“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 Fuller. 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.