far, the kingdom was looking pretty bloody great.
A pair of huge hands covered my eyes from behind, and a hard chest pressed against my back.
“Hey, Spitfire.”
I smiled as I felt Ash move against me. “What’s with the blindfold, He-Man?”
“I am the master of your universe,” he shot back, biting my ear.
I grasped his wrists and tried to pull his hands away, but he was way too strong. “Seriously, what gives?”
“I’ve got a surprise for you upstairs.”
“Upstairs, huh?” He started to lead me across the gym, his back pressing against mine. Stumbling over his big feet, I said, “How about you cover my eyes when we get to the door.”
“I get to have your ass rubbing against my cock this way.”
“Filthy bastard,” I declared.
“You love it just as much as I do, Spitfire,” he replied, his voice low and husky. “Up.”
My foot hit the bottom step, and he lifted me gently, keeping one hand over my eyes. He was right about one thing, I did love the dirty talk just as much as he did. Ash Fuller had been dubbed a beast during his time at The Underground, and it extended outside of the cage and right into the bedroom. I wasn’t complaining at all if you know what I mean.
After what probably looked like a comedy routine to any bystanders, we made it to the top of the staircase in one piece and we moved down the hall.
“Have you finally finished the apartment?” I asked, still blinded by his hands.
When he first bought the derelict warehouse, Ash promised to build me a home in the space above the gym. I’d lived above my dad’s boxing studio, Beat, for a couple of years now, and I couldn’t imagine being away from a place that held everything I loved.
It wasn’t like that in the beginning though. Dad had stuck me in the storeroom like a dirty little secret, and I’d been ashamed over my living conditions for a long time. He didn’t want to introduce me to his family or take me in, so I’d been locked away in the cupboard like some kind of fucked-up Cinderella. Things had gotten better after Ash and I had found one another, but that was another long-winded story full of more drama than I could poke a stick at.
“Hold onto that thought, Spitfire,” he murmured.
Ash let one hand drop from my eyes as he unlocked the door to the apartment and pushed it open slightly. His hand returned to its position as my makeshift blindfold, and we were walking forward again.
“Ready?”
“Let me see already!” I complained, too excited to put up with his theatrics a second longer.
Ash pressed his lips against the back of my neck, and for a moment, I thought he was just pulling me up here for a quickie, but then his hands dropped away, and all was revealed.
“What do you think?” he murmured, an unmistakable hint of nervousness in his voice.
I stood there, open-mouthed, taking in the apartment Ash had built for
me.
The living area was open plan with a black and white kitchen dominating one end with a dining area to the right. In front of us was a large living room with all the essentials—a plush leather couch and armchairs, a dark cobalt blue rug, black coffee table and a wall-mounted television that must’ve been at least seventy inches. That was all great, but it was the little touches he’d put in that had me star-struck with him all over again.
There were shelves set into the wall with photos and ornaments, all of them fighting related. The frames held pictures from our recent holiday to Thailand, from candid snaps of us on the beach to full-on action replays of our time training at the boxing studio we’d been invited to.
It was simple and no fuss. Just how I liked to keep my life. I didn’t have any words, so I didn’t say anything.
“Fuck,” Ash spat, taking my silence to mean that I hated it.
“Calm the farm, Fuller,” I said, trying to hold back laughter.
“Then say something, Spitfire. You’re putting me on edge.”
“I haven’t seen the bedroom yet,” I said suggestively. “Or the bathroom.”
“Shower time with Ren Miller,” he said dreamily. He was totally taking the piss, but I loved him for it. He was much more chilled these days, and mostly I put it down to finally finding his calling in life. Coach Fuller had a nice ring to it.
Moving through the living room, I noticed a row of large photos on the wall. I went there first, stopping to study each one. There was one of my dad and I at one of my qualifying bouts when I was trying out for the AUFC. His arm was around my shoulders, his expression hard as he spoke into my ear, his free hand raised. My skin was glowing in the aftermath of the fight, my brow furrowed as I listened to what he was saying. It was a snapshot of something larger, a moment in the grand scheme. That had been a dark time for me. It was when Ash had left me high and dry, and I’d thought he’d murdered Hammer in my name, but Dad and that place had gotten me through.
After everything my family had been through, finding my dad again seemed like a miracle. He’d left my mum and I when I was five, and it wasn’t until I went and found him after her death that I realized he’d started another family. It’d taken a lot for us to get to this point.
Next to the photo of Dad and me, was one of Ash and me at the opening party for Pulse. He was looking totally swish in his suit and tie, and I was totally out of character in my slinky black dress. We stood together, his chest squished against mine, our eyes locked on one another like the crowd and the cameras didn’t exist. Another Kodak moment.
Moving onto the third photo, I frowned when I saw an enlarged print of the photo I kept in my things at Beat. After she’d passed, a lot of sleepless nights had been spent staring at the picture of my mum and I. We were sitting on a picnic table in a park, and her arms were around me. I must’ve been seven or eight, my long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and I wore a plain, red T-shirt and blue jeans. My mum looked totally nineties with a floral dress and hiking boots on her feet.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, not sure how I felt about having the photo on the wall. I kept it hidden, close and protected, since it was one of the few pictures I’d kept of us after she’d passed away.
“I had to go through your stuff,” Ash replied carefully. “I didn’t read your diary if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I don’t have a diary, smart-ass.”
“I thought you’d like it,” he murmured, unsure at my reaction.
I stared at the photo a moment longer, taking in the grainy image someone long forgotten had taken on an old film camera. “I love it.”
“Are you pissed that I snooped?”
I shook my head. “No secrets, remember?”
Taking Ash’s hand, I moved through to the bedrooms, inspecting each of the three. The two smaller rooms had a bathroom attached with a modest bath, shower, and vanity which had a black and white marble bench top with black tap ware, but it was the master suite that had me swooning.
Ash had put in a king bed with a black leather headboard. A recessed wall above had little reading lamps and photo frames inside, all matching colors with the artwork on the opposite wall. Huge floor to ceiling windows opened out onto a small private terrace, and beyond that, I could see the entire Melbourne city skyline. There was so much to look at, I didn’t know what to gush over first. The view that would light up the night like nothing else, the walk-in closet or the bathroom with the huge bath, double shower and underfloor heating.
It was totally posh and belonged on the pages of a design magazine. I couldn’t believe we were going to live here. Me and Ash. Ash and me. It was ours.
Kicking off my shoes and peeling off my socks, I curled my toes into the plush carpet and breathed in the new smell that clung to the apartment.
“I’m taking your silence to mean you like it,” Ash said from beside me.
“Are you kidding?” I asked, throwing my arms around his neck. “I love it.”
“Good,” he replied, moving his mouth to cover mine.
I parted my lips, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue merging with mine. I curled my fingers into his hair and held him against me, letting everything that he was overtake my senses to the point where I began to ache between the legs. Every time Ash kissed me, my knees buckled. Nothing had changed since day one in that department and neither had my need for him to be inside me. If anything, it’d gotten stronger as each day went by.
“I love you,” I murmured, pulling away.
“I love you,” he echoed, running his hands up and down my back before cupping my ass. “When are you moving in?”
“I’ve gotta stick around Beat until Dad finds someone to take over management,” I murmured, tracing my fingers over his lips.
“When’s that? I’m dying without you.”
“Suck,” I said with a laugh.
“True story, Spitfire,” he retorted. “Every night that you’re not in my bed… Let’s just say my hand ain’t the same.”
“Deviant.”
“When?” He pressed.
“A couple of days I hope. Dad’s coming back next week.”
“Good. Can you feel how happy that makes me?” He moved his crotch against me, and boy, could I ever.
“Do you have anything to do right now?” I asked, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt and pulling it up.
Ash swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to my breasts, which were squashed against his chest. “I’ve got an hour. What did you have in mind?”
I bit my lip and smiled sweetly. “Shower time with Ash Fuller.”
2
Ash
“Dammit!”
I smashed a fist down on the kitchen counter in frustration.
“What’s up your ass?” Ren asked from her perch at the island.
She was sitting there in a tiny T-shirt and pajama bottoms, spoon in hand with a bowl of her favorite cereal in front of her. All Bran and berries. The blue ones always got eaten first so she could save the red ones for last. Point was, she was watching me with a raised eyebrow looking sexy as hell.
I gestured at the toaster, which wouldn’t toast. “The fuckin’ thing won’t thing.”
“The fuckin’ thing won’t thing?” she asked, raising her eyebrow even higher. Sliding off the stool, she rounded the island and stood next to me. “Ah, I see the problem.”
Leaning around me, her tits pressed against my arm, and she smiled coyly...and flicked the switch on at the wall.
“It has to be on first,” she said with a smirk. “Give it a try now.”
Pushing down the lever, the bread stayed down, and the toaster began to do its job. “Hallelujah.”
“Where would you be without me?”
“Sittin’ here eatin’ cold bread.”
Pulling in a deep breath, I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. I cast my gaze out across the apartment that I’d built for my one and only, taking it all in. It was bri
lliant and all, and I had spared no expense making her dream home come alive, but something wasn’t right. There was a feeling in the air that something was unfinished, but I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly it was. Pulse was doing great, and it ran like clockwork these days, the apartment was finished and paid off, Violet was finally happy and living her life up in Sydney, and drama was at an absolute zero.
Maybe the fact that Violet was absent was the thing that had me on edge. She was my baby sister who I’d protected through some of the worst years of our lives like a parent. I had to after ours had abandoned us like unwanted furniture on the side of the road. Maybe the absence of a family was what I was missing.
Ren edged closer and placed her hand on my arm. “What’s on your mind, Maverick?”
“Nothin’.” Every time I had a shift in mood, she was onto me like a hawk. The toaster popped and I turned and pulled the hot slices out and began spreading margarine and jam on them.
“What’s that look on your face?” Ren asked, standing beside me.
“What look?” I asked, wrapping my arm around her waist.
“The one that says the cogs are turning in your brain.”
I shook my head, casting my gaze across the apartment. It was perfect. She loved the home I’d built for her, she loved the gym downstairs, she loved her life and she loved me. What else could I ask for?
Ren pinched me on the ass. “Maverick, spill.”
“Do you ever wonder about what’s next?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Where’s this going?”
I shrugged. “I’ve been so focused on getting this place going and now that it’s done…” I sighed, pulling Ren into my arms.
“You need a goal, fighter?” she murmured against my chest.
I grunted.
“Well, what about Cole and Ryan? They’re getting pretty good. It’ll be time soon for qualifiers. Do you think they’re ready?”
Ren was thinking about the business and the two stooges downstairs, but I’d been thinking about something else.
