Serious Ink

by Ranae Rose

  He peeled off the condom and went to throw it away, presumably in the bathroom next door – they’d never gotten far enough through their tour for him to show her it, or the kitchen. He was back in a heartbeat, still fully naked, still fully hard. The sight sent her heart speeding ahead again as she stretched out her legs, swinging them over the side of the bed.

  No sooner had her toes brushed the carpet than he approached, sinking down beside her and sweeping her up, onto the mattress. “I won’t let you compete with Schubert for the futon. He fights dirty. Stay here. There’s plenty of room.”

  His breath rushed hot against her ear as he pulled her farther onto the bed, drawing her close with an arm around her waist. Their naked bodies fit together so perfectly that she couldn’t bring herself to move. She hadn’t meant to stay that night.

  She did anyway.

  * * * * *

  “What do you mean you’re moving out on your own?” Paul spread his hands flat on the kitchen table, bracing himself against it like he couldn’t believe what Zoe had just said. “Since when?”

  “Since yesterday. Look, I overheard you and Britney talking. I know you found a great place you want to move into and that it only has one bedroom. If it’s still available, go for it. It’s about time I move out on my own anyway. Maybe this whole eviction thing will work out for the best.”

  “We didn’t know you were looking for a roommate,” Britney said. “We never would’ve asked you to do that, especially with only 15 days’ notice.”

  “I know. It was my decision. So are you guys going to go for that apartment or what?”

  Paul and Britney exchanged a glance. With as good as they’d become at communicating silently, they might as well have been married already.

  “Yeah…” A slow smile swept over Britney’s face. “I guess so. But only if you’re sure.”

  Zoe smiled too. “I’m sure. I’m going to move my stuff into my new apartment today, actually.”

  “Where’s your new place?” Paul’s expression was still tinged with suspicion. “It’d better be in a good neighborhood – nothing like where we were living before here.”

  Zoe rattled off Noah’s address, which seemed to appease Paul … for a few seconds.

  “Who’s your roommate?” he demanded.

  Zoe infused her voice with as much matter-of-factness as she could muster. “My boss.”

  Paul’s jaw actually dropped, and his eyes went several shades darker. “Which one?”

  “My new one. Noah Wilder.”

  A storm cloud might as well have drifted over Paul’s head. “That guy you went out with the other night? You’re planning to move in with him?”

  “Yes.”

  All traces of the hopeful look Paul had exchanged with Britney just moments ago were gone. “That’s insane. No way. Zoe, I don’t know what this guy said to you, but—”

  “Paul, look.” She’d expected this. “I’m doing it – I’m moving in today.”

  “This’d better not be about the place Britney and I looked at!” he half-shouted. “I don’t want to move in there if it means my sister shacking up with some pervert.”

  Zoe winced inwardly, but tried not to let it show. God, Paul was loud, when he wanted to be. “He’s not a pervert and we’re not shacking up. We’re going to be roommates, and for the record, he’s a really nice guy. He rescued a cat.”

  Paul snorted. “You barely know him. You’ve been on two freaking dates. And he wants you to move in with him? I guarantee you he’s scheming to get in your pants.”

  Paul’s words stung. They would have even if Zoe hadn’t already slept with Noah the night before – and that morning, before she’d left to return home and share her news with Paul and Britney.

  Before Zoe could respond, Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, is that where you were last night?” Despite the fact that he was only twenty-seven, he looked ready to have an aneurysm.

  She considered lying, but bit her tongue before a convenient lie could tumble out. “Actually, yes. I stayed there last night. It was fine. I’ll be fine tonight, and every other night. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “Like hell I don’t! Did he…” Paul’s face went red, and Zoe could see his overprotective instincts warring with the horror of discussing anything sexual with his little sister. “If he touched you, let me know. I’ll break every damn bone in both of his hands.”

  Zoe straightened. “Noah is not a pervert and you will not, under any circumstances, break any of his bones. Why do you just assume he’s a creep?”

  “Because he’s a guy.” Paul glared at her from across the table. “Don’t do this, Zoe. You have a home with me and Britney. We can find another place with room for all three of us. Moving in with a stranger, putting yourself at risk – it’s not worth it.” He’d lowered his voice by several decibels, obviously trying hard to appeal to her sense of reason.

  There was nothing he could say to talk her out of it. “We’d barely have over a week to find another place together, and that’s not long enough. Remember how long it took us to get in here? Anyway, I’ve been wanting to be more independent for a while. Well, here’s my chance. You and Britney are engaged – I know you want to ditch your third wheel and, you know, actually get married. This had to happen at some point.”

  “It doesn’t have to happen right now.”

  Paul was stubborn, but so was Zoe. The trait was written into the DNA they shared. “I’m twenty-four years old. That’s more than old enough to move out, and way too old to take orders from my big brother. Sorry, Paul. I’ve made my decision. I came here to tell you, not ask your permission.”

  His jaw tensed, and he looked like he was literally biting his tongue, probably saving his breath for whatever horrible threat against Noah he’d come up with next.

  Britney stepped forward, laying a hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “Zoe, I have to side with Paul. Moving in with a guy you barely know doesn’t seem like a very good idea.” She met Zoe’s gaze, a knowing look in her eyes. “You could end up getting hurt.”

  Zoe knew Britney didn’t mean physical hurt.

  “I’ll be fine,” Zoe said. “If it doesn’t seem like it’s working out, I’ll keep looking for another place with other roommates.”

  A little dent appeared in Britney’s lip, and she looked sad. Having her around was basically the same thing as having a big sister. Zoe didn’t like worrying her, but at least she didn’t yell like Paul did.

  “Really. I’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t like this,” Paul said. “It’s a bad idea.”

  “Zoe is right – we can’t stop her, if this is really what she wants to do,” Britney said.

  Paul frowned.

  “I’ll be moving my stuff today.” She didn’t say exactly when – she didn’t want Paul to be around when Noah came to help her pack up her bed.

  “I’ll be at the gym,” Paul said after a few tense moments, reaching for a chair and snatching up the hoodie that had been draped over the back of it. “See you tonight, Britney.” He pulled the sweatshirt over his head and strode toward the door.

  “I mean it about breaking his hands,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped out into the late March morning. “If he lays one finger on you…”

  “Bye, Paul,” Zoe said. “Good luck with your training.”

  * * * * *

  Coming home to Zoe was enough to have Noah taking the steps two at a time, climbing toward his unit. He knew she was there; her car had been in the parking lot. She’d been living with him for a few days, now. Funny how her presence made his new apartment seem more like a home than his old one back in Buffalo ever had.

  Sex aside – and holy fuck, had they been having it – it was nice to come home to someone who’d smile at him. Schubert might butt his head against his shin, if he was in an especially charitable mood. Or hungry. But Zoe’s smile blew that out of the water.

  “Oh, hey,” Zoe said, looking up from where she knelt in the center of th
e living room. “I was expecting your meeting to run later.” She had one arm elbow-deep inside an open moving box, the other cradling something in her lap.

  Whenever he worked up the will to drag his gaze from her beautiful face – making a detour to stare at her equally beautiful breasts, covered but still tempting beneath her long-sleeved t-shirt – he recognized that something immediately.

  It was a photo album – his photo album. Old pictures from years ago. One of his sisters had put it together for him. He almost never looked at it, but he wouldn’t have wanted to lose it – he’d packed it carefully with a box of drinking glasses and plates.

  She glanced down at the open album and her brows knit together as her lips curled in a frown. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. This box was unlabeled, and I thought it was one of mine.”

  “It’s all right.” He didn’t know what he thought of her looking through the album, really. He guessed it didn’t matter much. “I needed to unpack those glasses anyway. I’ve been using the same three cups since I moved in. Kind of pathetic.”

  Her pained expression intensified. “I looked through the album. I couldn’t resist.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, and sitting there on her knees as she confessed, she looked repentant. “So I was definitely snooping, even if that wasn’t my original intention. Are you mad?”

  He almost laughed, but vivid memories – of other times she’d spent on her knees, in front of him – flooded his mind, crowding out his sense of amusement. “No, I’m not mad.”

  She breathed a sigh. “Oh, good. When you walked in, I knew I’d been caught red-handed going through your stuff. It was so hard to keep a straight face.”

  He did laugh then. “You didn’t keep a straight face. Even now, you look like a toddler caught with one hand in the cookie jar.”

  Her cheeks went pink. “Well, if you’re really not pissed at me, do you mind if I keep looking? Some of these photos are really hot.”

  He barely suppressed another snort of amusement. “Knock yourself out.”

  She reopened the album, eyes gleaming. Now she looked like a toddler who’d been given free access to the cookie jar. “I had no idea you were a fighter,” she said. “Though I guess it makes perfect sense. I can’t believe I never thought to ask.”

  “It was a long time ago.” Five years since he’d stepped into a cage, to be exact. That might not seem like a lot to some, but it felt like a lifetime to him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that martial arts had been an all-consuming part of his life for an entire decade before that.

  Of course, it was still an all-consuming part of his life, just in a different way. He’d evolved.

  “Obviously, you competed,” she said, flipping a page. “For how long? What was it like?”

  “I was serious about competing for a couple years.” Back in his early to mid-twenties. “Started out on a pretty rough amateur circuit. Things got better over time. I was on my way up – competing professionally – when I quit.” Or at least, that was how it’d felt – like he’d been reaching for the top of the world when he’d come crashing down.

  Maybe his career never would’ve reached the heights he’d aspired to, but there was no knowing now. It might’ve. He’d certainly been poised for a chance at success.

  “Why’d you quit?”

  CHAPTER 8

  “Injury.” Even now, it was still impossible to speak the word without feeling a hint of the old grudge – a grudge against circumstance, against his own body.

  She looked up, gaze snapping to his, like a light bulb had gone off above her head. “Your shoulder?”

  For a split second, he felt the bone-crunching impact of his body hitting the mat, a hundred and sixty-five pounds all concentrated on a few square inches of flesh and bone, a joint that had never been meant to absorb a blow like that. He recalled the snap of bone, the shock of breakage. But what had been worse had been the long weeks of persistent pain after the surgery, the seemingly endless frustration of physical therapy, slowly re-training everything only to fuck it all up again while simply sparring, ruining all the progress he’d made just when the pins had almost started to feel like part of his body.

  “Yeah.”

  She frowned. “That must’ve sucked.”

  “It did. But I have Elite East now.” He loved the sport, even if he couldn’t be in the cage. Sitting on the sidelines or at home in front of a pay-per-view match wouldn’t have been enough, but working his ass off at Elite East was. It was his contribution to the sport – his corner of the MMA world. His passion, now that his gloves and hand wraps were packed away for good.

  “I wondered what inspired you to get into MMA promotion. It makes sense that you’d have a background in the sport.”

  He nodded. “Couldn’t stay away from it. Got the idea for Elite East a few years ago. Wanted to be involved with something better than the seedy matches I got my start with. Something legit, you know – real but sanctioned. The laws are different here in PA than they are in NY. The only stuff you can get away with legally there is amateur and unpaid. Get money involved, try to regulate things, and all of a sudden it’s a crime. That’s one of the reasons why we moved our business here – a tournament like Elite East’s would be illegal there.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Noah shrugged. “I’m not saying fights don’t happen there – they do. But the fact that the state won’t allow it on a professional level leaves a lot of room for people to do whatever the hell they want, if they’re determined to do it anyway. Obviously, it didn’t make sense for us to be headquartered there when we couldn’t even organize events in our own state. Everything Elite East is doing is on the up-and-up, just so you know.”

  She smiled. “Well, it’s a relief to know I’m not employed by an underground fighting ring. I’m not sure how I’d go about filing my taxes if I was.”

  He smiled back. “So what are you doing for dinner?”

  She shrugged. “Figured I’d cook something, since I’m not working tonight.”

  “Well, neither am I. Want some help in the kitchen?”

  “Sure. But first…”

  “What?”

  “Give me another minute to finish looking through these photos.”

  * * * * *

  Zoe had been living with him for more than a week. During that time, she hadn’t spent a single night in her own bed, despite the fact that she’d expressed every intention to do so in the beginning. Those things considered, Noah should’ve been able to keep it in his pants while he was at work.

  God help him, though, she was wearing the pencil skirt again, and they were alone in the office.

  Jay had been hit by a stomach virus and was home, presumably puking his guts out. Darrin was off that day and Andy was out inspecting a prospective venue. Across the office, Zoe sat at her desk, typing away.

  Noah didn’t have anything particularly pressing to pretend to be busy with. He’d just gotten off the phone with the state athletic commission, sorting out some details for the insurance they’d need to purchase for the upcoming opening rounds of the tournament. It’d been a productive conversation, but right now, insurance was the farthest thing from his mind.

  “Hey,” Zoe said when he approached the desk, “I just finished typing up that rules and regulations informational flyer you had me working on. Wanna give it a look?” She clicked, and the printer hummed to life, spitting out a piece of paper.

  She shoved it into his hand before he could protest. The paper was warm, and her fingertips were hot when they brushed his.

  He tore his gaze away from her long enough to read over what he’d asked her to put together. All the information was there – everything he’d asked her to include on the flyers they’d be distributing to local gyms and martial arts schools. To register for the opening rounds of the tournament, all fighters would have to obtain a license from the state and complete a physical exam. Zoe had spelled out the requirements in clear, bulleted terms, i
ncluding details on fees and special rules for debut fighters.

  “Nice work.” He laid the flyer down on her desk. “Mind making about a million copies?”

  He’d finally sprung for the copier she’d suggested.

  “A million? Sure. Give me five minutes.” She picked up the flyer and pushed back her chair, rising.

  “Hey.” He closed one hand around her wrist, stopping her gently. “I was just kidding about the number. Fifty should be fine to start. And you don’t have to do it this minute.”

  She met his gaze, dark eyes beautiful beneath even darker lashes. “Is there something else you need me to take care of first?”

  Her tone was neutral, but the barest hint of a smirk curled her irresistible lips, and he knew she was onto him.

  “I have this idea…” he said, mouth suddenly dry at the thought of it becoming a reality.

  “What kind of an idea?”

  “Well, it’s more of an erotic fantasy, realistically speaking.” One that had been giving him a near-constant hard-on for a couple weeks, now.

  She arched a brow, and her smile crept a little wider. “Are you sure we should be discussing that in the office?”

  “I’m not talking about discussing.” He let go of her wrist, placing both of his hands on her hips instead, pulling her close. “I’m talking about doing it. Here.”

  “At my desk?”

  “On your desk.”

  “I…” Her smile didn’t fade, but her cheeks went pink.

  He took that as a good sign and kissed her – briefly but thoroughly – before forcing himself to pry his hands off of her. “Be right back.”

  He strode across the office and locked the front door, just in case. It wasn’t like Elite East saw a lot of foot traffic, but better safe than sorry. He’d fuck her over her desk in a heartbeat if she was up for it, but he wouldn’t risk embarrassing her at work. God knew he’d fucked up in that respect the first day he’d met her.