by Ava Ashley
“Just you,” I say.
“Oh?” Cooper raises an eyebrow. “I guess I won’t ask, then. But are you guys looking forward to my fight tonight?”
“I’m sorry I’ll have to miss it,” Bettina says. “But I can’t say that I am not very much looking forward to spending the evening with all your cuties.”
“Little Cooper definitely gets all his good looks from his mom,” Cooper says, giving me another kiss on the top of my head. I am a lucky, lucky woman indeed.
Chapter Thirty-One
Savannah
I enter through the back entrance. The guys at the arena and I are on a first-name basis now. They always wave me through without a concern at all, because I eventually tired of the crowds of screaming fans and paparazzi snapping my photo, as Cooper “Veni Vidi Vici” Quin’s wife, at the entrance. I will have enough of all of that during the match.
I certainly have not tired of watching my man fight, however, and I never will. Watching his sheer athleticism paired with the masculinity of the fight serves as an incredibly powerful form of foreplay and, as amazing as our sex life is each and every day, I cannot deny that there is nothing quite like post-fight sex. I would rather give up all my material possessions than post-fight sex.
It’s a beautiful day outside and Lily, Nikki, and I are dressed up to the nines, finally all free of big baby bumps and flaunting our figures for our men in the fully done up makeup, hair, and wardrobe expected of MMA wives. My spike heels could put out an eye or two themselves. It’s good that it’s men in the ring, not spike-heeled women, because there is already enough blood as it is.
We take our seats right by the ring, on a slightly elevated platform. I sit in the middle and pay the photographers absolutely no attention at all, while Nikki preens and poses and blows kisses at them from the seat next to me. Despite my complete lack of interest in them, they have their lenses trained on me. I am used to it and I don’t mind the attention that comes with being with Cooper by now, but I also am not going to play to them like Nikki does. Some of us are MMA wives and some of us are just wives of MMA fighters. I am the latter, she is the former, but we are both happy.
I am lost in my thoughts and the excitement of being all dressed up and at a match again, after a few months of sitting them out for the last stages of pregnancy and the first weeks after giving birth to Cooper Jr. I don’t even notice the announcer beginning his spiel until the competitor has already been announced and a squat man who is about as wide as he is tall, with a bald head like a breakfast egg, is standing on one side of the ring and roaring at the crowd.
“And now welcome our defending champ, Cooper ‘Veni Vidi Vici’ Quin!” Everyone, including me, absolutely loses it when the doors at the far side of the stadium crash open and we see Cooper’s dark outline. His body is backlit by bright lights from out in the hall and the overall effect is very impressive. He walks towards us, his cape flaring out behind him and the hood pulled down low over his face, and my heart flutters. That’s my man.
The crowd is deafening as he walks down the aisle to the ring. He gets to the edge and jumps up into the ring, throwing his hood back with one smooth move. He looks straight at me and gives me a quick wink. My panties did not stand a chance to make it through this night dry.
The bell goes off to signal the start of the fight and Cooper has three punches in before the other guy even has the chance to put up his hands. I used to get scared watching Cooper fight, but not anymore. Ever since watching him take down the Maneater, I know that he can, and will, do whatever it takes. It is his opponent who should be worried.
That’s not to say that the fights are all a predictable snoozefest. His opponent is probably two hundred thirty-five pounds of solid muscle and the type who most likely got there with the help of a little, or a lot, of juice. Though he takes the first few punches, thanks to Cooper’s almost unmatchable agility, he is back up and blocking in moments. With the growl of an insulted bear, the man launches himself at Cooper. Cooper blocks the first blow, but takes the second across his chin. I wince, but I know he will be okay. And he is. Cooper comes back up with a knee to his opponent’s side and the crowd goes wild. I leap out of my seat.
“Yeah, Cooper!” I’m watching him fight, my very own virile example of perfect masculinity, and it really is the best foreplay. After some difficulty, I have found my hero.
The End
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About the Author
Amazon bestselling author Ava Ashley may look like the girl next door, but her steamy romances reveal a very naughty side. Raised in small town Ohio and now living in Homer, Alaska it's amazing that she hasn't increased the average temperature in her area of the state with her steamy writing. And she loves reading new adult romance novels as much as she enjoys writing them.
Ava likes spending time outdoors and does a lot of hiking and cycling with her husband and four children. When she can get away on her own, she'll often take pen and paper along, find a secluded spot and let the environment inspire her. Of course, that inspiration frequently results in characters tearing each other's clothes off, but you would expect nothing less from a romance writer.
