Spike: (#3.5 The Beat and the Pulse) (5 page)

Eight

Ren

I slipped out the next morning before Ash woke.

Maybe he’d changed his mind and was trying to ease out of it gently to spare my feelings. Or maybe he just had a feather up his ass about something. Either way, he wasn’t telling, and that was the thing that hurt the most.

After all the shit we’d been through to get to where we were, knowing that he was keeping something from me stung. It didn’t matter if it was big or small because, when it came down to it, the intent was there.

Beat was quiet tonight. Everyone had gone home, and there was no class scheduled, so Caleb had made good on his offer to teach me some of the ins and outs of boxing. I was glad to have something to take my mind off the whole marriage thing.

Glancing over to the ring where Caleb was busy setting up something he wanted to show me, I began to wonder what Ash was doing right now. As usual, the hulking specimen that was my nearest and dearest was closest in my thoughts when we weren’t together. When I didn’t come home tonight, he’d work himself up into a ball of anxiety.

Snorting, I shook my head. He had to learn to live without me being there once in a while. Co-dependency wasn’t healthy for a guy with the abandonment issues he had. Hell, we both had them, but I’d learned to deal pretty fast when my mum finally lost her battle with cancer. Ash never really had.

Flexing my fingers, I tested my wraps and found them tight. I cast a look at my gym bag, which I’d set under the bench, and wondered if I should at least text to say where I was, but then I shoved away the thought. If he wanted to keep something from me…
What a selfish thing to think
.

“You ready?”

I glanced up as Caleb appeared out on the mats. Unlike most gym-junkie fighter types I knew, he was wearing a tank top with the Beat logo on the front with his shorts and bare feet. His hands were all wrapped up in black, and he had this whole mean and lean thing going on. Definitely not an MMA kinda guy.

Standing, I said, “As I’ll ever be.”

My phone began to ring, and I tried to block out the annoying trill.

“Do you need to get that?” Caleb asked, nodding at my bag.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

It stopped ringing for a second, and then started up again.

“You sure? They’re pretty persistent.”

Bending over, I pulled the phone out of the side pocket and saw a couple of missed calls from Ash. I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, at least not without it turning into a slanging match, so I switched the phone to silent and chucked it back.

“Sorted,” I declared, squaring off in front of Caleb. “Where do we start?”

“They have this saying in boxing,” Caleb said, turning on his teacher mode. “Styles make fights.”

“Styles?” I cocked my head to the side, my beef with Ash falling to the wayside as my natural curiosity was pulled back to the one thing I was good at. Fighting.

“There are a few different ways you can approach this kind of fighting. There’s the counter puncher who uses their book smarts to keep a safe distance from their opponent.” He tapped his temple with a grin. “Then they pick their spots to attack.”

“Defensive fighting,” I said.

“Right. Then there’s the boxer puncher.”

“Who just belts the shit out of their opponent?”

He laughed and nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. But it’s more about wearing down the other guy. You’d be good at it, One-Shot. The fighters who have this style nailed down are known for their brutal KO’s.”

“Sign me up,” I retorted with a wicked grin.

“Then there’s the slugger.” Caleb smacked his fists together. He looked pleased with himself, his eyes sparkling much the same way Ash’s did when he was about to fight.

“You fought like that?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was my thing. Sluggers, or brawlers as some call ’em, fight with aggression.”

“So you were a hard-ass?”

“Something like that. It’s all about wearing the other guy down with relentless pressure. Fast and hard.” He wiped his forearm over his brow and shook his head like he was trying to rid himself of a bad memory.

“What?”

“To fight like that you need to be able to take a lot of hits. Because you’re moving so fast, it leaves a lot of defensive holes that are easily manipulated.” He bowed his head. “You get pummeled just as good as you dish it out.”

Yeah, I got it. I’d taken a lot of hits fighting at The Underground and in the AUFC, but not to the point where I was a borderline paraplegic. Not like Caleb. I could see the spark and the passion he had for his chosen sport as clear as day, and not being able to compete anymore must be tough. Especially since he was still at the top of his game.

“What are the punches?” I asked, turning the conversation back onto the task at hand.

He smiled weakly and nodded. “The five punches are the jab, cross, hook, uppercut, and overhand,” he explained. “You need a strong stance. Last thing you want is to lose your balance. The other most important thing you can have in boxing is your footwork. That’s why I do a lot of duck and weave training.”

“Sounds boring.” I was used to the freestyle and unrestricted freedom of using a variety of techniques. This all seemed so…sleep inducing.

“Boxing is no less brutal than MMA, Ren,” Caleb said with a chuckle. “It might be a little more regimented than you’re used to, but it’s still very technical. The aim of the game is to hit but not get hit.”

“At least less than the other dude,” I said.

He pointed at me with his wrapped hand. “You’re a smart cookie.”

I jumped up and down on the spot, ready to get into it. “Where do we start?”

He pointed to the ring. “Let’s see what your maneuverability is like.”

Following him across the mats, he held up the ropes as I ducked underneath.

“So that’s what you were fluffing about with?” I asked as he climbed in behind me.

While I’d been warming up, he’d set up the ring like a pinwheel. A rope was attached to each corner of the ring, crossing in the middle, and then each quarter had been divided into slices.

“Duck and weave,” he declared. “Makes your quads hurt like hell, so I hope you’ve been treating them nice.”

I tested the tension of the closest rope, which was at chest height.

Caleb clicked his fingers, standing in the slice directly opposite me. “Show me your stance.” I assumed the position, and he nodded. “Good. Now, duck and weave while concentrating on your body position and balance.”

“Is that all?” I complained.

Caleb laughed at me like he knew something I didn’t. “Give it a shot, but do it as fast as you can. Here, I’ll show you.”

He ducked underneath the rope to his right, his feet moving with him, and then he ducked back and forth, moving around the ring.

“You can pair it with a few punches once you catch the drift,” he said, his breathing beginning to accelerate. “Makes it a little more interesting.”

I gave it a go and found he was right about the quads.

“Good, now keep it going,” he said, standing back to keep an eye on my form.

I tried to focus on my movement, but my mind kept slipping back to Ash. It wasn’t like I’d never consider marrying him, it was more that it was just a legal thing in my eyes. We connected deeper than a stupid bit of paper, and Australian law didn’t mean squat when you were talking about something as deep as your soul.

Ducking underneath one of the ropes, I wobbled on my feet before righting myself.
Ever since he’d brought the wedding thing up flippantly and I’d dismissed him, he’d been acting funny
. Now he wasn’t telling me something. Had I hurt his pride that much? The idea that it was something simple like his wounded manhood pissed me the hell off.

I weaved underneath another rope, knocking my head as I went by, and promptly slipped and fell flat on my ass. My tailbone smarted as Caleb began to laugh.

“Shut the hell up,” I said with a scowl.

“You okay?” he asked, holding out a hand. “You’re off your game.”

“Yeah.” Grasping his wrist, his fingers wrapped around mine and he hauled me up to my feet.

“Yeah?” He bumped his shoulder against mine. “Trouble in paradise?”

I shrugged then shook out my arms.

“Was that your boyfriend ringing you before?”

“You give a shit?” I asked with a scowl.

“Of course I give a shit. It’s been a week or so, but I’d consider us friends.” He looked me up and down, and he didn’t make much of an effort to cover up the fact that he lingered on my tits. “Right?”

Scowling, I backed away from him a step. “Not when you look at me like that, you’re not.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “The thought crossed my mind, but you’ve got a knack with putting guys like me in their places pretty quick smart.”

“Guys like you?”

“Devils, Ren,” he said with a wicked little wink. “In all kinds of places.”

I snorted, my lip curling into a smile despite myself.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

I didn’t see the issue with telling Caleb. I mean, the two guys hadn’t even met, and I knew that Ash would make excuses not to since he was happy in his own little world over at Pulse.

I curled my hand around the nearest rope like it would ground me. “He’s not telling me something, and it’s messing with me.”

“Cut the guy some slack,” Caleb said with a wink. “Sounds like he’s got a lot on his plate if what I read in the paper is anything to go by.”

Ash had a lot riding on the gym. I mean, he’d given up a contract fighting in the AUFC, after he’d been banned, to open Pulse and a lot of people were expecting him to fail big time. It did put the pressure on, but Ash had never shown it once. Like the typical bloke he was, he just took it all in his stride and acted nonchalant about it. Yeah, nonchalant until he exploded.

“All you can do is ask,” Caleb said. “If he doesn’t want to talk, then you’ve just gotta give him time to sort whatever’s pissing him off.”

I waved my hand at him and asked, “What were you saying the other week about getting hit in the head?”

“Low blow, One-Shot,” he said with a grimace.

“Sorry, I’m just…” I threw my hands into the air, thoroughly over it.

“Over it?”

“Frustrated.”

“Well—”

I could see a dirty look in his eye, and I didn’t like it one bit. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” I snapped.

“Can’t fault a guy for trying it on with a beautiful woman.”

“Puke.” I pretended to stick my fingers down my throat.

Shaking his head, Caleb ducked out of the ring. “I think we better call it a night. Your head isn’t in the game.”

“Suit yourself.” Knowing that I’d just train to work out my frustration once he was gone, I ducked under the ropes and joined him on the mats.

“When you get home, just talk to the guy,” he said, beginning to unravel the wraps on his hands. “Lay it all out.”

I watched absently as he wound the bandages into a neat pile before starting on the other hand.

“Or is it too far gone?”

“What?” I asked, blinking hard.

“Well, you’re either going to work it out or end it entirely. That’s what it comes down to.”

My lips curled in distaste. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“Just calling it as I see it.” He shrugged in that cocky fighter way of his—like he knew everything when he knew nothing.

“I’m crashing in the upstairs room tonight,” I said, scooping up my bag.

Caleb gave me the once over. “Right.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, just say it.”

He shook his head and began to back away toward the showers. “Don’t let it fester too long, Ren.” Pointing upstairs he added, “I’ve taken a number.”

“Are you coming onto me?” I asked, my mouth dropping open.

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I call dibs when the fallout settles.”

Then he was gone.

Nine

Ren

“I’m sorry.”

I glanced up from the pile of paperwork I was helping out with and found Ash standing in the doorway.
The office was empty since everyone had gone home an hour ago, but I’d stuck around a little longer to avoid talking to him
. I’d never dragged out a fight this long, or stayed over at Beat to avoid hashing it out, and he knew it.

He leaned against the wall and nudged the door closed with his foot. He had this sheepish look on his face like he’d been caught with his hand in the lolly jar.

I raised an eyebrow and turned back to the paperwork.

“Ren, look…” I glanced up at him, and he shrugged. “You know I’m bad at this shit.”

“It’s not an excuse,” I said, looking at the invoice so I didn’t have to look at him.

“I didn’t like not being with you last night.”

Best not tell him that Caleb was already staking a claim over our nonexistent break up.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“Beat.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m not keeping anything from you.”

I shook my head. “I can tell when you’re bullshitting me, Ash.”

“Look at me.”

I shook my head, stood, and walked over to the filing cabinet. He watched me put the bit of paper away as I stewed on his admission. He said nothing was on his mind, but I could feel it. Something heavy hung in the air, and it was killing me knowing that something was amiss, and I couldn’t help him. He wasn’t letting me in, and after all the work it took for us to get to this point—all the fucking heartbreak and the fighting—it hurt like hell.

“I trained with Caleb last night.” I don’t know why I said it because it was like slapping him in the face, but it came out and hung there like an elephant in the room.

I sensed Ash’s body stiffen as the words hit him, and I cast my gaze to the floor. Training at Beat in the dark was our thing. It brought us together when nothing else could’ve made a difference. It was our thing.

His fist hit the wall, and I jumped, my gaze finding his. His shoulders were tense, jealousy clearly written all over his face.

“Did he touch you?” he asked, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of rage and lust.

I shook my head. “No.”

His eyes narrowed, and he pressed forward, backing me against the wall. His caveman was out, and his hands raised to grasp any part of me he could. My back hit the plaster, and he was on me, shoving his thigh between my legs, his mouth covering mine. He showed no mercy as he told me with his touch what he couldn’t seem to vocalize. He was sorry, but what for?

The kiss deepened to unbearable levels, as I knew it inevitably would, and I wrapped my arms round his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair. As his tongue claimed mine in slow swirls, my nipples tightened against his chest. This was how he told me that he wanted me forever. No stupid ceremony could give us this unbelievable passion. We totally clicked in the physical sense, but we still had emotional things we needed to work through and solving those would only come with time.

“I want you,” Ash murmured, holding me tight against his chest. “I want you even though now I’m the one pissed at you.”

Feeling his erection against my leg, my body flared hotter in response.

“That time is ours,” he went on. “No one else’s.”

“When else am I going to learn from him?”

“In a class,” he shot back immediately.

“Ash, you’re blowing it out of proportion.”

His eyes darkened, and he raised his hands to cup my face. His thumbs stroked back and forth across my skin, his touch gentle even though his eyes betrayed his annoyance. “Now you know how I feel, Spitfire.”

“Can we forget we ever fought about…” I trailed off, not knowing exactly what I was getting pissed about anymore. I guess that’s what being aroused ninety percent of the time did to a woman. Scrambled her bloody brain beyond comprehension.

“We belong to one another, Ren,” he whispered, his gaze flickering to my lips. “I’d die without you.”

I swallowed hard and allowed his nearness to overwhelm me. Darting forward, I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and shoved my hands up the back of his T-shirt. His muscles tensed as he took control of the kiss, his hands tightening around my face as he pinned me against the wall.

My body flared in response, and I rolled my hips forward, moaning as pleasure spiked through my clit and jackknifed through every nerve ending I possessed. He responded in kind by grinding harder against me, his hands running up and down my body like they didn’t know which part of me to pleasure first.

“Please,” I cried breathlessly, all of the pent up anger I’d had toward him well and truly gone.

His hands wrapped around my waist, moving upward before hitching my bra and T-shirt up over my breasts. The cool air of the office tickled on my exposed skin, but then the warmth of Ash’s mouth clamped over them, sending bolts of heat to where it mattered most…right between the legs.

He bit my nipple softly as his hands pushed my shorts and knickers down, his palms coming to rest on my ass as I kicked out of my bottoms. Then he was lifting me up into his arms, shoving me back against the wall, his crotch grinding against my exposed sex.

Wrapping my legs around him, I pulled his mouth to mine and we kissed desperately as he freed his cock from his shorts. My insides ached to be fucked hard, to be released from the pressure that had been sparked by our furious groping. I wanted to feel good, and Ash was the only one who could give me what I wanted…and what I needed. Release, completion,
forever
.

He thrust into me with a grunt, driving his cock into me possessively. Tightening my legs around him, I urged him to keep going, my hands holding his face to mine. His eyes were wild with desire as he fucked me against the wall because this was far from making love. If this was how it felt to have him after one night apart, I couldn’t even imagine the cataclysm two would do.

He pounded into me relentlessly, and all I could feel was the rising tsunami that was my orgasm. It would splinter everything in its path the moment it broke. I held onto Ash for dear life.

“
Spitfire
,” he muttered, his breathing sharp.

“Watch me,” I gasped, forcing his gaze to mine once more. “Watch me. I’m yours…always yours.”

I came hard, his onslaught only spurring me on further, and he wasn’t far behind me. He thrust, burying deep, and held, his eyes never leaving mine. I didn’t know how long we clutched one another before his lips came to rest on mine. We kissed softly, our breath mingling as our heartbeats began to slow.

“I don’t want to fight,” I murmured, running my hands through his hair.

Ash didn’t answer. He just brushed his lips against mine before setting me back onto my feet. Pulling my top into place, he sank to his knees and tugged my shorts and underwear back up before attending to his own state of disarray. I guessed we’d just well and truly christened the office. I wondered what surface was next?

“Why are you dressing me?” I muttered, leaning back against the wall. My legs were just about ready to give out on me.

“There’s still some stragglers downstairs,” he muttered. “All of this”—he rubbed his hands over my breasts—“is mine and not for other eyes. I’m not risking the dash down the hall, Spitfire.”

I rolled my eyes even as I felt a surge of ownership over him. “Ape.”

Not rising to the occasion, Ash scooped me up into his arms and just carried me from the office, down the hall and into our apartment.
He didn’t let me go until we’d reached the bedroom, where he set me gently on top of the covers.

Lying beside me, he pulled my body flush against his, laying his arm down so I could curl around him.

“Are you ready to talk yet?” I murmured.

“I just want to lie with you a minute,” he replied. “I missed you last night.”

It was code for
let me catch my breath so I can strip you naked and screw you again
, but I was still wound up.

“I don’t like the thought of you keeping something from me.” I screwed my eyes shut, my fingers tightening around his waist.

“Ren, I told you…” He sighed, his chest rising and falling with his breath.

“Is that why you asked?” I murmured, resting my head against his shoulder. “Because you’re afraid I might leave?”

“No,” he whispered. He hesitated, his jaw grinding a moment before he added, “Because someone might take you.”

“
Ash
,” I said through a heavy sigh.

He’d stayed away from me for so long because he believed he would hurt me beyond repair, and he held on so tight because he was afraid he’d screw up so bad that I’d leave him. It wasn’t until Hammer had almost taken me from him that a new fear had come to the surface. The fear of someone taking me from him.

He’d survive without me, but he’d never be the same. I could sympathize with that because it was exactly the same for me—different circumstances with the same outcome.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I murmured, clutching onto him for dear life. “No one’s gunna take me. You think I’d let them?”

His body tensed, but I didn’t dare say anything else. I just raised my head and let my lips find his. Brushing the hair from his forehead, I closed my eyes tightly as we kissed. I poured all the reassurance and love I could muster into my touch and hoped to hell that it got through to him.

We’d been solid ever since the night of the Championship at The Underground. Nothing had stood in our way, not even during the crazy months it took to build Pulse from a shell to its current glory. Not even through the bullshit that was thrown at us both for turning down the contracts from the AUFC. We were solid…until something had gotten underneath his skin. Was it just the marriage thing that had been blown out of proportion? I wasn’t so sure anymore.

The more I let the idea roll around in my mind, the more I wanted to know what had triggered this reaction in the first place
. Was it a symptom or the problem?

“Ash?” I asked, my lips brushing against his.

“Yeah?”

“You are okay, right?”

He nodded, his lips grazing against mine.

“You can tell me anything,” I whispered, my eyes searching the unknown depths of his.

“I know, Spitfire. I know.”

“You don’t have to do anything alone anymore.”

In that moment, it felt like his soul spoke to mine, that it reached out and coiled around my own, spreading warmth through my entire body. Together we could do anything, be anything and take on the entire world.

As his lips met mine once more, it seemed within our grasp. All he needed to do was to believe it just as much as I did.