by Amity Cross
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?
5
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 Full
er. 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.”
Lettin
g 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.”
6
Ren
I pushed into the cafe around the corner from Beat and inhaled the scent of fresh roasted coffee.
“Hey, Ren.”
I smiled at the barista behind the counter and said in my best chirpy morning voice, “Hey, Seth.”
Seth was one of the sweetest guys I knew, and the best thing about him was that he was not a fighter. At six-two he was this tall, lanky hipster with black horn-rimmed glasses. Not long after I first moved to Beat, we’d become friends and had gone out on a nice but ultimately disastrous date. I’d fantasized about Ash the entire time, which was totally not fair, but he was cool about it, and we’d been buddies ever since.
Seth smiled, his glasses fogging up under the onslaught of steam from the coffee machine. “You want your usual?”
