Crash

by Amity Cross

“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.”

  Other Books in The Beat and The Pulse series…

  #1 Beat – Ash and Ren

  #2 Pulse – Ash and Ren

  #3 Crash – Violet and Lincoln

  #3.5 Spike – Ash and Ren

  #4 Flow – Hamish

  #5 Surge – Dean

  To keep up to date with new releases and all the news, please sign up for Amity Cross’ Newsletter

  Keep reading for a sneak peak at SPIKE (#3.5 The Beat and The Pulse)

  SPIKE (#3.5 The Beat and The Pulse)

  Coming October 5th

  *Excerpt unedited and subject to change

  One

  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 that had talent, but the lack of discipline to get themselves there. 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 had his fair share of naysayers in the beginning, but he’d proven them wrong time and time again. I turned down a lucrative deal fighting professionally to slum it at everyone’s favorite illegal cage fighting hotspot, 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 bed. I wasn’t complaining at all.

  We made it to the top of the staircase in one piece, after what probably looked like a comedy routine to any bystanders, and we stopped down the hall.

  “Have you finally finished the apartment?” I asked, still blinded by his hands.

  When he first bought the derelict warehouse, Ash had 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 hadn’t been 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 that Ash had built for me.

  The living area was open plain, a black and white kitchen dominated one end with a dining are 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 that 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 chill 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 listed 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 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 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. I’d lain in bed a lot of sleepless nights after she passed 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 sev
en or eight, my long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and I wore a pain 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 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 with black and white marble bench tops with back 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 walls and artwork on the opposite wall. Huge floor to ceiling windows opened out onto a small private terrace and beyond, 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 under floor 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 that as a yes,” Ash said 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 kissed me deeper, 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.”

  To be continued…

  SPIKE (#3.5 The Beat and The Pulse)

  Coming October 5th

  About the Author

  Amity Cross isn't her real name. That's no secret.

  She is the author of wicked stories about rock stars looking for redemption, gritty romances featuring MMA fighters and dark tales of forbidden romance. She loves to write about screwed up relationships and kick ass female leads that don't take s**t lying down.

  Amity lives in a leafy country town in southern Australia and can be found chained to her desk, held at ransom by her characters.

  Don't send help. She likes it.

  Follow Amity:

  AmityCrossWrites.com

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  * * *

  [CS1]Suggestion:

  Without acknowledging her remark, I slunk out of the bathroom and around the corner, rushing back up the stairs to my safe little office.