Then he’s peeling my clothes off—my T-shirt, my bra, kissing every inch of skin he bares, like he said he’d do. His lips are soft, the scabbed-over wound rough, and when he licks my br**sts I arch into his mouth. He lays me back on the sofa and pulls down my leggings and panties all in one move.

He bends over me, kissing his way down, brushing his lips over the scar on my belly, on my thigh.

“Ash.” I need to feel his body on mine.

He looks up, his eyes hooded. As if he’s read my mind, he drags his T-shirt off, revealing that droolworthy chest of his. A bruise in his side catches my eye, but he starts unbuttoning his jeans, drawing my gaze to the fine dark trail leading down.

He slides his jeans down his h*ps along with his briefs, and good god, who could blame a girl for losing her train of thought? I’ve seen him before, but this time somehow feels different. There’s no hesitation as he bares himself to me and reaches down to stroke himself, his eyes closing briefly.

God, he’s drop-dead gorgeous—from his short dark hair to his muscled chest to his flushed cock.

Then his eyes open, locking on mine, and he gives me one of those devastating, sexy half-smiles of his. He produces a condom from somewhere, deftly tears the package open and slips it on. I want to tell him I’m on the pill, have been for a long while.

But he leans over me, stretching his long body over mine, and my mind goes sort of blank. His arousal presses, so hot, against my belly.

“You have no idea how pretty you look, n*ked underneath me,” he says softly, brushing his mouth over my cheek, along my jaw. “Are you sure you want this?”

“I want you,” I say, winding my arms around his neck. “But there’s something I have to tell you.”

He stills. “What is it?”

God, this is embarrassing. “I’ve never gone this far before.”

His gaze goes wide. “You serious?”

Heat washes up my face. Telling him I’ve secretly waited for him just sounds so very lame. “Yes, on both accounts. I’m serious. And I want you, now.”

Right as I’m starting to panic that I’ve ruined the moment, his eyes warm up. “I’ll be careful. I’m glad you told me.”

And then he’s pressing into me. He’s whispering my name and then he gives a little sudden push, filling me up. It’s shocking and painful and amazing at the same time. He kisses my neck, my br**sts, my mouth until I relax again and the pain begins to fade.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice strained as he holds very still.

I nod.

He exhales and shifts, pulling out, pushing back inside. “You feel so good. So f**king good.”

With each drag of his hardness inside me, the pleasure mounts—a throbbing, maddening pulse low in my body, a pressure rising to a breathless crest.

This is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. My h*ps lift and I clutch his back, drawing him deeper inside.

“Christ, Auds, f**king hell.” His teeth grit. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Good. Because that’s exactly what he’s doing to me.

Chapter Sixteen

Asher

I’m going to come here and now. Holding back isn’t an option—and yet I have to. I want to make it good for her. Shit, it’s her first time.

So I do the only thing I can think of: I pull out a bit and grab my dick, pressing the base and gritting my teeth to stave off the inevitable.

“Ash?” Her eyes are wide, a bit confused. She’s spread out beneath me, so utterly kissable.

So that’s what I do next: I kiss her again, kiss her rosy ni**les, her neck, find her mouth.

Then I thrust inside her again, and f**king hell, every time it feels better. My balls are drawn up so tight it hurts and the pressure behind them is unbelievable. She’s velvety soft, hot and tight.

She moans and rolls her hips, robbing me of breath. Sparks shoot from my dick up my spine, setting me on fire.

“Auds!” I rock inside her as deep as I can and I distantly hear her cry out. She clenches around me and that’s my undoing. “Oh god, Auds.”

Oh f**k, I’m coming, her orgasm triggering mine. Fireworks go off behind my eyelids.

I said I’d make her cry out my name, and in the end I’m the one doing it, saying her name over and over as the pressure crests and erupts, making me jerk and shake.

My heart’s pounding its way out of my chest. I fall on top of her, my arms like rubber, as I draw breath after breath.

She shifts underneath me and I swallow a moan, still trapped inside her. Jesus, I’m crushing her. I lift myself on my elbows and look down at her face.

She’s smiling. “That was...”

“Awesome?” I wink and she laughs.

A wave of protectiveness washes over me. I’ll do anything to save that laughter, that look of bliss in her eyes.

“It was awesome, yes.” She trails her fingertips over my mouth and I nibble at them, making her squeal. That makes her clench again around me and I groan, my eyes rolling back in my head with aftershocks.

“One sec.” I gently pull out of her and remove the condom. My legs feel like jelly, but I stumble to the bathroom and dispose of it before returning to her.

My ribs ache, and my jaw throbs from the fight the night before, but I feel so good I don’t care. My body still hums with pleasure, and there’s a weight off my chest.

She came back to me. Hope burns so bright it pushes the doubts away.

“Do I remember correctly—did you say you brought food?” My stomach growls at the thought.

She snickers. “What a romantic thing to say, Ash.”

I shrug and smirk. “I can make it romantic.”

She looks doubtful, and yeah, maybe romantic isn’t the right word—but when I pull her to sit between my legs and feed her spicy fish balls and curried noodles she seems to enjoy it.

She also wiggles a lot, grinding her sweet ass against me, making me hard all over again. Distracting me.

“What are you doing for New Year’s?” she asks later, breaking the spell.

“I have no plans,” I mutter.

“Then spend it with me.”

A sweet ache forms in my chest. I live day to day, and shouldn’t make promises. But I do it anyway because there’s nothing I want more. “Okay.”

She smiles and twists around to kiss me. “I have to go. Dakota is back today and we’re meeting to study together.”

A reminder of how different her life is from mine. I watch her pull on her clothes, going a little cross-eyed trying to see if her ni**les show through her pink bra.

“Want to come over tonight?” She tugs down her long sweater. “Ash?”

“Hm? Oh.” I have to fight tonight. God knows how I’ll emerge from the club. Showing up on her doorstep covered in bruises and blood won’t go down so nicely. “I can’t. I have to be somewhere.”

“Where?” she asks softly.

“Just somewhere. It’s a club, called The Bulldog.” Why the hell am I telling her this? “Need to take care of something.”

She’s worrying her lower lip with her small, white teeth. So sexy. But her eyes are worried. “Okay. Want me to come with you?”

God, no. I shiver. What we’ve done—the fact she’s come to me, the awesome sex—is that a sign I should talk to her after all? Tell her where I’m planning to be tonight and the reasons for it?

She’s come and stayed.

Maybe it’s time to stop running? She says she cares, and she’s showing me just that. I have to trust it, trust the feeling. Trust her.

“Ash.” She’s looking at me, all worried-like.

Sweat sluices down my back. Okay. I’ll tell her. My heart trips, then starts again.

Then her damn cell phone buzzes. Tearing her gaze from me, she fishes it from her huge handbag and a frown draws her brows together. “Crap, I’m late. Dakota is waiting for me outside my apartment. Gotta go.”

I deflate. “Yeah.” Speaking of signs...

“Just come over. Come now, with me.”

I shake my head.

Her green eyes glimmer. “Ash... Please don’t go tonight.”

I freeze. She knows? “Why?”

“Just... stay out of fights.”

I groan, run my fingers through my hair. “I can’t.” I can’t not go. I can’t lie. I can’t hide. She’ll know the moment she sees me tomorrow that I’ve been fighting.

Her expression shutters. She moves quietly away from me. She grabs her stuff and opens the door of the apartment. Hesitates. Her slender back is tense. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I have to.”

Knowing I’m telling the truth doesn’t help one f**king bit when she leaves without saying goodbye.

***

I’m about to leave for The Bulldog, when a key turns in the lock and the door opens.

Erin. Not my biggest fan. She wrinkles her pretty nose when she sees me.

Good thing I’m dressed, I guess.

“This place smells like sex,” she spits and marches off to her room, slamming her door shut.

Ow. I go to open the window, air the room.

Fuck, the look of disappointment on Audrey’s face is branded in my memory. I don’t know what to do: Fighting is the only way I can see of getting out of the mire, and the one thing that seems to tick Audrey off.

Violence. Can’t say I blame her.

Talking to her is gonna be like pulling teeth. Shame and no small amount of panic roll around in my mind. Hey, Auds, know what? I have no place to stay, and no money, and did you know I haven’t even finished school? And right now the only way for me to get money is fighting in an underground fight club, an illegal place with drugs and betting, run by the Russian Chicago mafia?

She’ll probably run the other way. Because sex’s one thing, but she doesn’t know shit about me. To her I’m still the boy she used to play with in her neighborhood, the boy who kissed her in high school.

That boy’s gone.

I grab my things, stuff them into my duffel bag, rub a hand over my face. Time to go.

Walking through the cold, snow-covered streets, I think about the year that’s about to come to an end. Nothing’s changed. My life’s still a mess. The heavy feeling in my chest feels more like fear than fury, but I think of my dad, of my brother who left me behind, and anger comes rushing back.

By the time I reach the club, I seethe with it. I’m ready to fight.

And fight I do. They give me a different opponent this time, a huge black guy with arms like tree trunks. He comes at me like a wall, and crashes into me, throwing me down on my back. I barely have a chance to roll before he pins me, and then I scramble back to my feet. I’m quicker than he is, leading him in a deadly dance around the cage. I dodge his punches and kicks, keep my guard high. Take some pounding. My arms will be black and blue come tomorrow, and I even take a hit to my already bruised ribs.

I hold out and keep back.

Until I see my opening. I move into the guy’s guard and throw an uppercut that snaps his head back and knocks him down. Then I’m on him, on his chest, punching his face.

Crimson fountains. Familiar sickly sweet smell of blood and sweat.

Hands pulling me back, up, lifting my hand in victory.

This is bad. This isn’t lessening my anger; it’s sinking me into bitterness and more pain.

Suck it up, Ash. What other choice do you have?

“You got one more fight,” Johnny says, pulling me to the side. “Do you have one more fight in you?”

“Sure.”

“And can you do this every night of your life? When your bones have been broken more times than you can count, after so many concussions your brain isn’t straight?”

What is he going on about? Is he serious, telling me this stuff right after a fight, still inside the cage?