The Tornado - Missy Blue

The Tornado by Missy Blue

Copyright © Missy Blue 2015 The right of Missy Blue to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase as additional copy of each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication To my readers… I hope The Tornado sweeps you off your feet.

Table of Contents Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author

Prologue I BREATHED IN and out and tried to keep myself from punching the wall behind her head. I didn't know what the hell I had done to deserve this woman tearing my world apart. I’d just risked everything—everything! All the training, all the blood, sweat and tears, it didn’t matter in the end. I had just given up a two mill purse, for Christ’s sake. For my little Nutcracker. I didn’t regret a second of it. I only regretted not saving her. I stared down at her and she was leaning against the wall, hand on hip, her dark eyes somehow managing to blaze heat when their very color belied any warmth. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were set in a thin, hard line. She was about five-feet nothing, but at that moment, she looked much taller, her anger and passion lending height to her small frame. As I looked at her lips, her eyes dropped so I couldn't read her expression and she ran her tongue lightly over her bottom lip, then bit down. She moved her eyes back up to me, all that white heat suddenly gone and replaced suddenly by something else. I swore I could hear a breathless sigh escape her lips as they parted ever so slightly. My fists clenched at my sides as my body responded to her. My breath was coming faster and I knew what it meant. I was no stranger to desire. Had felt it many times with her. The only thing that was foreign about it was the fact that I didn't feel in control at all. Unlike the nights I’d spent with her, this time, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking her. I felt like a snake about to come uncoiled. I could feel it swirling into the pit of my stomach. As if it was not a part of my body, my hand moved up of its own volition to smooth her hair back from her neck. I dipped my head down, letting my eyes slide closed and knowing as our lips met, I would ignite from the inside out and I would incinerate on the spot. I imagined tasting her would be like warm sugar and vanilla, all sweetness and velvety softness. I imagined being with her in any way would be like sewing myself inside of a cocoon. Safe and suffocating, all at the same goddamn time. I knew this, because right then, it was getting harder and harder. And all this began, when she was just a boy.

Chapter One HIM Three months before… I WATCHED AS Loner hurried into my gym, went straight to the bag, and got to work. Like he always did. He’s been coming to the gym for three months. Every single night. Without fail. He was definitely shy. Never talked to no one. He always kept his head down, only focusing on the task at hand. And when he was through, he would wipe the bag down, pull off his wraps, and head out as quickly as he’d come in. Poor kid. Probably getting picked on at school. Loner never talked to me. In fact, it felt like he went out of his way not to look in my direction. No one’s really sure what the kid's real name is either. We just refer to him as Loner. I didn’t keep strong tabs on our clients. Even with the superinflux of new business—thanks to my sudden and reluctant rise to fame—all the guys knew each other on some level or another. It was getting a little weird now, and some of the guys weren’t liking the fact that this kid thought he was too good for them to talk with. Something needed to be done. It was time to break the ice. I walked on over. “Hey, kid. Wanna spar with someone?” I asked. “It could help with—” Loner dropped his head and turned his back on me, scampering away before I could even finish my damn sentence. I grunted. Think that was the first time someone had snubbed me. I figured it really didn't matter if the kid wanted to talk or not, wanted to spar or not. He paid his thirty-five dollars every month without fail. But curiosity always got the best of me. I headed into my office, and went through all the applications. I figured the kid had to be Jules Mucciarone. It was the only name I didn't recognize and one I couldn't immediately put a face to. Not that I'd been able to do that—to see the kid's face, anyway. The kid, Jules, always came dressed in a baggy hoodie with the sleeves cut off, over an oversized T-shirt with sleeves that went down to skinny elbows and baggy sweatpants. The large hoods on his sweatshirts were always pulled up, and there was always the brim of a baseball hat sticking out from under the hood, pulled down low over his face. So low, I

didn't understand how he was able to do any bag work. How was it possible for the kid to work out in so many heavy layers? Fifteen minutes into my own workouts and I’m in gym shorts and nothing else. Despite the kid's anti-social behavior, he was a little beast on the bags. He moved with accuracy, precision, and was lightning fast. I didn't have to be on the receiving end of those punches to know they were brutal. I noticed he had a certain rare grace to his movements too. For a skinny twig, Loner seemed to have some brute strength and skill. I wondered if he could be profitable in some way. I planned to ask the kid later if he’d ever contemplated real training and real competing for a real purse. Heading into the office, I sat down and picked up the mail on the desk. They were mostly bills, but a large glossy envelope caught my eye, and despite the fact that it was addressed to Blaise Colton, I tore it open, pulling out a thick piece of glossy cardstock. Bradley Wilcox, the creator of Sparta, was hosting another tournament. It was an invitation to the middleweight MMA tourney, Ithaca. My eyes dropped a little lower, taking in the details of the tournament. It was to be held in New York in three months. It was going to be a winner-take-all scenario—if you felt you had the stuff, the mettle, then it might just be for you. At the bottom of the flyer I stopped, my eyes settling on the most important detail of the entire event. ‘Two million dollar purse.’ “Fuck me,” I whispered, my eyes widening. I eyed it over and over, pursing my lips as my brows drew together. Since my first fight, I remained undefeated and earned good cash. I had endorsement deals thrown at me from every direction but I always turned them down. The guys called me fucking nuts for doing it. But I wasn't into all that shit. Didn’t want the fame. Didn’t want the glory. Didn’t fucking deserve the glory. And every week some reporter was calling me up for an interview. I didn't even know where half these assholes got my number, but it’d gotten bad enough that I'd had to change my phone number twice. Interviews were simply out of the question. And if Marty White tried calling me one more time, I would hunt him down and cut his damn hands off, so he couldn’t no more. That was one reporter I’d be damn grateful for to see six-feet-under. My eyes flicked over the purse again. If I won this, and I was confident I would, I could send Bethany enough to set her and the kids up for good. I could finally feel like I'd made good on my promise to Gable—God rest his soul. I swore I’d always keep my promise to him. I sighed, leaning back in the chair to slam a tack through the invite into the corkboard on the wall behind. Always.

I pushed away from the desk and rolled my head around on my neck. I'd done the manager thing long enough for the day. Now, I was getting back into fighter mode. I wrapped my hands quickly and headed out of the office, flicking off the lights and shutting the door behind me. I waved off my sparring partner and headed for the bags in the corner, selecting my favorite one and setting to work. After about fifteen minutes I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye and saw a slim figure sidle up into the area of the bags. Loner. Probably took guts to come train near me. Guess he decided it wasn’t worth not training. Got more respect for the kid then. I could be a scary bastard when I wanted to be. I set to work on the bag and I could hear sharp exhales of breath on every strike as the kid started to pummel the bag. I watched for a moment before returning to my own bag. Gotta remember to talk to that kid about competitions tonight, I thought, then began pounding away at my bag again. When closing time came, I stood by the door, leaning against the frame with my hands in my pockets, waiting for Loner to finish up. The kid breezed past me with a pair of large white headphones over his hood. "Hey, kid," I called. "Macaroni!" I said his last name wrong, but I didn’t have a clue how to pronounce it. Even so, he knew I was calling him. But Loner just kept right on walking, heading in the general direction of the train station. I shook my head. Now that was fucking rude.

Chapter Two Her “JEWEL!” Ruby’s voice floated from the kitchen, tucked away in the back of my familyowned Italian café. "What up, doe?" I called over my shoulder, shoving the sleeves of my hooded sweatshirt up my forearms, and then glanced at my watch. “It's ten minutes before closing; no one else is coming in today." "In a hurry?" Ruby asked, slightly sarcastic. "Off to the gym to see your sexy famous fighter boyfriend? Oh, wait. My bad, I forgot. He has no idea you exist because you've decided to become a transvestite." Ruby was unfortunately, my best friend. She’d become our baker four months ago, just six months after my family and I had relocated to Pittsburgh from New York. Ruby was quirky and funny, with long natural-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was drop-dead-gorgeous and always had a smile on her face. "Hey," I warned, pointing a finger at Ruby, moving away. "Mind your own business." "I hope you can knock off this secretive shit soon," Ruby said after me. "You not being able to wear nail polish is truly disgusting." "Pretty sure someone there might take issue with a guy who has painted nails," I called out. “Anyway, I need to get out quick because I need to train at the gym before my shift tonight at Trinity’s, and then up early to teach my ballet class at the YMCA.” I sighed. Balancing three jobs was hard. But I never complained. It would be worth it in the end. Each shift brought me closer to my dream of opening my own dance studio. Haunted by the trauma of my past, I never forgot how close I’d come to losing my dream, and everything, last year. The horrific experience I’d been through had cost me any kind of professional dance career, but it couldn't completely ebb the passion I had for dance, not really, not ever. "You should see this place, Ruby. Nothing but testosterone." "Oh, I’ve fantasized plenty," Ruby replied with a wink. “What I wouldn’t give to go a few rounds with Asher ‘The Hunk’ Prince. Damn, that boy is something. Bet he’s got some smooth moves, if you know what I mean.” She winked at me again. “Ruby!” I admonished, feeling my cheeks flush. “Is there something wrong with

your eye? It keeps twitching.” Ruby just narrowed her eyes at me and I shook my head slightly. “Anyway, he’s really scary in person. Always seems to growl or grunt at everyone. Always seems really pissed off.” "Which only serves my overall curiosity as to why you want to go there in the first place? I know we don't discuss the past, but I know enough by now to know that what you went through involved a man. Why put yourself through that?" Memories flooded me instantly. Memories of terror and dark, fear and sweat, hands on my skin, pain radiating through my body. The broom I was holding clattered to the floor as anxiety threatened to overwhelm me. Ruby rushed toward me, her face instantly apologetic. "Here, sit down," she murmured, guiding me to a chair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." She watched as I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling deep breaths through my nose as my entire body tightened. "Do you have your meds?" I gave a terse nod, wrapping my arms around myself. "In my bag." Ruby immediately went to my messenger bag, hanging on the coat rack, and rifled through it, coming up with the medication bottle and popping the lid. She’d done this enough times to know exactly where in the bag I kept my meds, exactly how many to give me, and how much water I needed to drink. It was automatic now. Ruby grabbed me a cup of water and brought it over, dropping two anti-anxiety pills into my outstretched palms. I washed them back with the water immediately. "To answer your question," I began after a long pause, my voice steady but low, "I guess it's my own personal form of therapy. As long as no one pays me any mind, I can be around them and still do what I have to do. It helps me focus under pressure." I took another sip of water. "Besides, the guy that co-owns and manages it, is an MMA star. Even if I don't spar with him or even talk to him, I can still watch and study his movements. So essentially, I'm still learning from the best." "And it doesn't hurt he's got a perfect, gorgeous face and a sizzling hot ‘comeand-eat-me’ body, I'm sure," Ruby added dryly. Even if someone wasn't an MMA fan, Asher ‘The Tornado’ Prince was a hometown celebrity for sure. Everyone knew what he looked like and how he'd risen to notoriety. The honorable ex-Marine, who came out of nowhere like a tornado, and tore apart any competitor that dared to stand before him in the ring. He would turn any man in his wake into dust. And then there was all that drama in the media. Allegedly, he’d had an affair with a fallen comrade’s wife. A Marine who had apparently died saving Asher Prince’s life in combat. But I didn’t like to listen to gossip. And Ruby was right. He was the hottest man I’d ever laid my eyes on. The kind that made your body set on fire in an instant. I finally allowed myself a tiny smile. "No," I conceded. "That doesn't hurt at

all." MAKING SURE MY long straight dark hair was still tucked under my Yankees cap, I peeked around the bag I’d been working on for the last hour. I glanced from under the brim of my baseball hat to watch the best at work in the ring. Asher Prince was shaking out his hands, facing off against his sparring partner. They’d been fighting for an hour, at least. I watched as he lifted his fists into a guard position, almost casually, and focused intensely on his opponent. I tilted my head and watched his feet. He moved with incredibly quick, confident movements. He landed a kick, leaping past his doubled-over opponent. Then, with a quick shuffle of his feet, he switched his direction, casually yanking up a pant leg as he resumed his guard position. Watching him in his prime, my tummy fluttered at the buzz whipping through my body. I shook my head, my mouth opening slightly. Asher Prince was a beast, but there was something so lithe, so sure, almost graceful about his movements that made him so breathtaking to watch. He was grinning at his partner, who had just landed a jab to Asher’s chin. It was clear Asher was enjoying the moment. It was nice to see his face lit up. He was normally so cantankerous and bad-tempered, without a smile in sight. I had watched him fight and win the Sparta tournament, on the TV, and I recalled how he’d always looked so grim, the hatred practically radiating off him as he would charge his opponents, take them down, then burst out of the ring and stalk away from the arena in rage. Now, it was like night and day; he was smiling, laughing a little, and his handsome face looked peaceful and calm. I’d never really looked him in the face before, not in person, although the opportunity presented itself every single time I left the gym after closing. He would always be standing by the door, toothpick in his mouth, hands in his pockets, waiting patiently for me to finish up. I would always keep my head down and brush right past him. Last night, when I’d been wearing my headphones, I thought I’d heard him yell out my name, but I hadn't been about to blow my own cover. So I ignored him, sprinting to the train station in fear. But the curiosity at what he, Asher ‘The Tornado’ Prince, would have to say to me, a nobody, was picking at me. Did he know my secret? Was he annoyed I stayed past closing, keeping him there too? Had I missed some hidden fee? I studied Asher as he jumped out of the ring and headed toward the office. Taking in the symmetry of his face, his unbelievably full lips, his steely blue eyes, I stifled a hot shiver coursing through my body. I knew from seeing him on TV that he was a very good-looking guy. But here, seeing him in person, although not up

close, I could tell that the camera hadn't done him any justice. He was a god. My eyes slipped lower, and for a moment, I indulged myself by taking all of him in. His golden, heavily muscled torso was glistening. His broad shoulders and arms were littered in a variety of black tattoos. I studied the ridges of his abdomen, his well-developed pectoral muscles, his thick lats, his strong, defined arms, before he finally vanished into his office. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that he could sweep the floor of the gym with every guy in it. "Give it up, kid," a grizzly voice said behind me, accompanied by two other voices snickering. "You'll never be that good and I’d never waste Prince’s time trying to make you halfway decent." The only men I was comfortable around were my family. Dealing with the opposite sex on any other level was difficult, which was why I’d insisted on taking register duties at the café. It would force me to re-engage with people— with men. And it was why I went to Blaise's Gym almost every single night. Determined to not lie down and die, I wanted to fight back the darkness plaguing me. I wanted to be normal again. I resisted the instinctive urge to jerk my head over my shoulder in the direction of the voice. Instead, I glanced to the side slightly, mostly catching the side of my hood. Whoever had spoken must have seen my slight movement, because he continued on. "Hey, punk. I see you in here all the time at these bags, never talkin' to nobody, actin' like you're better than everyone, when really you're just a skinny little prick who's just wastin' his time." At the café, it was easier. It was a friendly, family atmosphere. People just wanted coffee and pastries and that was that. Many of the men frequenting the café were regulars, and I was mostly comfortable, if still a bit wary, with them. The gym was totally different. It was nothing but men, and I had no one to protect me but myself. It was an atmosphere of violence, although there was a sign in the window—and the contract clearly stated that any and all fighting would take place in the ring—that said Blaise's Gym would not tolerate any other violence of any sort, for any reason. But the testosterone was thick, so heavy I could practically smell it, and there was always a sense of danger here. There was a pause. I had to keep silent. I listened, my body tensing as my heart rate accelerated and my stomach clenched with fear and anxiety. Too close. They’re too close. My fists balled involuntarily. He’s too close. These men were tough, hard, strong. These weren't prissy pencil-necks; they were here to train and be trained by the best, and they sparred intensely. I’d never seen the ring free of bloodstains before leaving for the night. There were always handfuls of guys walking around with lumped up, cut faces.

What the hell had I been thinking coming here? I heard the sound of one rubber-soled shoe impacting against the ground, closer to my direction, and that was all it took. I darted forward, but one of them grabbed me by the shoulder and jerked me back, hard. My heart slammed into my throat as I clutched myself to prevent the tremors of anxiety from taking me over the edge and into a full-blown panic-attack. Too fucking close.

Chapter Three Him “DUDE, I DON’T know," Connor insisted. It was late at night, I was tired after sparring, I was at the end of my patience, and the numbers weren't adding up. "Well, there's at least twelve people who didn't pay by the fifth, and today's the twenty-eighth," I said, bringing my fingers up to my temples. I recalled the good old days where I could just pummel the shit out of a bag or some poor fuck's face in the ring and not have to worry about shit like this. Then I remembered what my paychecks looked like these days and gritted my teeth. "We're getting ready to bill again for next month and they haven't paid. Didn't you mark off who paid and who didn't on the list?" Connor slowly shook his head. "I just collected," he replied. "We gotta find a better way to do this," I muttered. Sighing, I chewed at my toothpick, frowning toward the eagle globe anchor paperweight on my desk. My eyes lit across the ‘Semper Fi’ scrawled on the base of the weight. "So what’d you want me to do?" Connor continued. “Fuck knows, just—” A sudden, loud shouting pierced the air from the gym. My head snapped toward the door. The fuck? I was used to fights breaking out in the gym, despite the sign on the door. With all that testosterone flying around, and all the guys thinking they were bigger, badder, and tougher than the next, it tended to happen. It reminded me of my days as a Marine. Between basic, random orders, and deployments, it was the same thing—all that testosterone in the air caught up to the guys and exploded. Fuck knows I’d been involved in a few brawls myself. Nowadays, I was almost always the one to break them up, and it was always a fucking pain in the ass. But rules were rules, and I was ‘Boss’ now. If they wanted to take it in the ring, that was fine by me. Anything else, and that shit had to stop. "You figure it out," I barked at Connor, yanking the door open. "And I expect you to come up with a better tracking system. You can't just take cash, man, it doesn't work like that." Another shout echoed in the gym. "Better go handle that," Connor said, stacking some papers together. I stopped in my tracks and glared at him. "You better handle that," I snapped, stabbing my toothpick in Connor's direction. I shoved it back between my teeth, using my tongue to shuffle it around to the other side as I headed out of the office

and into the gym. I walked toward the small cluster of bodies near the punch bags. I couldn't see what was going on, but it didn't look like anyone was throwing any punches, at least not yet. I didn't want to get involved unless physical violence actually occurred. When it came to words, they were all grown men; let them handle their own hurt feelings. I had a zero-tolerance attitude when it came to violence outside the ring. And I hated fucking bullies. The group of guys had their backs to me, so I leaned inconspicuously against a corner post of the ring in the middle of the room. Flipping my baseball cap around so it sat loosely on my head, with the brim flipped to the back, I folded my arms over my chest and tucked my hands under my biceps. I cocked my head, trying to listen to what they were saying. From what I could tell, it was Brody, Jonas and Karl. I couldn't remember last names but each of them had sparred with me at least once, sometimes twice. "You always walk around in here like you got a little fuckin' attitude problem or something. Punk!" Karl was yelling, his voice heavily East Coast. “You think you're better than us or somethin'?" "Karl, chill," Brody laughed. His accent was distinctly Bostonian. "He probably has this attitude walkin' around here 'cos all his body mass is in his dick and it's bigger than yours." "Shut the fuck up, Brody," Karl shot back, before turning back to the object of his wrath, which was still concealed from my view. Karl and his friends all had huge, overdeveloped forms. "Listen, you little fuck, this is a family atmosphere in here and we're all supposed to get along. You're throwin' all kinds of negative vibes and shit around in the air and stirrin' things up. And I personally don't like the way you fuckin' think you're too good to speak to anyone in here!" Karl’s hand flew out in a push, and I straightened up when I heard a little answering grunt. "The skinny fuck’s too good to talk to you now, Karl," Jonas snickered. And then it finally fucking dawned on me who they were angry with. That poor kid. Loner. I took a step forward when I suddenly saw a small hard fist fly out, knocking Karl right in the face. Karl’s head snapped back sharply as he shouted in pain. I was amazed at the sight of blood gushing from his nose. The kid's head was down, chin tucked, his fists up next to his face in a tight guard. His eyes were shielded by the brim of his Yankees cap. He was tense, probably waiting to see who would make the next move. But no one was gonna make the next move. No one but me.

"Now, that wasn't very fuckin' nice!" Karl bellowed, stepping closer. I broke into a run, but dammit, it wasn't quite fast enough. I heard a ripping sound pierce the air and came to an abrupt stop. For a moment, I stared, unsure exactly what to make of what I was seeing. Karl had grabbed the front of the kid's shirt, no doubt intending to haul him in close to deck him, and Loner had immediately jerked away. The kid's T-shirt was ripped, it tore right down the middle, and my confused mind swirled as everyone, including the kid, froze. Under the tatters of a torn T-shirt, I saw a flash of smooth, soft-looking, naturally tanned skin. The abdomen was flat and softly muscled, not hard with ridges like a man's. Like a woman's. My eyes rose to just above the exposed stomach, seeing layers of tightly wrapped duct tape over what appeared to be a black sports bra. Jonas reached out and slapped the brim of the Yankees cap from the bottom, pushing it off the kid's head as his hood fell off. The cap fell to the floor as a long, dark brown ponytail fell past the kid's shoulders. Fuck me. My mouth fell open. What I’d presumed to be a skinny teenage boy was actually a slender young woman. A really beautiful woman. One who had an athletic body, but who was rather curvy too; I could see that, even with the duct tape. Her T-shirt was torn open past her hip, and I could see where her waist narrowed above her low-slung sweatpants before softly curving out in a shape that was uniquely, utterly feminine. Christ, she was stunning. "It's a bitch!" Jonas shouted. "A fuckin' girl! What the fuck?!" "Damn, she looks good, though," Brody snickered. Her frightened warm brown eyes met my shocked ones, for just a moment, before she tried to whirl around to flee. But Karl’s hand, bloody from holding his nose, shot out and gripped her upper arm. An upper arm that I’d previously written off as the skinny limb of a boy, but that I could now see was the softly curving arm of a woman, light with defined triceps and biceps. Her eyes flashed like a caged animal and she jerked uselessly in Karl’s iron grip. It was enough to snap me out of shock. "Now, now," Karl was hissing at her. "That's not very fuckin' nice of you! Snuff me then leave? I don't think so, Princess...not now. Damn, you do look fuckin' good! Brody wasn't lying—" Karl jumped almost a foot in the air when my hand slammed heavily down on his shoulder. "Let. Her. Go," I said through gritted teeth.

"Prince, man, it's a fuckin' chick sneakin' around here!" Karl said, as though by way of explanation. "I don't give a fucking rat's ass," I thundered back, and pushed him so hard, he fell to the floor, his grip on her finally gone. "Told you to let her fucking go." The girl stumbled back, her eyes still wide with fear. "All three of you pricks, get your shit and leave!" I roared. "Aw, come on, man," Jonas said, aiding Karl back up to his feet. "We weren't gonna do nothin' to her—" "Bullshit," I growled. "I don't give a fuck if you were gonna take her dancing. Get the fuck out and don't let me see you back at this gym again! Or I’ll pummel you so bad, I promise, you three will be leaving here as girls. You get me?" "You gonna kick us out over a bitch?" Karl seethed. "Did you know about this or somethin', Prince?" I took two steps before I was nose to nose with Karl. He cowered slightly and winced, feeling the anger and violence radiating off me, despite being much broader than me. "If I gotta tell you fucks to get out of my gym one more time, I'm not gonna be asking so politely next time," I said in a low voice, my blue eyes, dark with menace, boring into Karl’s. "Now—get the fuck out of my goddamn gym!" They didn't need to be told again. They grabbed their shit and all but ran out of Blaise's, without one backward look to either me or to the girl. She had sunk to the floor and was staring after them, her brown eyes still huge with fear and shock. She was like a deer caught in headlights. Timid. Frightened. I shifted my weight awkwardly as I glanced at her. I didn’t have a fucking clue what to do. After a moment, I took a hesitant step in her direction. "Miss, you okay?" I asked quietly, not wanting to further freak her out. She continued to stare past me as though I hadn't spoken. "Miss?" Finally her eyes shifted to me, but even as we locked gazes, I could tell she was still staring right through me, her eyes wide and glassy. I took in the features of her face then. She was young. Eighteen to twenty-one, I guessed. Her face was unlined and soft, youthful-looking, but her eyes held a pool of knowing, of experience, of life events she’d seen that no one should. Her skin was smooth, creamy, olive, with high, rounded cheekbones and a sensual mouth, pouty with pillow-like pink lips. Dark, silky brows arched away from her large, almondshaped eyes. She would have been beautiful if she didn't have a look of such intense fear on her face. I slowly crouched down until I was eye-level with her. Her eyes began to sharpen, coming into focus on me as she blinked rapidly—long, thick dark eyelashes fluttering on her cheeks like the beating of butterfly wings.

"Miss?" I tried again in the same quiet tone. I extended a hand toward her. Her eyes lit on my hand, and widened. She sucked in a breath and recoiled from me violently. "Don't touch me!" she said hoarsely, and I quickly backed up, lifting my hands in the air. "Okay, okay," I said, calm and quiet. "Sorry. You're all right." I backed up several more paces and kept my hands in the air as she scrambled to her feet, gasping, clutching her tattered T-shirt to her body as she fumbled to zip up her sweatshirt. She turned to grab her cap from the floor, and I caught a flash of her eyes, filling with tears as she bit her lip, her face crumpling. Her expression made my heart wrench, made me feel like shit. It was common knowledge that women didn't come here, but there was no rule against it. In fact, I'd hoped that everyone would come to the gym, men and women alike, and learn something. I was big into women learning how to defend themselves. I’d grown up watching my mother get beaten and hurt by my old man. Now, the only woman that had ever come to the gym, had not only felt it necessary to disguise herself, but had ended up getting assaulted anyway. I felt like a total asshole. Why would she ever want to come back? Why would any woman want to come here? And, for fuck's sake, now I might have to deal with the cops should this woman decide to file a complaint. I definitely didn't need those problems. The Press and Marty White would fucking eat that shit up. She brushed past me in a flash, even as I turned after her. "Hey," I called out. "I'm really sorry about that. Let me help you out. Can I call someone for you?" "You can go to Hell!" she threw over her shoulder, before she shoved through the entrance doors and disappeared from my gym. "What the hell was that?" Connor asked, slightly out of breath from running out of the office. "Who the fuck was that?" "That was the kid, the skinny kid—Loner. Macaroni," I answered. "Except he’s really a she, and she just got assaulted on our property by Karl, Brody and Jonas. Fuck." "What?" Connor asked, confused. "Like a tranny?” I shook my head in anger. It wasn’t the time for jokes. “Where’re they now?" he asked, starting to take this seriously. "Kicked them the fuck out," I growled. "You think I'd keep them around?" "What about her?" Connor said, jerking his chin in the direction the girl had gone—escaped. "What if she tells the cops or something?" "Thought about that," I replied. "I'm more concerned with the fact that she’s too scared to ever come back here. I feel like fucking shit, man. This shit should never have happened, not on my watch. That ain't the kind of place I want to run."

"Think her name's really Jules Macaroni?" Connor asked. "Shit, who knows?" I said gruffly. "She felt the need to dress up like a dude. She probably would’ve used a fake name." "Macaroni," Connor repeated aloud, muttering it again to myself. "Macaroni." "What?" I grunted. "Nah, it just sounds familiar for some reason," Connor mused, rubbing his chin. He snapped his fingers as I sighed. "That's it. Café Macaroni, over on Liberty Avenue. Italian family place, it's like a coffee shop and bakery." "Think it's her place?" I asked doubtfully. "Maybe her family's or somethin'. Not that I know how many Macaroni’s are in Pittsburgh." "Hmm," I said, folding my arms. "Who knows." I shook my head. I didn't like the idea of anyone getting assaulted at my gym. It just churned my guts to know that it’d happened under my watch. I just couldn't get over the absolute fear in her eyes; it was evident in every line of her. Reminded me of Mom... Nobody deserved to be scared like that, especially not a woman. Especially not her, when she’d never done anything to no one. Had just minded her own goddamn business. I wished I didn't have the self-restraint and control I did then. I would’ve loved to have rearranged those three assholes' fucking faces. But giving into my rage was a sure-fire way of being disqualified from Ithaca, even before it began. She wasn’t ever coming back. Who fucking would? I knew I should cut my losses, hoped to do better next time, but I just couldn't let it go. I wouldn’t sleep until I fixed this. I had to find her.

Her I WAS IN the kitchen, filling the canisters with more whipped cream, while Ruby baked some cupcakes. She seemed to be able to sense my moodiness and need for quiet, and she understood when I‘d told her what happened at the gym a few weeks ago. I’d thought about finding another gym, but the incident was like being hit by a speeding train, and there was no way I’d put myself through that again. Suddenly, the bell over the door tinkled. Ruby glanced at me. My hands were covered in whipped cream. "I got it," she said, walking through the door. I shrugged and continued working, only glancing up when Ruby re-entered the kitchen soon after, biting at her lower lip, looking as though she wanted to smile, but didn't. "What?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. Ruby cleared her throat and I went back to whipping the cream. "Just a customer out there. Asking for you." "Oh," I muttered. Wiping my hands on my apron, I headed out into the café, slipping behind the counter. I leaned over to put the cream in the fridge. "Be right with you. What'll you have?" I called out. There was a pause. "Latte, please," a husky, deep voice replied. I dropped one of the canisters onto my foot. “Shit!” “Is everything okay back there?” he asked. The voice made me freeze, its familiarity clutching at me. Slowly, I straightened up, and found myself looking into a pair of piercing blue eyes. I swallowed. Hard. I had been found. Asher Prince was sitting at my counter.

Chapter Four Him "WHAT’LL YOU HAVE?” she called from below. I glanced up at the beverage menu chalked on the board behind the bar and picked the first thing I read. "Latte, please," I replied. Latte? The fuck? Since when did I drink lattes? Guys at the gym would take the royal piss for weeks, if they found out I’d ordered a fucking latte. There was a long pause, and I sat quietly until a small hand appeared on the edge of the counter. A second later, a dark head followed, and then a pair of large, warm brown eyes, peeked up, narrowing in suspicion. I stared back. She definitely looked better than the last time I'd seen her; that deep-rooted panic-laced fear gone from her eyes. That they were now replaced with skepticism and suspicion wasn't much better, but then again, I'd take that over the primal terror that had been in them before. Her shiny dark hair was piled loosely on top of her head in a knot, and she wore a hint of makeup. Her heart-shaped face was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, with a small and slightly up-turned nose. I noticed she had a bit of whipped cream near the corner of her full pink lips that were currently pursed as she eyed me. She spoke before I could tell her. "What are you doing here?" she hissed quietly. “You…um, have something just there,” I said, pointing to her mouth, and holding back a smirk. That was when I noticed her nametag. It said her name was Juliet. “Oh…” I watched her cheeks become a darker shade of pink, and she wiped the cream away with her hand, looking both embarrassed and annoyed. “Why’d you come here?” she muttered. "Came to get a latte," I replied lightly, wanting to see if she’d bite. She didn't. "You came an awful long way for a latte," she replied, folding her arms over the front of her fitted V-neck black top. "Especially given the fact that there's, like, seven coffee shops within a three-block radius of your gym. So, what gives?" I didn’t know why, but I was finding it extremely hot that she was making this difficult for me. I was so used to girls worshipping me because of my fame. So used to girls doing whatever I wanted, letting me do whatever I wanted, and never getting called on it. But this girl—she was making me work for it. And it was so fucking hot, I nearly forgot why I’d come down here in the first place.

"I came to apologize to you," I said finally, watching as one of her perfect brows arched up. "For what happened… a few weeks ago. At my gym." She met my gaze for a beat before averting her eyes and giving me her back as she turned toward one of the espresso machines. I noticed the large flower tattoo on the back of her neck, done in simple black ink with no shading. My eyes slid lower and I swallowed as I took in her shape. She was small-boned and slender, but she had curves in all the right, womanly places. How the hell did I miss it for the three months she was coming to my joint? There was nothing remotely boyish about her curvy, athletic shape. "Water under the bridge," she replied tersely. "What size you want? Medium? Large?" "You decide," I answered. "It's not water under the bridge to me. That type of shit ain't acceptable, not in my establishment, and I don't take kindly to shit like that." She’d been measuring out ground espresso for my drink, but stopped. Her shoulders slumped slightly and she twisted to glance at me. "Why does it matter so much to you, anyway?" she asked. "I didn't call the cops, didn't try to press charges. It happened and there’s nothing you can do to change it...You can never change it…” Her eyes seemed to look right through me then, but then she snapped all of a sudden. “The world is full of assholes." She turned her back to me again. "You're right," I conceded. "But at the end of the day, I guess you could say it's just the principle of the matter. I hate bullies and I hate seeing violence against women and—” The clatter of a spoon falling down on the floor cut me off. She bent down to pick it up. “It just isn’t all right with me,” I continued. “And if nothing else, someone owes you an apology. It's my place, so, here I am. Saying I'm sorry." "Wasn't your fault," she replied, her back still to me. "You can't control everyone. Skim or two-percent?" "Skim, please," I replied, and fell quiet. If she wasn't interested in my apology, I was just going to put it on the table and leave it the hell alone. Didn’t want her thinking she was being stalked by a guy who drinks lattes. Several minutes passed in silence as she steamed the milk and poured it into the cup, stirring it gently. She placed a lid on the top and slid it into a sleeve, and turned and placed it on the bar in front of me. She didn't look up at me, but I could still see that her cheeks were slightly damp. "Two-fifty," she said softly. I handed her a five. "Keep it," I added. She nodded once in acknowledgment and thanks, but she still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

I turned to leave, not understanding why it bothered me so much that she wouldn’t look at me. Suddenly, I turned back. She finally raised her eyes to meet mine, lifting her brows in question. "If you ever want to come back," I started softly, "just know you're always welcome. And I'll personally guarantee that nobody fucks with you. They’ll have to go through me first." She breathed out a quick laugh, one corner of her mouth pulling upward into a smile before smoothing out. I didn't quite know what that meant, but decided that now, for real, I'd let it be. "Thank you," she said, as if I’d knocked her for six. “That is really...sweet of you.” I left the café, finding myself needing fresh air all of a sudden. Heading back to the subway, I cursed at myself. I’d forgotten to pick up my fucking latte. She probably thought I was a complete moron now. But it was worth it. I had to make my peace. I winced inwardly as unwelcomed images flooded my brain. There was Mom, laying on the floor in the living room, sobbing as my asshole of a father gripped one of his hands on her, wrenching her arm back around her. I heard my drunken father's open palm slap against the gentle skin of my mother's face; the sickening crunch of ribs giving way under the steel-toe of a work boot. He heard my pleas for him to stop, to please stop, that he was hurting her so much— I shook my head quickly, and the memories slowly faded. My father was sixfeet under. Dead from a heart attack. Good fucking riddens. That was the reason why my gut had clenched when I'd seen Juliet sprawled on the floor, looking like she was about to die from fear. That’s why I’d felt helpless after kicking the three assholes out of my gym, why I'd offered to call someone for her, do something to help her. No one gave a damn about my mother when I was a kid. I’d tried to help ease Mom’s suffering, but it never did any good. I was just a kid back then. I'd be damned if I didn't do the same thing for someone else. But it seemed she was through with Blaise's Gym and everyone involved. I was disappointed, but at the very least, I'd given it a shot. Never mind I felt incredibly stupid for it now though. I hopped the train and headed back to my world. The gym. Where I belonged.

Her I WAS GRUMBLING irritably to myself, washing the utensils I'd used to make Asher Prince's latte, which he didn’t even drink, when I felt something swat my rear. I whirled, eyes wide, and saw Ruby shaking her head, twirling a dish towel around in her hands. "You slapped my ass!" I scolded. "What the hell?" "Can you stop mumbling angrily to yourself over there?" Ruby ordered. "It’s like working with a crazy person." I shot my friend a withering stare and returned to my task. "Gee, sorry to disturb you." I was a little embarrassed, having not realized I was actually vocalizing out loud. "I have something for you," Ruby said suddenly, and reached into her back pocket, pulling out what looked like a normal sheet of paper, folded in half. It was sealed with a Strawberry Shortcake sticker and had ‘JEWEL’ written in marker on the front, accompanied by little doodles of hearts, flowers, and stars. I took the paper with a smirk. “Is this your work?" I asked, gesturing to the doodles on the front. "Yes, and I'll thank you to appreciate some artistic shit when it's in your face," Ruby replied, folding her arms. "Anyway, open it!" I smiled, my dimples digging into my cheeks, and broke the sticker, unfolding the paper. My eyes scanned the page, quickly seeing that it was a flyer. ‘Pittsburgh Talent Showcase,’ the top of the flyer boasted. My eyes dropped lower. It was an invitation for the best and brightest talents of Pittsburgh to come to The Harmony Center in the Cultural District, four months from today's date. The showcase called for musicians, singers, artists, and...dancers. I lifted my eyes to Ruby, who was still grinning. "What is this?" I asked softly, holding up the flyer. "Um, can’t you read?" "No. I get what it is. I mean, why did you give it to me?" Ruby shrugged. "I thought that maybe, you know, you could create a piece for the showcase and show everyone in Pittsburgh what an incredible dancer you are." "Except for the small part where I don't perform in front of people anymore." I folded the flyer and handed it back. Ruby made no move to collect it from me. "You just think you can't," she insisted. "But, you can. And you should. You're so talented, Jewel. Don't hide

that!" "I appreciate it," I replied, folding the flyer again and stuffing it into my pocket since Ruby wouldn't take it. "But I can’t dance for a crowd. I know you mean well, and I love you for it, Ruby, but I'm sorry. I can't." "You will." "You what?" "You will," Ruby repeated. "Because I already registered you and paid the fee." "I guess I'm paying you back, then," I said evenly. "No. I don't want your money. I want you to get on that stage and blow everyone the fuck away." "Dude," I said impatiently, "I'm paying you back. I refuse to let you do that and besides, I'm not doing this." "I won't take your dirty money," Ruby said, a note of finality in her voice. "You will get your ass on that stage and dance, bitch." "Stop calling me a bitch and I’m going to give this money to your bosses and have them put it into your check," I said testily. "Don't know if you know this, but I know where you work. And my parents are your bosses." "And I will give it back to your parents to give back to you," Ruby replied. "We can do this all day. Look, you've got four whole months. Put something awesome together and let's get it poppin'! You're amazing, Jewel, I don't know why you don't get that. You could do this and people would be wowed." Ruby started a Charleston step, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn't stay mad at her and reluctantly, a smile pulled at my lips. Finally, I couldn't help but join in, and we were both doing the Charleston in the kitchen. Finally, when we were laughing loudly enough to echo out into the dining area, I shook my head. "I will think about it," I said. "That's all I can promise you. And if I don't do the showcase, you're getting your money back and if you have anything else to say on the subject—you can suck it." Ruby immediately made to protest but I held up a hand. "I'll think about it," I cautioned. Ruby sighed and grumbled. "Fine." As I turned back to clean the counter, I heard her mumbling to herself under her breath. "What's that?" I asked. "Nothing!" Ruby replied, suspiciously. Then, in a lower tone to herself, but meant to be heard by me, she added, "Bitch." I chuckled and shook my head. "So, when are you going back to the gym to train with lover boy?" Ruby asked. "Ah, that would be never," I replied. "On account of the minor incident I endured a few weeks ago. And he’s not my lover." "I remember," Ruby said patiently. "But did you not hear him say he would

make sure nobody messed with you?” She stood tall, taking on a man’s stance then. “‘They have to go through me first’,” she said, in a voice meant to mimic Asher’s. We both laughed. “Like some kind of knight in shining armor. God, Jewel, it was so damn sexy, even I wanted to jump his bones. He got all alphamale on you. That’s really, really hot." "Yeah…” I said breathlessly, remembering how sexy it had been. “But what exactly does that mean to me?" I asked, trying to deter where my mind was wandering. "I don't need or want a bodyguard. I don't need to work out at Blaise's Gym that bad." "Maybe not," Ruby replied. "And I'm fairly certain he wasn't suggesting that he’d be your bodyguard. But he made a promise to ensure your safety. That's pretty damn nice of him." "Since when do you care what Asher Prince says or does?" "I don't," Ruby said. "I care about you. And you seemed to like going to the gym. I dunno…it’s just since you started going there, you’ve seemed to have gotten better from whatever it was that hurt you. And I don't think you should let a bad experience prevent you from doing something you enjoy, especially when the owner himself, Mr. Famous Hot Guns, came all the way down to Little Italy to apologize to you, in person, and tell you he’d have your back." I moved to start grinding fresh espresso. "Plus," Ruby added, "seeing him on TV is totally different than seeing him in person. The man is fine." She delivered the last word in a highpitched singing tone. I chuckled and shook my head. "That's what this is really about. I see." "He is. Come on, Jewel. Anyone with a vagina would see it. You have to admit it. He’s downright pornographic." "I don't have to do a damn thing," I replied, laughing. But she was right, as usual. Asher Prince was, to say the very least, a beautiful specimen of a man. I blushed suddenly, remembering I’d seen more of him in person than just his face. And as far as I could tell, he was beautiful everywhere. "Maybe you ought to be the one working out at the gym." "I ain't scared," Ruby said. "Maybe I will." "Not sure how Anthony would feel about that," I pointed out with a grin. "Oh, yeah," Ruby said, sounding unmoved. "Anthony. Totally forgot about him. Guess it’s a good thing I’m dumping him tonight then.” “Oh, Ruby, sorry to hear that,” I said, hugging her. “No you’re not,” she replied when I pulled back. “You hate him.” “I do, yeah. He treats you like shit. And you’re the best, so you deserve the best.” “Aw, are we having a lesbian moment here?” she said, jocularly.

“In your dreams,” I laughed. I poured the grounds into the espresso container, and then remembered. “Oh God, Ruby, did you see it when I had whipped cream on my face?” “Yeah, unfortunately I saw. Was so uncool of you,” she said dryly. “Thought I taught you better.” “He’s going to think I’m an idiot.” “You are. But trust me, he doesn’t think that at all. If anything, he’s the one who should be feeling like an idiot for paying you five bucks just to watch you make a latte. Now, that’s an idiot, my friend.” Maybe I was being a little hard on Asher. But who was he for me to not be hard on? He was just some troubled local MMA celebrity with baggage and a gym. Yeah, he’d been nice to me when I'd gotten attacked, and yeah, he’d voluntarily parted with over a hundred dollars per month, maybe more, by kicking the three stooges out of his gym. And yeah, it was sort of sweet he’d come all the way down to the café just to apologize to me and invite me back, although I still didn't see what the big deal was to him. I wasn't sure if any of those things were worth me returning to a place that had dragged me back to the darkness I’d run away from. Sorry, Asher Prince. I really am. I just don’t think I’m strong enough.

Him WORD OF THE STORY: ‘The girl in guy's clothing who infiltrated Blaise's’ spread like wildfire, despite my best efforts not to let it. It royally pissed me off every time someone dragged it back up, even though I was getting praise for acting the way I had. But I hadn't done it for recognition. I'd intervened because it’d been the right thing to do. Two weeks had passed since I'd gone to the café. There was no sight of Juliet. I assumed now, it was case closed. While I was sorry she felt like she couldn't come back, I knew I'd done right by her, and at this point, I was washing my hands of it. But when almost everyone was talking about it, it seemed it made shutting the door difficult, if not impossible. But I never would’ve guessed the result. I brought my fingers to my temples and rubbed, glancing at the clock. It was nearly time to spar with Connor, but based on the ruckus from outside, I knew I'd have to go out there and start kicking the girls out. Connor burst into my office. "Hey, boss!" he said cheerfully. "Listen, I'm gonna start sending the girls outta here but I wanted to let you know—there's this cute redhead out there asking for you. I'm taking her and her friend out for some drinks after we’re done. You need to come, dude. Sure thing." He lifted his brows meaningfully. “She’s a gymnast.” When word had gotten out that there was a girl at Blaise’s, women had flocked to the gym. But not to train. Dressed in tight, low-cut clothing, and caked up to-thenine, the girls—who were hard to tell apart—were only too glad to offer me sexual favors, finding any stupid reason to put their hands on my body. It was beginning to piss me off, real bad. I needed to concentrate on training for Ithaca. Nothing else. “You’re a whore. You know that, Connor?” I said, raising an eyebrow. For every girl I brushed off, which was every single one of them, Connor and the other guys were more than happy to catch them and pick up the mess. “Hey. What guy doesn’t love pussy on demand?” he said, bouncing his eyebrows up and down. Meaningless sex. Been there, done that. Didn’t do anything for me. I was just gonna keep my dick in my pants and mind my own fucking business. I smirked and shook my head. "Nah, man. You got it. I'm good." "Come on, bro!" Connor insisted. "You haven't tapped any of that out there! Take a load off. At least relieve some fucking stress."

"I'm good," I repeated. "You and Leon are doing just fine without me. Unless your cock is finally giving up." Connor smirked. "Never. It’s stronger than iron—I know what's wrong," he said in a teasing tone. "You're just butt-hurt since Little Italian never came back after you went crawling on hands and knees to say you're sorry. Buying a fucking latte, like a pussy," he laughed. "Hey, man," I snapped, rising from my chair. "Fuck you. Mind your own goddamn business." "C’mon," Connor pushed. "If you like her, just go see her again. Your cock ain’t shy, is it? If you need advice on the birds and bees, man, you only need ask." "I’m not having this conversation with you, Connor," I rumbled. "Now, get those girls the fuck out of my gym so I can beat the shit out of you and do something productive." "Yeah, yeah," Connor said, disappointed. "Guess I'll do that and then I'll go do something productive later. Maybe a couple somethings." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and I shook my head again. "Whatever," I grumbled. "Just make sure you wear a rubber. Don't want you bringing crabs into this gym. And fuck you having kids, man. One of you in the world is enough." When the gym was finally empty of blood-thirsty women, I turned my attention to a punch bag for a warm up. As I slugged it out on the bag, I thought about her. I'd never considered contacting Juliet again after she’d made it clear she was done with the gym. But I had to admit that maybe Connor wasn't so off-base with his comment. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And there was just something about her. Something that set her apart from all the Barbie-whores that swarmed in my life. There was just something about her that wouldn’t leave me alone. Never see her again, I told myself, slamming my fist into the bag, with more force than necessary. Half-hour later, I wasted no time hopping in the ring to spar with Connor. Leon was there, along with ten other guys, who had all been excited to see this match play out. I needed to up my game, what with the tournament looming nearer and nearer. Connor was definitely a top sparring partner in the gym. The man's experience certainly made him a worthy adversary, and I was concentrating harder than I normally did with other fighters. I’d never been knocked out. But Connor knew he had a slim chance. I circled Connor in the ring. He lashed out with a lightning-fast jab which I deflected, only to take a sharp kick in the ribs. I stumbled backward but quickly caught my feet, then rushed Connor with a slicing elbow followed by a left hook,

then dropped down and swept Connor's feet out from under him. I rolled backward and hopped up quickly before Connor could drop me from his prone position in the ring. "Fucking quick bastard!" Connor rasped. I laughed at him behind my mouth guard, hopping lightly from foot to foot as I focused in on Connor's shoulder line. From the way Connor tensed slightly and leaned, I knew instantly it would likely be a jab coming off the left shoulder. I sent up a blocking forearm just as Connor's fist flew at me, and then sent a hard push-kick with my left foot into Connor's gut. The air audibly rushed out of his lungs as he stumbled back, bouncing off the ropes. He held up a hand. "All right, you half-English fuck," he panted. "Give me a minute." I pulled my mouth guard out and smirked. "Sure, old man," I said sarcastically. "Take all the time you need. Would you like a chair to sit down on?" Breathlessly, Connor held up an extended middle finger before replacing his hand to his knee and sucking in a deep breath. A sudden rush of cold air filled the air then. Someone had entered the gym. I glanced over my shoulder to see who it was. Fuck. I had to do a double take as I caught a glimpse of shiny long dark hair, in a high messy ponytail. A pair of warm brown eyes met mine briefly, and I clenched my jaw to keep it from falling open. It was the last person on Earth I'd expected to see sauntering casually past the ring, toward the heavy bags. Juliet was back. And I knew then, I was heading for my first knock out.

Chapter Five Him I’M A DEAD MAN. I thought I had Ithaca in the bag, but how the hell am I supposed to concentrate on training with her looking like that? It seemed Juliet had thrown caution to the wind, now that her cover was blown. As my eyes went over her form, I knew she was gonna be trouble for me. I’m not talking about low-cut tops or shorts that bare ass cheeks, like the groupies wore. That did nothing for me. So why the hell is a girl who’s pretty much covered up, waking my cock up? She wore a pair of form-fitting black yoga pants under a gray T-shirt that looked like its sleeves had been ripped off, showing her slender toned arms. I caught a flash of a bright-pink sports bra through the large holes where the sleeves had once been. Attaching her ear-buds, she glanced over her shoulder at me. I gave her a smile—a smile that was wider than I’d wanted it to be—and a nod of acknowledgment before turning away to face Connor again. "Oh, shit," Connor crowed quietly. "Looks like your girlfriend came back after all. Damn, who knew Loner had all of that under those baggy-ass clothes?" I narrowed my eyes. "The name’s Juliet and you don’t wanna say that again," I warned, my voice hard, stabbing a finger at him. I glanced around at the other guys, who were still crowded around the ring, but all of their heads were swiveled in her direction as she pounded away at her bag. They were laughing and making low comments about her shape, her clothes. I snapped my fingers to draw their attention and scowled when they finally looked at me. "Don't look at her," I warned, a sharp edge to my voice. "Don't talk to her, don't breathe in her direction, don’t dream about her—don't think about her. Leave her the fuck alone. I see any of you fucking with her, your ass is mine. Copy that?" There was a round of terse, disappointed nods and I turned back toward Connor once more, popping my mouth guard back in place. My sparring partner was openly smirking at me, cocking his head. "Was that you having her back?" Connor asked, shaking his arms out at his side before adopting a fighting stance. "Or...you marking your territory?" I glowered at him, lifting my fists and making a ‘come on’ gesture. "'Cos you might as well have gone over there, lifted your leg, and pissed all over her if that's what you wanted to do," Connor went on, that stupid smirk never

leaving his face. He was still speaking when I rushed at him. I knew it wasn't sportsmanlike of me to do so, but I wanted to shut Connor's dumb-ass up before Juliet overheard him. I did not want her to be uncomfortable here. Connor took the hint—as well as a hard, sharp elbow to his solar plexus—and shut the hell up, and we continued with our sparring session. Since I’d warned the other guys off from Juliet, they’d adhered to my orders, and no man bothered her once. They continued to go about their normal business throughout the evening, until I realized it was closing time. The guys trickled out and Connor checked if I needed him to do anything, but I waved him off knowing how eager he was to hook up with the gymnast and her friend. I went to the office and toweled myself off, changing into the clean shirt I kept in my bag before turning off the light and locking the door after me. The lone sound of fists against a punching bag met my ears, and I followed it around the ring to where she was still going strong. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and had shucked her ripped-up gray T-shirt as she pummeled the bag. Her ear-buds were still firmly in place, and she’d tucked her ponytail into a roll on top of her head, loose strands sticking wetly to the back of her neck. I heard her sharp exhales with every punch thrown, seeing her ribs contract tightly with the pushing out of breath. My eyes traveled the length of her back, noting the indentation her spine made all the way down, the well-developed muscles there flexing and moving with every powerful thrust of her arm. It was obvious she’d completely lost track of time, and hadn't noticed me standing at a respectful distance behind her. I reached out and tapped the back of her shoulder, as lightly and as quickly as possible. She flinched, recoiling away from me, and the shoulder I'd touched, dipped low under my hand as she jumped a mile away. Her shocked, fearful, wide brown eyes, met mine as she continued to back up, feet moving fast. I lifted my brow, raising my hands slowly in the air to show I was no threat. "Hey," I said, as she scrambled to pull an ear-bud out. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just came to let you know I'm getting ready to close up." She’d been breathing hard through her nose, and at my words, she visibly started to relax, her fists unclenching. I frowned slightly, knowing that her reaction went way beyond being startled. She’d actually been petrified for a second. "Yeah, sorry," she breathed, stepping past me and snatching up a towel. "Let me get my stuff together and then I'll get out of your hair." I averted my eyes when she started to towel off the sweat on her arms and torso, suddenly aware that she was dressed only in her sports bra and yoga pants,

and that she looked amazing. More than amazing. And then she suddenly seemed self-conscious as though realizing the same, and quickly pulled her T-shirt over her head. I cleared my throat and took another step back, giving her plenty of space. "So you decided to come back," I said. She nodded her head once as she zipped herself into her fitted leather jacket and grabbed her bag. "I did," she said finally. "I figured that if the owner himself would come all the way out to Bloomfield to apologize, and pay five dollars for a drink he didn’t want—” “Yeah, about that. I don’t actually drink lattes.” For some reason, I needed her to know this. “I’d figured that,” she said with a half-smile. I’m such a moron. “Anyway, I could at least give this place another chance, right?" We both smiled and she followed me toward the front doors. "Well, I'm glad you came back," I replied. "You've got too much talent to waste, anyway. You ever thought about sparring? Competing?" She looked shocked. "Me?" she said, gesturing to herself. "Oh, no. Not really my thing." "No?" I said. "That's a shame. You could really do some damage in the women's MMA leagues." She smirked and shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm just in it for the fitness." "I can tell you've had some training before," I said, leaning against the door and folding my arms. "You ever take lessons or something?" "I had a trainer," she said, her voice coming out softer. She glanced away. "In New York…where I'm from… But I moved here with my family last year. So since I've been here, I haven't had any training." "I'll spar with you," I offered with a shrug. "If you want. I'm thinking about putting on a women's self-defense course. You could be my guinea pig. Maybe even my assistant." "That's nice of you to want to do that for women," she said. "But, um...no, thanks." I didn't press the issue, but I noticed the way she couldn't look me in the eye and how she was almost mumbling. Something was definitely up with her, but now was not the time or place to try to figure it out. I pushed open the door for her, following her out into the cold night, and pulled the door shut behind me, locking it firmly before sliding the gate across. I glanced over my shoulder at her, noting that she seemed to be waiting for me. I finished

locking the gate and turned to face her. "How you getting home?" I asked. I was planning to take the subway myself, and was about to offer to see her home. Mom would have turned in her grave if she knew I'd let a young lady walk home all by herself late at night. She pointed over her shoulder to a car across the street with the headlights on. "That's Ruby," she said. "She’ll take me home." I lifted a hand vaguely in the direction of the car. It was too dark to really see anything, but then I saw the window roll down and a hand stick out, waving at us. I nodded at Juliet, preparing to turn, but something in her face stopped me. "I want to say thank you," she said in a rush. "For…for sticking up for me when those guys ran up on me. For trying to help me out. I'm sorry I brushed you off like that. And…and going out of your way to come to the café. All that was...was really sweet of you. And I just want to say thanks." I was surprised and a little embarrassed. It made me uncomfortable to hear my actions verbally laid out like that, when I hadn't done anything for any reason other than to do the decent thing. "Really, no trouble," I said, taking my turn to avert my eyes and lower my voice. "Just don't like shit like that, is all." She glanced at me, and her lips pulled into a full smile. "Well...it was really sweet of you," she repeated. I nodded. "Get home safe," I said. "Your girl is waiting on you. I'll see you around." "Good night," she said. As she headed off, I watched until she’d made it across the street all right and was safely in her friend's car. My mind was spinning as I hopped on the train. I couldn't figure her out. Most women I could peg pretty easily within the first few minutes of conversation, but she was a complete enigma to me. I was genuinely surprised at her thanking me when I'd assumed all I'd managed to do was annoy her. I was also still puzzled by her reaction to me tapping her, her unwillingness to spar with me... I shook my head. I was probably being analytical. Maybe she was just naturally jumpy, and maybe, maybe she was intimidated at the thought of sparring with a guy. Either way, I wanted to find out.

Chapter Six Him I was checking over the weights by the punch bags and glanced up at Juliet as she walked over. She gave me a short smile as she dropped her bag on the ground and stretched her arms. I nodded in reply and turned back to my inventory list as she set to work on the bag. After a few minutes, I finally gave in to my inner voice, the one shouting at me to watch her. I glanced over, studying her form for a moment, making damn sure I didn’t look like a goddamn loser pervert. Now that she wasn't drowning in oversized clothing, I could study her better and critique her form. Her previous training was evident, but it was also evident that she’d been away from it for a while. She wasn't quite as sharp as she should be, but her punches were as hard as ever. Finally, I set my clipboard down and stepped over to her. Carefully. I made sure to stay within her peripheral vision, not wanting to frighten her like I had a week before. Her eyes shifted toward me automatically and I motioned for her to take her ear-buds out. She complied, lifting an eyebrow at me. "Hey," I said. "Not to interrupt. Just noticed something. When you throw an uppercut, make sure you lower your shoulder a little and throw from the hip. Twist a little." I stepped up beside her, slightly moving around toward the back, instincts telling me to keep my hands where she could see. "Can I show you?" She visibly tensed, but nodded hesitantly. I stepped behind her, angling slightly so I was nearer to her right side. "When you throw the right," I began, gently pressing on her right shoulder, "lower this side a little more." I moved her shoulder gently. "Turn your hips with it and lift your heel off the ground." I knew I might be pushing it, but I let my hands settle just above her hips, lightly, and manipulated the action I wanted them to take. I nudged the toe of my shoe against the heel of hers, prodding her to lift her heel as she rotated her hips. "All the power should come from here." I patted her right hip lightly, then stepped back. She was flushing, and nodded without meeting my gaze. "Thanks… I'll, uh, remember that." "No problem," I replied. "Otherwise you're perfect." I immediately realized what I'd said and how it might have sounded. I cleared my throat, turning to move back toward my damn clipboard. When I finished my inventory, I stripped off my clean T-shirt and replaced it

with a beat-up, ratty shirt to workout in. I headed back out toward the punch bags, glancing briefly at Juliet. I was pleased to see she was applying the technique I'd given her. I stretched my neck and arms and started in on the bag in front of me. I was so consumed in what I was doing, that time flew by. After a while, I felt the tap of fingers on my shoulder and I turned sharply. "You taking off for the night?" I asked, slightly out of breath. I used my towel to dry my face. "Yeah," she replied. "I need to go home and get ready for work." I cocked my head. It was nine on a Friday night. "The café?" I asked, knitting my brows. She shook her head, her ponytail swaying. "No. I bartend over at Trinity’s Lounge a couple nights a week. Usually on the weekend." I wasn't surprised to hear that Juliet snagged a job at Trinity’s. Trinity’s Lounge was a swank place in the Strip District. I’d never been there, but some of the guys had, and they’d always come back with stories about the waitresses. Given the upscale clientele, the owner reportedly hired only the most beautiful women to ensure a high amount of business. Bet she was the prettiest girl there. "Two jobs, huh?" I asked. "Must keep you pretty busy." "Three, actually," she replied, to my surprise. She smiled. "I also teach dance on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings." I was impressed. "Dance?" I repeated. "What kind of dance?" "Ballet," she said. "I teach twelve-to-sixteen-year-olds." "No wonder your posture's so good," I said, noting her straight back and elongated neck. It made sense; there was a grace about her movements, everything from the way she walked, to the way she threw her punches. Grace certainly wasn't taught to professional fighters. "So you've got a busy day tomorrow?" "Yes," she said with a sigh. "I actually will work all three of my jobs tomorrow." I let out a low whistle, shaking my head. "Sounds exhausting." "It is, but it’s fine," she replied. "I will admit though, I love my Sundays. The one day where I have absolutely nothing to do. Unless you count Sunday dinner with the family." I tilted my head and the corner of my mouth curved up. "If we're talking my family," I said, "then I definitely count that as a strenuous activity." I smiled when she chuckled quietly. She glanced down at the toes of her sneakers, then back up at me. I noticed then that I had at least nearly a foot of height over her. "Well," she said, "I better be on my way. I just wanted to say good night." "Good night," I echoed, watching her leave. I wondered if she’d come in

tomorrow, and found myself selfishly hoping she would so I'd be able to see her and talk to her again. What the fuck was wrong with me? My concentration should be on Ithaca and training. I hated to admit it, but Juliet Mucciarone was taking over my whole goddamn world. I KNEW I had a problem. Over the course of the next month, Juliet came each and every night, just as she always did. The difference was, I now found myself seeking her out around the times she normally showed up. And when I saw her, my gut would do strange things and clench up in a real fucked-up way. It wasn't anything I was familiar with and I wasn't sure what it meant or how I felt about it. All I knew was that I physically reacted when I saw her, and I didn't like that one goddamn bit. I didn't like knowing that something, or someone, was capable of making me react involuntarily that way. I'd always prided myself on my absolute control. Now, someone I barely knew had me checking around for her each day. Had my damn stomach pulsing and heart beating just a little bit harder than normal, whenever I saw her. I was pissed—that shit was for pussies. I tried to leave her the hell alone, letting her come in and work out, uninterrupted, but I couldn’t do it. I had to seek her out. Had to make conversation, to say hello and goodbye. Had to be near her. I was like a moth to a goddamn flame. It was Friday; I was at the front desk with Connor, watching the small TV mounted on the wall behind the desk. It was an ESPN report about Ithaca, and it was a formal announcement of all the fighters. A few names and faces I shrugged at. I knew who they were; they had reps for being bad-asses. I wasn't concerned with them. Two names I outright didn't recognize, which meant more than likely they were amateurs who happened to be really, really good—much like how I got started. Then there was me, my face taking up the entire screen. All of the clientele who happened to be within earshot of the TV erupted into whoops and cheers then as Connor grabbed my shoulders and said, “You look hot, you angry bastard.” I didn't crack a smile, shaking my head. "Oh, wow. Look at that. You're on TV." The unenthusiastic voice drew my attention and I glanced over my shoulder, smirking when I saw Juliet leaning against the counter. I didn't know how long she'd been there, but she looked unimpressed even as the guys nearby and Connor were still carrying on. "Yeah," I replied, mocking her tone. "How about that?" "Hey, don't be a hater, Macaroni," Connor said, pointing a finger at her. "Just wait until he comes back with that two milli purse. Then you'll want to be his best

friend." She stood listening to Connor, her face unmoved. When he was done, she tilted her head. "You know...." Juliet trailed off. "…Connor, is it?" He nodded. "You can call me Con for short, b—" I kicked Connor in the shin with a glare, and the word ‘babe’ never left his stupid mouth. "How sweet of you," she said smoothly. "You know, Connor, if you're going to insist on calling me by my last name, the least you could do is pronounce it right." Connor made a face. "Macaroni," he said. "What's so hard about that?” “Macaroni is a type of pasta. It's Mooch-ee-rone," she said, rolling her ‘r’ and gesturing dramatically with her hand. "Pronounce it all. I'm Italian. C'mon, now." She flicked her hand dismissively and sauntered past the desk toward her usual spot. I couldn’t hold back a laugh as every guy in the gym joined in. Christ, I adored that sarcastic, dry sense of humor of hers. And that was the real kicker. It was rare for me to smile, let alone hear myself laugh. After all the pain of last year—watching my best friend die in Afghanistan, and then all that shit that came from the press, making allegations that I was screwing his wife...Fuck, even now it made my blood boil—I hadn't even been sure I remembered how to laugh anymore. And yet, without even trying, Juliet could have me barking with laughter at some story of a ridiculous customer at either the café or the lounge, or something that one of her crazy family members had said. "My bad," Connor called after her. "Don't be mad at me, Moochi-roochi—ah fuck it. Can’t say it." I kept on laughing at Connor's discomfit. "Get it right next time," I said, punching his shoulder. “You’re making this gym look dumb.” Connor grabbed his arm and winced. "Ow. Hey, fuck you, man. You weren't saying it right either." "I didn't have to after a while," I replied, enjoying busting Connor's balls. "We're on a first name basis now." "And that's about it," Connor finished up, then ducked my next swing. Later that night, I was going over some paperwork in the office when Juliet stopped by on her way out. She rapped her knuckles on the doorframe even though I'd seen her heading over. "Heading to Trinity’s?" I asked. "Believe it or not, I actually have the night off," she replied. "Another girl wanted an extra shift so, even though it was hard, I sacrificed mine." "That's big of you," I said, suppressing a smirk. "It really was. Anyway, Ruby and I are going to get a jumpstart on the baking for tomorrow. So, really, I'll still be working." "Hope you get some sleep in there somewhere," I said, popping a toothpick in

my mouth and stacking some papers together. "Right. So, anyway, I am working at Trinity’s tomorrow, and since the Pirates and the Yankees are playing at PNC tomorrow night, and we're not a sports bar, it should be relatively quiet." I nodded and waited for her to make her point silently, lifting my brows. "Anyway," she said again, "if you and your boys wanted to come by for a drink I could probably hook you up with a couple of freebies. Just saying." I was caught off guard at the invitation. It was so random and I wasn't sure what to make of it. Did she want to see me outside the gym? I realized that she was waiting for some sort of reply, so I cleared my throat. "Uh, sure. That sounds good. I'll talk to Connor and Leon. Maybe drag my brother's ass out for a change." I chose not to mention that I didn't drink. I never wanted the chance to become like my abusive alcoholic father. Plus, it made my body stronger and tougher than most. Juliet looked pleased. It was good to see her happy. There was something about her that caught my attention even more than her looks or her wit. There was an oppressive heaviness that clung to her. Somewhere in the depths of her brown eyes was a sadness, almost a hopelessness. I could see it, but I couldn't understand it. And Christ, I wanted to understand it. Whatever it was, whatever caused that pain to linger in her eyes, she never spoke of it. She never came off as anything other than laid back, except for when I caught her off guard. She still recoiled and flinched when she didn't see me coming, like I'd tried to brand her with a hot iron. The sadness would leave her eyes and be replaced with sheer, unadulterated terror. I could never understand that. Was it the fear of being attacked in the gym again? I wanted to ask her, I wanted to ask so badly but I knew I'd be way out of line. So, I stuck to basic conversation. Besides, that was a huge stretch for me anyway. In fact, everything I'd done since the night she'd been attacked had been a huge stretch for me. I couldn't make sense of it, and that irked me something. "Okay. Well, no pressure. I just thought that since it'd be pretty quiet in there, you wouldn't really be bothered, like you seem to be here by those girls—I mean, uh, people coming up to you all the time. And, like I said, I can probably score you guys a couple of free beers or something." I smiled. "That's nice of you. Thanks." She cleared her throat and gave a little shrug. "All right, then. Have a good one." She turned and walked away before I could reply. Annoyance rose again as I felt excitement at the prospect of seeing her the following evening, even though she'd be working. It was just a nice gesture from one human being to another. Nothing more, nothing less. Even so...

"Connor," I called, heading toward the door and hating myself for it. Bad as a fucking teenager. "What you doing tomorrow night?"

Her AS I WALKED out to Ruby's car, parked across the street, I cursed myself with every step. What was wrong with me? Inviting Asher Prince of all people to Trinity’s for drinks? Free drinks, at that? He probably thought I was some desperate groupie now. Over the past month or so, we’d made lots of small talk, and I grew to look forward to seeing him each day. He was very quiet but observant, and I liked the way he paid attention to my little daily stories. I'd even managed to make him laugh a couple of times. Though he was still very much intimidating, he was sweet, much sweeter than I would ever have expected him to be, and he was attentive in his own way. He was still hotheaded and crabby with the other guys at the gym—grunting and yelling. I’d even heard him growl like a panther at some of them. But with me, well, he was a teddy bear. I had known of him, of course, as all of Pittsburgh did, from the Sparta event and all the coverage about him and the wife of a fallen Marine. Inviting him to Trinity’s had been completely impulsive and I had no clue why I'd even thought that would be a good idea. I'd felt a desire to do something nice back for him, I guessed, the way he had done something nice for me. It was the first thing that came to mind. He was a guy, right? And in my experience, guys liked to drink with other guys. I had figured he was more cut out for the quiet lounge rather than a crowded, loud sports bar where every guy, and probably girl, in there, would recognize him and hound him all night. Trinity’s was notorious for being empty on game nights since the ambiance was not conducive to supporting sporting events. All of that had swirled together in my little mind faster than my logic could kick in, and the invitation had spurted out of my mouth before I could stop it. I cringed, smacking my palm to my forehead. There was no way he was going to come, and then I'd have to face him again on Monday and hear his lame excuse as to why he hadn't taken me up on my even more lame offer. As I reached Ruby's car, I shook my head. I could really be a dumbass sometimes.

Chapter Seven Him I FOLLOWED BEHIND Connor, Leon, and my brother, as we headed into Trinity’s. True to Juliet’s promise, the place was pretty quiet at eleven on a Saturday night. There was a table of some forty-something women nearby. Across from them was a table of young entrepreneurial types in the corner, who were the loudest group in there. Probably the start of a bachelor party. Twenty-somethings with styled hair and designer clothes, ogling the waitresses. We claimed a tall table midway between the door and the bar, with tall stools. I opted to stand for a bit, leaning my elbows on the table as I surveyed the room. Connor had just started cracking jokes about the music when I noticed a curvy brunette out of the corner of my eye, moving toward our table. I glanced over at the approaching figure and then did a double-take. I hardly recognized Juliet. My eyes moved down her womanly frame as Connor let out a low whistle. I kicked him under the table. Hard. "Hey, guys," Juliet welcomed, coming to stand at my side, a slightly apologetic note in her voice. "Sorry about the wait—that bachelor party is sort of demanding. I'll take your order for now." I couldn't get over how different she looked than when she came to the gym or even how she'd looked at the café; tonight, she was completely done up, glamorous even. She wore a sequined scoop-neck black tank top that revealed a generous portion of her cleavage, which was dusted with some sort of shimmery powder, and a pair of short black shorts. Her hair was down and tousled, shining under the dim lights, and she wore heavy eye makeup. I definitely preferred her more natural look, but couldn’t deny how unbelievably sexy she looked. There was something else about her that I couldn't put my finger on, but it was different. "Wow, Mac, you look—"I kicked Connor under the table again. Much harder. He groaned in pain as I narrowed my eyes at him“—Look okay...I guess…” He grimaced. Ever since Juliet had corrected him on her Italian surname, Connor had made a point to just call her Mac. It made her all the more special knowing she could be a good sport about it. Despite Connor deserving a good beating. "That’s the best compliment I’ve had tonight, Connor. Thanks," she said, holding back a grin. "Boss’s dress code."

Her eyes lit on my brother, the only one she didn't recognize, and smiled shyly. I was staring at her so hard, I didn't realize they were waiting for an introduction until my brother cleared his throat loudly. I shook myself. "Sorry," I said quickly. "Juliet, this is my big brother, Bailey. Bailey, this is Juliet. She's…" I hesitated for a moment. What was she? It’d been on the tip of my tongue to say client, or something like that, but it didn't quite seem right. "A friend," she finished quickly. "Nice to meet you, Bailey. And please call me Jewel. I’ve told your brother like a hundred times already." She laughed softly. Bailey nodded and smiled, subtly shooting me a quick smile of approval. "Nice to meet you, Jewel." "Well," she said, her hands settling on her hips. "I did promise a round of free drinks. What'll you have?" "You got Tank Seven?" Connor asked. "I do. I'll have the waitress bring out a round for you." She glanced around, her gaze settling on me, and smiled before she walked off. As she did, I realized what it was about her that was different. She was wearing black studded boots with a tall spiky heel, the tops of which reached to just under her calf. I was used to her being so much shorter than me, but tonight, she'd almost reached my shoulders. "Good job," I heard Bailey say, and turned just as my older brother's hand clamped down on my shoulder. I looked at him, frowning in confusion. "Good job on what?" I hissed. Bailey cocked his head curiously. He nodded in the general direction Juliet had gone off in. "Isn't that yours?" he replied. "No," I said, averting my eyes. "I hardly know her. We're not really even friends. She just comes to the gym." "Yeah, he doesn't spend hours a week talking to her or anything," Connor said loudly, making Bailey chuckle and me glare at Connor murderously. "He doesn't spend the rest of the time talking about her either." "Shut the fuck up," I snapped. "He’s being stupid," I added to Bailey. "It ain't even like that." "Why not?" Bailey asked, genuinely. "She's a beautiful girl. What's the problem?" "Nothing," I grunted. "Who said I had a goddamn problem?" "Oh, Jesus," Leon said, swiping a hand down his face. "Here we go." "Dude, you don't have a problem," Connor said reassuringly, patting the air. "You're just a huge fucking pussy who drinks lattes. That's all." "Fuck you," I snarled, rising from the stool I’d just sat down on. At that minute, Juliet returned to the table, carrying a tray with four pint glasses filled with beer. "Hey, you're our own personal waitress too?" Connor asked with

a grin. "And here I thought you were just the barkeep." She shot him a look, but smiled. "The frat boys in the corner are being really obnoxious, so I guess you guys are stuck with me for a while. Just don't have me walking around all over the place. These shoes hurt my feet." She placed our drinks in front of us and I shifted uncomfortably as she placed mine down. She didn't miss the look on my face and furrowed her brow. "What is it?" she asked. "Would you like something else? It's no problem. Do you like liquor instead?" I leaned in so I wouldn't have to shout over the music. Big mistake. I was close enough to smell her perfume and saw a few light freckles across her nose in the dim lighting. I felt my cock twitch, like I was back to being thirteen again. "Actually, can I just have a club soda with lime?" She looked at me in surprise. "Of course. Sorry, I didn't realize..." Her hand hovered next to the glass. "Hey, hey, hey," Connor said, reaching out to stop her. "You leave that. He’s training—he doesn't get to drink." "Oh," she said, her face visibly relaxing, and for a moment, I wondered if she thought I was an alcoholic or something. She smiled, pushing my glass to the middle of the table. "I'll let you three fight it out. Club soda with lime coming right up." I nodded my thanks and watched my brother and my friends take down the swill with lust. Juliet brought me my club soda and lime in record time, and returned to the bar after making sure we were set. As the four of us traded MMA war stories, or the other guys made comments about the waitresses—making damn sure not to refer to Juliet, unless they wanted to talk to my fist—my eyes kept straying to her. She looked cute dancing to whatever song was playing as she worked, and she handled the drunken guys across the lounge with grace and ease. But if they made one fucking move on her, I’d beat them till they couldn’t walk or talk no more. Eventually, Leon and Connor decided to call it a night. They both had to be at the gym fairly early the next morning for opening. I glanced at my watch. It was closing hour. I moved toward the bar when I noticed that Juliet seemed relatively free and was wiping down the counter. "Hey," I said, leaning on the bar. She glanced up at me and shoved a lock of hair behind her ear. "Hey," she returned. She nodded at our empty table. "Your two friends couldn't keep up?" I smirked. "Nah. They just have to work in the morning and knew that their boss would pummel them if they were late." She smiled at that and nodded. "Their boss can certainly be a scary guy when he wants to."

I smiled at that. "So, you leaving here soon?" I asked. "It's about closing time." "Yeah," she sighed. "I don't have to stay for closing duties tonight, the other girls will handle that. But I want to wait for those assholes to get going." I glanced over my shoulder, and saw the bachelor party was very slowly making their way toward the entrance. "I’ll give you a ride home with my brother," I said. "We drove together, and it looks like I'm going to have to drive him anyway. He’s a lightweight." "It’s fine. I’ll take the bus." I shook my head. "No. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you take a bus. I'm taking you home and I won’t take no for an answer." I looked back again as the lounge suddenly got quieter. The group of guys had gone. Good. I turned back to Juliet. "Why don't you get your stuff and come outside. Bailey and I will go get the car." "If you're sure," she said uncertainly. "Bloomfield is not super close. I'd hate to impose." "You don’t have a choice," I replied. "Meet you outside." I turned and walked off to collect Bailey before she could protest further. Bailey was hunched over, texting on his phone, hardly noticing when I approached. "C'mon, bro," I said. "Let's get the car. Give me your keys. I'm taking Juliet home, too." "How chivalrous of you," Bailey said with a smirk. “And it’s Jewel—Jewel. Just ‘cos you don’t say her name right doesn’t mean you’re not into her, bro.” "Whatever," I said with a shake of my head. "I just don't want her taking the bus by herself that far this late at night." "Hey, I support this," Bailey said. "A new sister-in-law? Hell, yeah." I couldn't help laughing out loud at that one. "You might be getting a little ahead of yourself." I threw an arm around my brother's shoulder and yanked his drunken ass toward the door. "Now, come on." I shoved the door open and saw several of the drunken guys still outside. I didn't spare them another glance, shouldering roughly past them, but drew their stares. "Hey, that’s what’s his name!" one of them yelled, but I didn't turn around. Douchebags. "Tornado! The MMA dude. The one that kicked everyone’s shit in Sparta! Holy shit, bro, can I have your autograph?" A chorus of laughs erupted from them, but I ignored them. "Asshole! Still fucking your dead friend’s Mrs.?!" one of them shouted at me, slurring his words. I clenched my jaw, my fist balling involuntarily. "Calm down, man. Don’t go all Hulk on me, now. Their not worth being kicked out of Ithaca," Bailey reminded me, quietly. "Let's just get to the car." Bailey handed over his keys when we reached his white Range Rover and I

hopped into the driver's seat. Bailey climbed into the backseat and I looked at him curiously. "The fuck you doing?" I hissed. Bailey grinned at me. "The lady should sit in the front," he said. "I can pretend to pass out if you want, so you can say all your sweet nothings to each other." I shook my head, pissed. "Shut up, man." I backed the vehicle out of the stall and pulled out into the street. As I pulled up closer to the bar, rage set in my bones. Juliet was standing just outside the entrance, and the crowd of assholes had closed in on her. "Shit," Bailey muttered from the backseat. She was frozen in place, her eyes huge with the same fear I'd seen the night of her attack at the gym. She stared blankly as two of the assholes leaned in close, flanking her. I thrust the gear shift into park and jumped out of the car. They were gonna wish they were fucking dead by the time I finished with them.

Chapter Eight Her I WALKED TOWARD the door, feeling the cool blast of air breeze in from outside as I pushed out. Immediately, my stomach clenched. Several of the guys were outside still, smoking and drunkenly cavorting in front of the lounge. In order to get across the street, I was going to have to walk through them. "Damn, there she is," one of the guys said, and all eyes turned on me. "That's the one I liked. Been wanting you all night, sexy." "Holy shit, you're right, Shane. She was the hottest of them all," another one chimed in from the other side. "Hey, baby, it's still early. Why don't you come over for a nightcap tonight?" All at once, they all started speaking at me. Their voices were a jumble in my head and I shifted my eyes from side to side, hugging my bag to my chest. Their faces became a blur, their voices distant, and panic threatened to consume me. My heart jerked oddly in my chest, beating fast, then slow, as anxiety filled me from my toes to the tips of my ears. I felt hot, then cold. My breathing became hitched, and memories, violent memories, assaulted me. I stared, unseeing, in front of me as I felt their body heat; they were closing in. Terror paralyzed me, and I couldn't move when I felt a hand on my shoulder, then another on my back, sliding down to my hip. I knew I was shaking, and I felt bile rise up and down in my throat. Move, you dumb fuck! my mind screamed at me. Yell! Shove them! Get away! Do something! And yet, my body continued to disobey, keeping me rooted in place. I felt hot breath on my ear, heard the low murmur of a voice, and I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting either the ability to move, or to die, right then. "Jewel." His voice was cold, hard, but not angry with me. The strength of that one word made my eyes snap open and I felt… safe. I couldn’t explain it. But I did. I felt safe. Every head swiveled toward the voice. Asher was standing on the sidewalk a dozen feet away. His face held an expression I'd never seen before; it was the deepest, calmest anger I'd ever seen on a person. He stared at no one but me. He called me Jewel, I thought vaguely. Not Juliet. Jewel. He always called me Juliet.

"Come here." The words were still hard, but there was also a gentleness to them. I swallowed and my level of panic lowered slightly. I took a hesitant step toward Asher, looking at only him. I watched as his eyes suddenly, sharply, shifted to his right and he held up a hand, pointing a finger at someone passed my shoulder. "Don't even fucking think about it," he said quietly, his voice dangerous and full of warning. I didn't want to know the reason for his threat. All I knew was that the entire street had gone completely silent. Asher looked at me again, and held his hand out to me. "Come here," he repeated, his voice taking on that hard and gentle quality again. "Come on." My eyes fixed on his hand, my thudding heart beating erratically in my chest as I shuffled my feet forward off of pure desire. When I was close enough, I stiffly reached out and grabbed his large hand, and then he was moving me swiftly in front of him, turning us so that I was in front of Asher and his back was to the drunken group. The hand that held mine squeezed around it, while his other hand landed on the small of my back. I looked up at him. He was glaring murderously over his shoulder but leading me out into the street toward a vehicle. He opened the door for me. "Get in," he said, staring down at me, his eyes still hard but full of questions that I didn't want to reveal answers for. I climbed into the passenger seat wordlessly, my bag on my lap, and I clutched myself, trying to make my trembling subside. I didn't look at him, but I also didn't miss the look Asher exchanged with Bailey in the backseat. As Asher started the car and pulled off, I fumbled through my bag for my meds. I located the amber bottle but didn't pull it out, miraculously managing to get the top off and two pills in my palm without much trouble, keeping my hands concealed inside my bag. I knew Asher would notice, but I brought my shaking hand to my mouth quickly and tossed the pills in, gulping them down without water. "What's that?" Asher asked immediately, suspicion evident in his voice. "Aspirin," I lied quickly, and I knew he knew I was lying, but he gave it to me anyway. We drove toward Bloomfield in silence as I waited for my nerves to soothe. When I felt somewhat in control of myself again, I glanced at him. "You called me Jewel," I said, my voice gravelly. He didn't take his eyes off the road, but I saw confusion crease his brow. "Yeah?" he replied. "You never call me Jewel," I said, echoing my thoughts from earlier. "You

always call me Juliet." He clearly didn't know where I was going with it, if anywhere. And truthfully, I wasn't going anywhere with it. I thought it best if I speak first so he couldn't ask me the questions I knew he had. "I thought that was your name," he said, gently sarcastic. "Would you prefer Juliet next time?" I allowed a tiny smile. "No. I actually hate it when people call me Juliet." He snorted quietly. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Where am I going?" I guided him through the neighborhood to my apartment, which was about a mile from the café. I reached for the door handle and turned to him, intending to thank him for the ride, and saw that he was taking his seat belt off and opening his own door. "I'll walk you to your door," he said in a tone that offered no option for refusing him. I glanced over my shoulder at Bailey, who had been silent the entire ride and whose head was laid against the seat, eyes closed. "Good night," I said softly. "It was nice to meet you." I wasn't expecting a reply, assuming he was passed out, and I jumped a little when I heard his voice reply back to me, completely awake and almost sober-sounding. "’Night, and nice to meet you, too," he offered back. "Hope to see you again soon." I wasn't sure how to reply so I merely nodded and hopped out of the car, Asher holding the door open. He pushed it closed and followed behind me as I led the way into the building and up to my apartment on the third floor. My stomach tensed. Now Asher knew where I lived. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I never wanted anyone but Ruby to know where I lived. My family obviously knew, being that my parents owned the building, but outside of them, I was extremely cautious about anyone else knowing. What if Asher was some sort of psycho, and he was going to follow me inside and do unspeakably horrible things to me? Like in New York… My heart tightened again. But when I reached my door, and turned around, I noticed that he was at least three paces behind me and studying the carpeted floor. When he realized that I’d come to a stop, he looked up, meeting my eyes that I knew were wide with a mixture of fear, expectation, and uncertainty. He took a few ambling steps toward me, his hands in his pockets, and as I studied him, I noticed for the first time how good he looked. I was used to seeing him in sweats, athletic clothing, with either a skullcap or a hat on his head, or his hair damp and matted from sweat. But tonight, he was

wearing a long-sleeved black sweater that looked light and soft and clung to his body just right, with a nice pair of jeans and dark shoes. He even had a little product in his normally messy hair, and now he was close enough for me to smell his spicy cologne. I sucked in a breath, louder than I meant to as his gaze locked onto mine. We studied each other's faces for what felt like an eternity, and my heart kicked into another level of irregularity when his eyes dropped to my lips, his tongue flicking out between his own to moisten them. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Kiss me, don't kiss me. Kiss me, don't kiss me. Kiss me, don't... My arms involuntarily rose and I hugged my bag to my chest, pressing my back against my door. The action was completely independent of my conscious thought, and he didn't miss it, his eyes going over me quickly. "Better go on in," he finally said, dropping his eyes. His hands never left his pockets and he subtly retreated a step. I gulped, feeling relief flood through me, mixed with a strange twinge of disappointment. "Thanks for the ride," I squeaked, turning to grab for the handle. "Sure," he replied. "Anytime. Sweet dreams, Jewel." "Sweet dreams, Asher," I responded without looking at him, and rushed inside. I shut and triple-locked my door, then collapsed against it. I felt anxiety rippling through me again, but this time, it wasn't due to paralyzing fear. The reason for it was completely different altogether. And that reason was walking down the hall and out of my building.

Chapter Nine Him “CLOSIN’ TIME, BOSS,” Connor announced. "Got all the equipment sanitized, most of the clients have left. All except Mac." My ears perked up. "She came tonight?" Connor shrugged. "As always. That surprise you?" His eyes narrowed as he examined my face. "Everything cool after Trinity’s?" Connor and Leon had both left early, so they hadn't witnessed the scene outside the bar. I looked away and rose from my desk, gathering my leather jacket, gym bag, keys and water bottle. I shrugged. "Just fine." "C'mon, man," Connor said, standing to the side to let me pass through the door. "What happened? I can tell something's up." I hesitated. I didn't want to tell Connor too much; whatever was going on with Jewel wasn't anyone's business but hers. Plus, I didn't want to give my brash friend any fodder to potentially torture her with. He meant well, but Connor had a habit of thinking he was funny when no one else did. "Some drunk guys gave her a hard time, is all," I said. "She's fine though." "Oh, save the day, did you? Big man," Connor chortled as we headed into the gym. "No," I grunted. "Anyway, you’d better shut the hell up about it in front of her." Connor just shook his head and laughed. "Everything look good, man?" he asked, sweeping his arm over the expanse of the gym. I knew how eager he was to get home. He had a date tonight. With the gymnast. I glanced around. “Not sure…” I said, watching a frown morph into his usual puppy-dog face. "Yeah. Go home," I said, waving him off. “And remember—wear a rubber.” As Connor left, I crossed the gym, rounding the corner of the ring in the middle of the room. I could hear the steady thump of Jewel's fists on the bag. A day hadn’t gone on by that I didn’t think of Jewel. I knew something bad had happened to her in the past. It made my veins pump hard knowing that someone had hurt her. I knew she was having some sort of anxiety attack outside the bar. It was nothing new to me. Reminded me of Mom, and some of my Marines. To me, all signs pointed to her suffering from PTSD. But what the PTSD could be a result of—I had no idea. I wanted to know, but I also knew what it was like to have people not minding their goddamn business. If Jewel wanted me to know—she'd

let me know. As I went up to her, I noticed that she was beating the bag with new intensity, her arms quivering with fatigue. Her sharp exhales of breath had turned to grunts. She was overdoing it and risking injury. I leaned into her vision like I always did, as not to startle her as much. Her eyes immediately shifted to me, and I saw fire and anger snapping in the deep chocolate-brown depths. She dropped her arms, still staring into my eyes and stood still, her chest heaving. I swallowed, unsure of what to say. I hadn't seen her look like this before. Finally, I cleared my throat. "You all right?" Abruptly, she yanked her headphones off her head and dropped her mitts to the ground. "Fine." I didn't know everything there was to know about women, but what little I did know, told me that she was actually completely opposite of ‘fine.’ I sensed that rebutting her or probing further would likely make things worse, so I left it alone. "Hey," I said, switching gears. She glanced up at me, one of her brows raised questioningly. Curiosity pushed the fire out of her eyes and I was glad to see it. "I need your help." "My help?" she repeated, the other brow joining the first. "What could you possibly need my help with?" "Well, it's something you already shot me down for," I said, folding my arms. "I finally have a plan worked out for the women's self-defense course. Now that you know I'm not a total piece-of-shit, maybe you'll be willing to help me work the moves out." She shrugged. "Why can't you use Connor or Leon or someone?" "I need a female body," I replied bluntly. A second later, I heard in my head how it must’ve sounded and shook my head as Jewel hid a grin. "Not like that, smart ass. The course is designed for women; I need to make sure that it works with a woman's body, that the moves aren't too advanced for beginners and what not." I saw her hesitation. "What's wrong?" "Well, I've sparred before," she began, "in New York with my trainer. But that was like, boxing type stuff and we didn't do that very often. I'm not sure how well I'd fare with self-defense stuff." "It's not unlike boxing," I said with a shrug. "There are just other elements." I paused, studying her face as she studied her hands. "You would really be helping me out." Finally, she sighed and lifted her head, nodding. "All right. I suppose I owe you a favor from Saturday night, anyway." I hadn’t planned on bringing up what happened outside Trinity’s, for her comfort, and I'd expected that she wouldn't either. But she was braver than most it

seems. I was glad. She smiled uncertainly at me, as though she wasn't sure how I'd received her comment. I waved a hand. "No big deal," I said. "Let's get in the ring." I leaped up into the ring and pulled the ropes back slightly so she could hop up beside me. She stood with her back to the ropes, hugging herself as I moved into the center of the ring. "All right," I said, "come here. I'm going to show you how to hit angles." Jewel stepped toward me hesitantly, still hugging herself. I smirked and reached out, pulling gently at one of her arms. "You have to put your arms down. Stand like this." I showed her a proper, basic fighting stance and she mimicked me. "Now. I want you to come toward my shoulder. When you get there, you're going to take your hands and push off, throwing me to the side. This is effective for when an attacker is coming at you head on. You hit your angle, shove him away, and run. Got it?" I demonstrated slowly against her, turning my body away from her slightly, stepping up to her side, and using my hands to push at her shoulder, sending her stumbling back several steps as I moved away. She nodded, and I resumed my place in the center of the ring, facing her head on. "All right. I'm going to stand still. You hit your angle on both sides." Jewel demonstrated, and I nodded my approval. "That was good. Easy?" "Yes," she replied. "Easy." We practiced that several more times, before I showed her how to take it to the next level if staying and fighting was the only option. I showed her how to reach up and grab an assailant by the back of the head and bring the head down, to ram it with the knee. I fetched a padded helmet with a front cover guard on it and told her to go to town. "Really go for it," I said. "You won't hurt me." “That’s disappointing,” she smirked. Jewel hit her angle and then whirled to the side, grasping the back of my head and yanking it down, while bringing her knee up to the front of my helmet. I was pleased that she'd caught on so quickly. I made her do it over and over, then practiced both moves together until I was satisfied with her progress. Next, I took her through some exercises to show her how to block strikes, how important it was to watch an opponent's shoulders and not their eyes, to be able to gauge from where they were going to throw their next punch. "Now, I want to show you how to get out of a hold," I said, a little while later. I was starting to work up a sweat, and Jewel was finally starting to loosen up. She genuinely seemed to be enjoying herself, and I could tell she was growing more and more empowered with every new maneuver I taught her. Which was precisely my goal of the course—to empower women to be able to take care of themselves

in a hairy situation. I felt good. My course could be a success. "There's a couple of ways you can go about this," I added. I moved in front of Jewel, giving her my back. "All right. Put me in a hold." I stood, waiting, and after a long pause, glanced over my shoulder. Jewel was flushing slightly as she stared at my back. "What's the problem?" I asked. "Huh?" Jewel's head snapped up, meeting my gaze. "What's the problem? Grab me." "Uh, yeah," she muttered. "Right." Her arms slid around me gingerly. I bit back a smile and shook my head. "Jewel. Grab me like you mean it. This won't work otherwise. I won’t break. This body is made of hard stuff." I heard her sigh and mumble something before her arms finally tightened around me. I wiggled slightly, testing the strength of her grasp, and was satisfied it would work to demonstrate the move. "All right," I said over my shoulder. "Say someone comes up behind you and pins your arms to your sides, and you can't get out. What you should do is swing one of your legs in a giant step behind both of you, plant it right behind their leg, and throw your hip to put them off-balance. Then you can start throwing elbows, breaking the hold, getting away. Sometimes it might be a little bit more of a fight if they're not willing to let you go. You can try twisting out of their grasp like this." I showed her, and she nodded. "Let's try it again." She repositioned her arms, and I executed the move. Then, in a flash of mischievousness I couldn't help, I grabbed her around the waist once she was offbalance, lifted her, and slammed her on her back on the mat. I leaned over her and grinned as her eyes went wide and the air rushed out of her lungs from the impact with a breathless laugh. "Sorry," I said. "I couldn't resist." I hopped to my feet and held out a hand to help her up. She ignored it and rolled to her feet. "You know I'm going to find a way to get you back for that," she threatened playfully. "I don't know how or when. But I swear to you, you’re going down and you’re going to cry." I afforded her a rare, full-mouthed grin. "I can’t wait for that day, Jewel. If that happens, I’ll eat my shoe." I motioned her into the center of the ring. "All right. Now you show me." I stepped up behind her and was momentarily distracted by her smell; it was a combination of her shampoo, the lingering perfume on her skin, and her sweat. It was intoxicating and heady, and I realized as I took a deep breath, how much I liked it. I slowly slipped my arms around her, tightening my hold. I swallowed hard. As for the first time, I realized that she was pressed against my body. It’d been

different when I was in ‘teacher’ mode. Now, I was all too aware of the feeling of her skin against me, how her small body felt in my arms, the feeling of her rounded, curvy buttocks pressing into the tops of my thighs. Fuck. I forced the thought from my mind as my cock began to swell. Teacher mode. Secure that shit, Prince. Think of Connor butt-naked. Think of his hairy sweaty ass— When Jewel felt my arms tighten around her, she swung her leg back behind me, like I had shown her, and moved her hips hard. I instantly lost my balance. I felt a sharp elbow dig into my ribs and the air expelled from my lungs. The next thing I knew, I had fallen over on my ass after a hard shove to my chest. Jewel loped around the ring, laughing at me openly. “Did I just take down The Tornado? Did I just make the infamous, unbeatable champion Tornado, cry?” she said, doing a victory dance. I mock-glared at her as I got to my feet, but couldn't fight another smirk. "All right," I said, rubbing my torso where she had elbowed me good. "Anyone ever tell you how to play it cool?” I laughed. “Nope. So which will it be? Right or left?” “Huh?” I asked, confused. “Your shoe. Will you eat the left shoe or the right shoe?” I tilted my head to the side, and narrowed my eyes at her playfully. “I’ll eat your shoes if you don’t quit.” “Whatever. Can’t wait to tell Connor about this,” she smirked. “Yeah, yeah. We're even. Well done." Jewel smiled at me and shrugged her shoulders modestly. "We're going to do that once more, but this time, I want it to be as real as possible. So you're not going to know when I grab you, and I'm going to really grab you hard. We need to make this as realistic as possible. Okay?" Jewel gave me a single nod and turned again, her back to me. I stood a few paces behind her, and waited. I watched as her body tensed up as the seconds went on, saw her head involuntarily move slightly as though she tried to look over her shoulder, but caught herself. I let her stand there a few more minutes, then I silently, quickly, darted forward and grabbed her. I heard her gasp audibly, and her body immediately tensed and began to thrash. I didn't say a word but held on, mentally urging her to move into action. Suddenly, I felt her body go limp in my arms and the sound of her rapid breathing filled our small space. One of my forearms was over her chest, and I could feel her pulse take off in a rapid pace. Shit. "Jewel!" I shouted. She would have sunk to the floor of the ring if I hadn't been holding her. Her

breathing was starting to freak me out, so I lowered us both to the floor. I sank to my knees as she sprawled in front of me, her back still pressed against me. I fumbled one hand to her face, gripping her cheek to turn her around to face me. I sucked in a breath, seeing her eyes wide and unseeing of me; that horrible, deeprooted fear filled them. I gently shook her. "Jewel," I said louder, more gruffly. Just like it had outside the lounge, speaking her name that way drew her attention and her eyes shifted to me, blinking slowly. Her breathing was still heavy and increased, almost like she was having an asthma attack. "Meds," she rasped out. "Bag." I let her go gently, then scrambled out of the ring to where her gym bag was still on the floor, next to her favorite punch bag. I grabbed the whole bag and hurried back to the ring. I slid the bag over to her, hard, before launching myself after it and moving to her side. Her hands were shaking so badly, she couldn't grasp the zipper. I took it from her and opened it. "Where?" I asked quietly. "Inner pocket," she whispered back, her entire body shaking now. I found the pocket and unzipped it, immediately locating the small amber bottle that was all too familiar to me. I handed it over, realizing my dumb mistake when her hands trembled over the lid. I took the bottle back from her and glanced at the label. I inwardly shook my head as I recognized the label for an anti-anxiety medication. I read the dosage and poured out two pills into my palm and gave them to her, along with my water bottle. I didn't watch as she gulped the pills and water down. I knew I had been against it before, but the urge to ask for answers was strong on my tongue. I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from barraging her with questions. We sat quietly and I listened as her breathing slowed and regulated itself. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes and saw that her shaking had mostly subsided. She sat, hugging her knees to her chest as she tried to hand me back my bottle of water. I noticed she had only taken enough to swallow down the pills and I shook my head, waving the bottle back to her. "You drink it," I said. "You should drink more than that." She didn't meet my eyes as she drained the rest of the bottle, though I sensed she knew I was watching her. There was a look of almost guilt on her face, as though she knew I had a million questions and she didn't want to answer any of them. "Jewel..." I began finally, and her head snapped up. She met my eyes and I saw that hers were naked with emotion. "Please," she said softly. "Please don't ask me anything. Not right now." She swallowed hard. "I-I know I owe you an explanation. But I can't right now. I just

can't." I studied her face. "Jewel, you don’t owe me anything but I want you to let me in," I said slowly. "When you came into my life, I didn’t know what this was. I hesitated. Didn’t have a clue. Then you called me a friend. I get it now. You’re a friend that’s made me laugh a little louder, smile a little bigger, and makes me want to live just a little bit better. So whatever’s keeping you silent from me, I’ll wait. Because I think you’re strong enough to beat it. I just—if you're going through something, I can help you. And if I can’t, I’ll do whatever it takes to become someone who can. I'm as fucked up as they come," I added lightly, and was pleased to see a tiny smile cross her face. “You always seem to know exactly what to say to make me feel a little bit better.” She whispered it so softly, I wasn’t sure if I was meant to hear her. She was still hugging her knees, but her body seemed to have stopped shaking. I got to my feet and extended my hand again. She looked at it, then up at me. Hesitantly, she reached out and grabbed it. I pulled her easily to her feet and looked down into her face. "You hungry?" I asked. She looked a little taken aback and glanced at her watch. She looked back up at me and smiled uncertainly. "Asher, it's, like, midnight," she said. I shrugged. "So what? Unless you’re Cinderella and plan to change when the clock strikes twelve.” That got her laughing, even though it was short-lived. “You hungry?" Her smile grew slightly and she shrugged. "Sure." "There's a place down the street that makes the best cheesesteaks you've ever had," I said. "My treat." She studied my face a moment longer then nodded. "Okay. Let me go get my stuff." I waited by the door, and she reappeared a little later, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. We walked down the street in comfortable silence, although my mind was still whirling from her ‘episode’ in the ring. It was clear she’d suffered at the hands of a monster. It’d been clear from the night I'd witnessed her attack at my gym. I’m pretty sure what had been done to her, but I sincerely hoped I was mistaken. Because if I was right, I needed to hunt someone down and make them pay. I glanced down at her from the corner of my eye and couldn't help noticing how different she looked than she had at Trinity’s. There, she had looked like a star, a model or something. Now, she was back to her normal self. She was possibly even more beautiful to me stripped down this way. I felt like I was really seeing

her. "There it is," I said, pointing to a little corner restaurant. "They're always open late." I held the door open for her and she walked past, giving me a nod of thanks. "Isn't this against your training diet?" she asked, folding her arms and scanning the menus on the wall behind the counter. "I won't tell if you won't," I replied. "Do you know what you want?" "I'll have what you're having," Jewel replied. I stepped up to the counter. "Two cheese whiz, please," I said quickly, and the cook nodded and set to making our sandwiches. "Does this really count since we're in Pittsburgh?" Jewel asked with a smirk. "Absolutely," I replied. "Everybody in PA takes their cheesesteaks seriously. Everybody." When our orders were up, I handed Jewel one of the cardboard trays and moved toward the row of countertops against the front window. We took stools and I glanced over at her, seeing her examining her sandwich crammed with thinly sliced rib-eye, cheese whiz, and grilled onions. She looked up with a smile. "Looks good," she said. "Looks like you did it right." She picked up her sandwich and took an enormous bite as I glared at her playfully. "I did it right?" I repeated. "Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing," Jewel said, around her big mouthful. "I think I'm the native here," I shot back. She shrugged and chewed. "Fucking New Yorkers," I teased, taking my own bite. I enjoyed watching her appreciate her sandwich. I'd always liked a healthy appetite in a woman. "It's good?" I asked after a few mouthfuls. Jewel gave an enthusiastic nod, unable to speak because of the monstrous bite she'd just taken. She swallowed. "Possibly the best thing I've eaten here besides my mother's cooking." "Your mom's a good cook?" I asked. "The best," Jewel replied, pulling a piece of bread off her sandwich and swiping up a bit of cheese whiz. “What about your mother?” I looked out the window. “My mom passed away nine years ago, when I was sixteen.” “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” “Thank you.” I turned my gaze back to Jewel. “Before the cancer took her, my mom had decided she wanted to get into cooking.” I smiled, remembering. “I ate so many awful meals back then, pretending to like them. I couldn’t hurt her feelings.” “You really are a sweet guy,” Jewel said, smiling. We remained silent for a

short while, both consuming our cheesesteaks. "My mom grew up in my Nonna's kitchen,” she finally said. “Sunday dinner is a staple in our family and she always makes enough for an army. Although, there's almost that many people in my parents’ home every Sunday." "You got a big family?" I asked. "Pretty big," Jewel replied. "I have two older sisters. They're both married and have two kids apiece. Then there's Uncle Gino. So it's pretty crowded in there." She smiled. "But that's what makes it so much fun." "You close to your sisters?" Jewel nodded. "Very close. They’re both in their early thirties. I'm the baby at twenty-three, but we've always been close. Had a lot of fights growing up," she added, "but we've always been close." "So your whole family lives in Pittsburgh now?" I asked. "Yeah," Jewel replied. "We were all born and raised in New York. Rachael came out here with her husband first. The rest of us were in New York. Then when we came out here, Alexis joined a law firm and her husband's a doctor. So they were able to get jobs relatively easy. My parents invested in the apartment complex and then the bakery. They always wanted a couple of family businesses." "And what about you?" "Me?" Jewel replied. "Well. I already told you I was a dancer. I want to open my own studio one day. I'm getting closer. Not having to pay rent helps, living in the family building. Just saving my money. There's a spot downtown, an old studio that hasn't been claimed yet. That's what I really want. I'm saving enough money until the bank will grant me the loan for the space. They won't give me the whole amount so I have to have enough for a down payment. I'm just scared someone will snap it up before me." "I hope you get it," I said sincerely. "Teaching dance at the Y getting old?" "Thanks," Jewel replied quietly, smiling at me slightly. "I love teaching at the Y. I just wish it was my place. But at least this way I have a rehearsal space for myself instead of my living room." "Rehearsal space?" I repeated. Jewel rolled her eyes and shook her head, but smiled still. "My friend Ruby, she forced me to enter this talent showcase. It's a community thing; they want all kinds of artists, musicians, dancers. I haven't danced in front of a crowd in over a year. But it's coming up in a couple of months, so I've been using my studio space at the Y to work on it. Ruby doesn't know that yet though, I don't want her getting all excited. I might back out." "Don't do that," I said automatically. "Don't back out. You should do it. Anyway, I need to see it."

Jewel gaped at me. "You want to see me dance?" "Yeah. Why not? You’re talented. You’ve got gifted grace when you train. And people without talent don't usually grow up and want to have their own dance studios. So don’t be selfish and keep yourself to yourself. Let me see you." Jewel smiled down at her sandwich. "You really do have a way with words, don’t you?" A cocky smile spread across my face. "Too true. So what made your family want to move from New York?" I asked, and immediately I saw her lit up face darken. She didn't answer right away. "Jewel?" She pushed the remains of her sandwich away as though she'd lost her appetite. I knew immediately that it had something to do with her present state, and I held my breath, wondering if she would come clean with me finally. She heaved a heavy sigh and looked out the window. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and began to worry it. I sat patiently, pushing my own sandwich away, waiting for her to speak. She finally turned her eyes to meet me, and I saw on her face that she understood I knew by now that the two were connected, and that I knew there was something really wrong with her. "Something…happened to me," she started softly, dropping her eyes. "In New York. Something bad. And while I recovered from it physically, I really had a hard time with it...emotionally. I went to therapy for my mind like I went to therapy for my body, but I made progress with one and not the other. My parents decided that I needed a change of scenery, and made the decision to move out here with Rachael and her husband. And because we're as close as we are, Alexis and her husband came too, so we could all be together again." "That’s one hell of a family, Jewel," I said evenly. I looked at her in silence for a long time before speaking up. “I haven’t had much in life recently that’s made me want something as badly as wanting you to tell me what happened—so I can do whatever it takes to fix you, fix the sadness I see in your eyes. But this isn’t about what I want. I just want you to know, I’m waiting. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be there.” She quickly reached out for our trash and gathered it up, sliding off her stool. "It's getting late," she said, dumping the trash into the trash can. I knew my words were intense. But that was me. I couldn’t change who I was any more than she could change who she was. "I better go before the buses stop running." I decided not to point out that it would be hours and hours before that happened, but merely nodded, rising from my stool and pushing the door open for her. I walked her to the bus stop and waited with her. We were silent but I could feel her looking up at me anxiously, over and over. I glanced back down at her

finally and gave her a half-smile. When the bus arrived, she was surprised when I climbed aboard after her and dropped into the seat next to her. "You take this bus?" she asked, almost nervously. I shook my head. "Nah. I take the other bus. I just want to make sure you get home okay. I'm not stalking you, I promise." She seemed genuinely astonished. "I'm not sure where you live, but it'll take you almost two hours to get home with the way these buses run...You don't have to do this. You should go home. It's late and I'm sure you've had a long day." "Sorry, Jewel. But you can’t get rid of me so easily. I am what I am. You can call me your ‘Make-sure-you-get-home-safe-every-night’ Officer. There’s no arguing with a Marine," I replied simply, and effectively ended her protests. I stared ahead during the ride while she opted to look out the window, but I saw in the large rearview mirror at the head of the bus that she turned to look at me a few different times. When we finally reached her neighborhood, I walked beside her quietly down the street to her building. The streets were peacefully quiet, but I knew it wasn't particularly safe for any woman to be walking by herself so late at night. I followed her to the entrance of the building, silently insisting on walking her to her door again. When we reached her front door, she turned to face me. "Well," she began, playing with her keys. "Um. Thank you, Officer Make-SureI-Get-Home-Safe-Every-Night,” she said, in a voice meant to poke fun at me. “Is that supposed to be me?” I asked, my brows lifted. “Because I’m pretty sure my voice is way more manlier and sexy than that.” She shook her head mischievously. “No, it isn’t.” We both laughed together then. “No really…thanks for dinner, for seeing me home and for...helping me out. For not pushing me." I looked down at her and felt my insides working strangely. I felt a tingling heat in my chest and adrenaline creeping through me. It was all a very foreign feeling, but I was feeding off of it. It was almost a high. One I wanted to keep feeling till the day I died. "I’d do anything for you, Jewel," I replied. I jammed my hands into my pockets and took a step back, preparing to wish her a good night and beat my retreat. But I started in surprise when I felt her small hand reach out and take hold of my forearm. My eyes flew to her face as she stepped closer, and I froze when I felt her arms go around my torso, slowly. I was shocked, mostly because I'd picked up that she had a thing with personal space, but she was hugging me. I didn’t hug. It wasn’t something I did, if ever. The last woman I’d hugged had been my mother. But this felt… right. I shook myself and slipped my arms around

her in return. I felt her cheek press into my chest and my heart was beating madly. My mind whirled in confusion when I felt her give me a tiny squeeze before stepping back. She met my eyes, her own bold but shy. She dropped her arms and my hands found my pockets again as I cleared my throat and flushed slightly. "Sweet dreams," she said softly. I nodded, unable to form words, but waited in the hallway until I heard her locks slide into place. I headed down the stairs and out of her building, heading back to the bus stop. I leaned against the shelter and sighed deeply, feeling a strange, alien emotion creeping through me. It was confusing. Disarming. As I inhaled, and her sweet scent lingered in my nose, I realized it was also something I couldn’t live without. I’ll be damned if I ever let her go.

Chapter Ten Him I ARRIVED AT the gym early the next morning. I always did to get in some training before opening. I rounded the corner of the ring and noticed a small object in the center. As I got closer, I saw that it was Jewel's meds. I stepped into the ring and leaned down to scoop it up. "Shit," I muttered. How had we overlooked that last night? What if something happened to her during the day and she needed them? I glanced at my watch. It was six-thirty. I figured she might be up this early, but I wasn't sure. I shuffled back to my office and pulled out her file. I dialed the phone number she’d listed, but received an automated message that the number I'd dialed was no longer in service. "Well, shit," I grumbled to myself and tossed my cell on the desk. How had getting her phone number escaped me over the past two months? I'd have to try and drop them off to her later today. I just hoped she wouldn't need them until then. The day proved to be busy, and my original plan of dropping off Jewel's medication at lunchtime went out the window. At least Jewel hadn't called about her meds, so I guessed she was okay for the time being. I finally left around six and headed for Bloomfield. I figured my first stop should be the café. When I arrived and pushed through the door, the waitress called Ruby came out from the back. "Oh, hi," she said. "Sorry. I should have locked the door. We're pretty much closed up for the night, hun." She gestured behind her to the disassembled espresso machines. "I can't make you a...latte." She snickered on the last word. I wasn’t stupid to know why. "No, that's ok," I said quickly. "Is Jewel around?" I pulled the bottle from my pocket and held it up. "She left these at the gym last night. I wanted to get them back to her earlier but the gym was crazy today." "Oh…" Ruby replied, fixing her gaze on the bottle. She met my eyes and a look of understanding passed between us. "Well. No, she's not here. She left a little early to go drop off the deposit at the bank, then she said she was going to the Y." "She doesn't teach tonight," I said, but it came out like a question. "I thought she taught on Wednesdays." "Yeah, that’s right. She does," Ruby confirmed, smiling. "She went to work on her piece for the showcase. I know she thinks I don't know she's working on

something, but I do. Something seems to have changed in her in the last month or two. Anyway, she seemed a little stressed out today and said she was going straight to the Y after the bank. You can probably find her there. Just call her and let her know you're coming." "I don't have her number," I replied. "Haven't you escorted her home like, a million times now? She's like at your gym every single night." Ruby leaned on the counter. “Officer Safety,” she said pointedly, smirking. Women. Was there anything they didn’t discuss? “Hey, love your work. She deserves that kind of treatment,” she continued. “It’s about time.” I shrugged. Ruby shook her head and withdrew a piece of paper from underneath the register, jotting a number down and then slid the scrap over the counter across to me. "Won't she mind you giving out her number?" I asked, taking the scrap and tucking it into my pocket. Ruby shrugged. "It's not like you're a perfect stranger," she said. "And frankly, I don't care what she wants. I want you to have her number." She smiled pleasantly. I smirked back at her and nodded. I turned to go, then stopped and looked back at Ruby. "She say why she was stressed out?" I damn-well hoped it wasn’t because of me. Ruby studied me knowingly. I got the feeling that she knew everything about Jewel and me. "Well, a number of reasons, I'm sure. I understand she had a bit of a late night, last night." She lifted a brow at me before continuing. "She got some mail she wasn't particularly happy with but wouldn't tell me what it was. And, she's upset that her favorite ballet is coming into town and she can't go see it." "What ballet?" I asked. "Why can't she go? She working?" "Tickets are just really expensive and she can't afford it," Ruby said. "I would have loved to have gotten her tickets, but I'm just a broke college student." "She said you paid for her entry fee for that dance thing, by the way," I said. "Good work." Ruby smiled. "Yes, well, I am the best. I knew she never would have done it if I hadn't. But that was most of my free money, so now I'm reduced to eating Ramen again." She shrugged, but I could tell she wasn't being serious. "Well. I guess I'll go look for her at the Y, then." I turned and headed for the door, then turned back, my hand on the knob. "What's the name of that ballet?" Ruby glanced at me sharply, and smiled with something like approval. "It's called Giselle," she answered. "It's in two weeks time. At The Glass Slipper. Eight o'clock. Oh, and her favorite restaurant is Elements, which is only about a

five-minute cab ride from the theater." She smiled so innocently that I couldn't help smiling. "Duly noted."

Her I WAS BREATHING hard, sweating, and glaring at my reflection in the long mirror that covered the entire wall of the studio. I was finally being called. To end it. But there is no end. Not for me. It would never go away. All I wanted to do was to not think about the letter I had received this morning. To believe it didn’t exist. Maybe then it would fade from memory. There wasn’t a letter hiding under the sofa cushion at my apartment, I kept repeating. Waiting for me. Calling me. The letter that would drag me back to Hell, despair, torture, and an endless darkness. I headed over to the stereo system to restart my song. I'd been working on this dance piece for an hour, just letting my body and training take over. The opening strains of the song seeped out from the machine and I stood still, my eyes closed. As the singer's haunting, melodic voice flowed around me, I began to move, still in darkness. I let the notes, the voice, the melody control my movements, fade the dark thoughts, as I glided around the room. My muscles strained from fatigue, but I refused to be tired. I pointed my toes sharply, my thigh muscles aching as I forced my legs straight up in controlled grande battements, my calves tensing as I pushed up en pointe, turning pirouettes and fouettes. The emotional words flooded through my body; the song was melancholy, the singer begging a lover not to leave her as she sought her own freedom on the open road. As the music and lyrics reached its climax, I leapt through the air, each leg extending sharply in front of and behind me. For a moment my conscious mind left me, only my eyes opened to watch myself in the mirror. I felt strong. I hadn't danced like this in a long time and I observed my own body, lost to the control of my muscles and emotion and training, moving to a song that evoked great emotion within me. It was nothing I'd rehearsed or worked out prior to this exact moment. I was just moving but it made sense. I was telling a story with my body. My story. As the song ended and I came to a gradual stop, I found myself crying. I studied my reflection in the mirror, seeing my eyes glistening with tears. One slipped down my cheek as I examined myself, my chest heaving from exertion. But I no longer felt the tiredness anymore.

A movement, behind the window that peeked into the studio, reflected in the mirror. I whirled around. Asher. He was standing in the window, watching me with something like awe. I quickly brushed away my tears and moved to the door, pulling it open. I was embarrassed. I never danced for anyone except my students. Even then, it had only been to show them technique. No one I knew had ever seen me dance with true emotion and passion like this for a long time, and it made me feel...alive. "Hey," I said uncertainly, praying all traces of tears were gone from my face. "What are you doing here?" "I came to bring you your meds," he replied, pulling the bottle out of his pocket and holding it out. "You left them at the gym last night." My eyes widened as I took the bottle. How could I be so irresponsible? I nodded up at him. "Thanks," I said softly. "You came all the way out here just to drop off my medication?" "I didn't know if you'd need them or not," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. I was touched, and again felt amazement at how sweet and thoughtful he could be. "Listen," he started, staring into my studio, "I don't know anything about ballet. It’s not something I've ever been into before, or ever had a reason to pay attention to. But that—what you just did in there—that was impressive. Real fucking impressive." His cloudy blue eyes met mine and were filled with genuine appreciation when he smiled. "I think you just made a believer out of me." I smiled back, his compliment making me feel humbled and touched. "Thanks," I replied quietly. "That really means a lot to me." I held up the medication bottle. "And this. I can't believe that you came out here to bring it to me." Asher shrugged and averted his eyes. "Weren’t nothing,” he said. “Anything, remember?" His words made my heart stumble. "Are…are you heading back to the gym?" I asked, changing the subject. "Yeah," Asher answered. "Eventually. I feel like I practically live there. It's nice to get out once in a while." "Well," I said, "if you're not in a huge hurry, do you want to grab some frozen yogurt? I owe you for the sandwiches and now for bringing my meds. My sister is picking me up in an hour, so, maybe you could wait with me?" He glanced down at me. "You’ll never owe me for anything," he said sincerely. "But yeah—it’s my duty to wait with you." He stepped back, and his smile blazed through me.

"Okay, uh, let me grab my things." I turned and reentered the studio. I quickly crossed the wooden floor to the sound system and unhooked my cell phone. Trotting back over to my things, I changed my shoes and quickly threw my leather jacket on. I shouldered my bag and exited the studio, turning off the lights as I let the door fall shut behind me. Asher followed me out of the Y and out into the drizzly evening. I pulled my scarf over my head and walked down the sidewalk. My favorite yogurt place was just down the block. Asher sauntered along behind me, his baseball cap pulled low over his face and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. I had a feeling that it had more to do with the many stares of recognition he drew and less with the weather. "Do you like frozen yogurt?" I asked, pushing into the small, brightly lit shop. There were only two other customers there and the scent of sweet yogurt filled my nose. "Sure," Asher replied with a shrug. "What's not to like?" He followed my example, grabbing a cardboard bowl and moved toward the soft-serve yogurt machines. He opted for a simple, low-fat vanilla and added a little granola and a variety of fresh berries. “You really know how to live,” I said, dryly. I filled my cup with my favorite flavor. Chocolate peanut butter with chopped Oreos. Then I sprinkled some raw chocolate-chip cookie dough, and a drizzle or three of chocolate syrup. Asher looked at me in disgust. I gave him a scornful look and said, “Hey, don’t judge me. I earned this today.” Asher couldn't help chuckling. I took his bowl from his hand and set it on the scale at the register along with my own, and pulled my wallet out. Asher held out a hand. "The hell you think you’re doing?" he began. "Hush," I shot back and handed the cashier some money before taking my change and tucking my wallet away. I handed Asher his. "Here's your boring yogurt, sir. I said it was my treat. So be man enough to take it." Asher smiled and swirled his spoon around. "Fine. Thanks. It would probably look more like yours if I wasn't training," he reminded me. "Trust me, when it comes to food, I hate my life lately." "I don't blame you," I replied. "Mine is definitely going to be way better than yours." I pushed through the door to head back outside and we took a seat on the wooden bench just outside the shop, under the awning. I glanced at Asher, who was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hunched over his bowl. "Is this okay?" I asked, realizing he might not want to be outside. "Sorry, I was just thinking how much I love the rain and the smell. We can go back inside if you like." "No, I'm good," Asher said, taking a spoonful of yogurt. "I like the rain too."

We both tucked into the yoghurt heaven, and I enjoyed the cool rain and the earthy smelling breeze. “So how come you called your gym ‘Blaise’s?’ And not after your own name?” “I don’t own it outright. After Sparta last year, well, I don’t know if you realized this, but it kinda made me a bit of a MMA star.” “I think the scary horde of women made the point to me,” I said, smirking. “Yeah…” He blew out a deep breath, like it was a burden to have women worshipping his feet all week long. “So Blaise, my manager, realized he was up to his eyeballs in gym applicants. His dirty little hole in the wall turned into a gold mine overnight. Guys were climbing over themselves to get managed by him, after seeing what he'd done for me. They all wanted a piece.” “I bet they did,” I said, taking another mouthful of yoghurt. This time, I made sure there was nothing hanging off my mouth. “That’s when Blaise decided he wanted to pursue management full-time. He’s making money hand-over-fist now. When he went full-time, he made me partner and manager of Blaise’s Gym. Who'd have thought that an angry ex-Marine bastard like me would be a business owner?” “And successful, to boot?” I added, noting his modest reaction. We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Asher spoke up again. "You're a hard person to track down," he said lightly. I glanced at him. "What do you mean?" "I tried to call you about your meds. The number you listed on your gym application said it was out of service." Asher swirled a berry in his yogurt before popping his spoon in his mouth. "Oh…yeah…" I said uncomfortably. "That. Well, I haven't had that phone number for a few months now." "I figured as much," Asher said and reached into his pocket. "Your girl at the café gave me this." I took the scrap from his fingers and saw that it was my own phone number written out in Ruby's large, bubbly handwriting. She had drawn several hearts and kisses at the end. I would kill her. I returned it. "You should send me a text or something so I have yours, too." I felt awkward saying so; I hadn't discussed exchanging numbers with a guy in a very long time. "Your friend also mentioned you've been having a rough day," Asher added, spooning up some more yogurt. He didn't look at me. "Want to talk about it?" I sighed and popped a giant spoonful of my concoction into my mouth before answering. No, I really didn't want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about the official letter that came in the mail this morning. The one asking me to go back to the pits of Hell. But I knew my weak story from the other night hadn't really done

anything to provide any solid answers. Answers I knew that Asher sort of deserved. But I couldn’t do it. It would only bring up a whole round of questions I didn't want to deal with. It would also bring down the darkness to this lovely night I was sharing with Asher. I didn’t want to ruin my time with him. I didn’t want to darken my time with him ever. I felt good around him. I felt…almost free of my demons when he was around. I felt safe with him. "Just life, stressing me out," I answered finally, after I swallowed. I felt his eyes on me then and knew he wasn't buying it. "And on top of that, my favorite ballet in the history of the world is coming to town and I can't even go see it." "Oh, yeah?" Asher asked, fiddling with his spoon. "What is it? Why can't you go see it?" I sighed. I knew how trivial it must sound to him, but not being able to go see Giselle was truly eating away at me. "It's called Giselle. And I wasn't going to go originally because tickets are so freaking expensive and I couldn't justify buying something that wasn't a necessity. I've been so good about not spending any extra money on stuff I don't need, so I can get that studio. Then, when I finally decided an hour ago 'to hell with it, I'm going to that ballet,' I called the box office and they said the damn thing is already sold out." "Sold out? Really?" Asher asked, glancing over at me. "Tickets to a ballet? In one day?" He caught my expression and bit back his grin. Disappointment surged through me. "People love their performing arts in this city," I replied, shrugging. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Asher said. "I can't really relate but, it's important to you and that sucks." I half-smiled at his attempt to be comforting. "It's not the end of the world," I said. "At least this way I haven't dipped into my studio fund. Eyes on the prize and all that." "Right," Asher said. "So that's it? The ballet?" He held up a hand. "Not that I'm saying that's not a big deal. Just wondering if there was anything else on your mind." I couldn't help a smile. He was trying so hard to be sweet and relate to my disappointment over the ballet. I also didn't miss the way he was prying deeper into my issues, as though he knew something else was up. "Juliet!" The impatient female voice met my ears over the distant sound of traffic. I snapped my head up in annoyance, seeing my older sister, Alexis, behind the wheel of her BMW, pulling up to the curb. She was frowning, her eyes cutting back and forth between Asher and me as she stormed toward us.

Asher smiled at the name and glanced at me. "You sure that's not your real name?" "No," I insisted. "She just does it to be annoying and when she has attitude." "Juliet!" Alexis yelled, finally standing in front of us. "Who the hell is this chump?” She scowled at Asher. “Is he hassling you? Because if you are, Mr. Hotshot, you’re going to have to deal with me and it won’t be pretty—" She clapped a hand to her forehead. Alexis's large brown eyes narrowed as they took Asher in, and as she got a good look at his face, recognition lit up in her eyes. "Oh. My. God. The Tornado! What…? What on earth is Asher Prince doing with my little sister?” Her face grimaced when she referred to me, like she thought Asher was too good for my company. “Jeez, thanks, sis,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Love you too.” “I didn’t mean it like that, Juliet,” she said, grinning at Asher like the cat who got the cream. “I’m not really sure how else you meant it,” I muttered. I heard Asher laugh at us. “Oh my god. My husband is a huge fan," she said to Asher. "Huge, huge fan.” “Alexis,” I said, tight-lipped. “You’re really embarrassing me.” "Uh, thanks," Asher replied. I groaned in embarrassment. My brother-in-law was a huge MMA fan and talked about Asher as though they knew each other in real life. "I didn't know my baby sister knew you," Alexis went on, scooting nearer to him. "She never mentioned she had famous friends." "Alexis!" I hissed, glaring. "Please! Stop already. My God." "So we'll see you Sunday, then?" Alexis went on casually and I was truly horrified. Asher looked confused. "What's Sunday?" Alexis finally acknowledged me, shifting her eyes in a glare. "You didn't ask him to Sunday dinner? What is wrong with you? Did Mamma and Papa not teach you manners?" "Alexis, for God’s sakes, what is wrong with you?" I hissed, bringing my fingers to my temples. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt Asher's elbow dig lightly into my ribs. He was loving this. I was definitely not feeling the love. "What, I'm not invited?" he asked me seriously, though his eyes betrayed his mocked hurt. His blue eyes were twinkling with mischief. I gaped at him. "Y-You want to come?" I asked, astonished. He shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Unlike you, apparently, I was taught manners. And your sister is expecting me." "The whole family," Alexis corrected. "Or, they will be when I tell them about

this." She waved a finger. "Not just any random guy off the street is going to hang around our baby sister without meeting the family. No offense. Even if my husband loves you more than me." "And so it should be," Asher replied. “I mean, me meeting the family. Not your husband loving me…” I couldn’t hold back the grin at Asher’s discomfort, even though I was still mad at my sister for embarrassing me in front of him. "Good. So we'll see you on Sunday," Alexis repeated as though I weren't sitting there. "I'll let her give you the details later." "Oh, thank you," I said sarcastically. “She’s not even using my name, now. Thanks, Asher Prince. You’ve made my family forget about me.” "Oh, stop being a baby. Get in the car," Alexis ordered. “You didn't buy me any yogurt? Jesus,” she said, shaking her head in disappointment. “Nice meeting you, Asher Prince," she added, giving him a big smile as she headed toward her car. "Nice meeting you," Asher replied. He rose when I stood up. I looked mortified. "I'm sorry," I said in a low voice. "I'm the baby of the family—they do this. You seriously do not need to come on Sunday. Just ignore Alexis." "Are you uninviting me to Sunday dinner?" Asher asked. "No—no! I mean, clearly you can come if you want, but I don't want you to feel obligated or anything..." "I wouldn’t miss it for the world," he said, smiling. I stared up at him doubtfully. "You remember I'm Italian, right?" I said, still mortified. "With a big, crazy loud family? We’ve made ball-busting into an art form. And, I repeat, I'm the baby of the family and a girl. You don't know what they'll do to you—" "Stop," Asher said with a chuckle. "I can handle myself. And, it would only make you look bad if I didn't come. Your sister just said she was going to tell your whole family she saw us together. And apparently your brother-in-law is in love with me. It’d break his heart, Juliet." "Don’t call me that or I’ll be happy to show that ball-busting art form right here, right now,” I said, smirking. “Okay, okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you," I said, more to myself. I sounded slightly panicked as I glanced over at my impatient sister. "All right then. Just tell me when and where," Asher said. He nodded toward the car. "You better go before she kills you." I sighed. "All right," I said. I gave him another doubtful look. "I—we'll talk later." I tossed my empty yogurt bowl into a nearby trashcan and climbed in beside my sister. He grinned to himself as Alexis wiggled her fingers in a goodbye wave

and I gave him an absolutely bewildered stare before pulling off. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Asher Prince, the guy I believed to be the bad-tempered, cantankerous, and scary owner of Blaise’s Gym…was going to be meeting the family.

Chapter Eleven Her “I’LL TAKE THE deposit again tonight, Ruby," I said, washing the dishes. Ruby eyed me coolly from the counter where she was making cupcakes. "Why are we in such a hurry tonight?" she asked. "You don't teach until seven. And it's only five." "I know, but, like, um..." I made a rolling motion with my index fingers, casting about for a suitable lie. "I just have some errands and such to run." "Like working on your showcase piece?" Ruby said, spooning lemon curd into the cupcakes. I sighed. I should have known better. Ruby was the closest person to me and had the uncanny ability to simply know things. "Fine," I huffed. "I just didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to think that this means I've agreed to do the showcase. I told you I would think about it." "But you are working on a piece," Ruby countered. "Yes," I reluctantly admitted. "I should be prepared in the event that I do decide to do it—but that doesn’t mean it’s final." "You are going to do it," Ruby said. "So, I'm really not sure what more there is to discuss. But it's fine with me. I don't mind if you leave early to work on your showcase piece. Or hang out with alpha-hot Asher some more. Whatever." "Oh, shut it," I said, rolling my eyes as I began to rinse off the dishes. "It's not like that. He's a friend." "Who's coming over for an Italian Sunday dinner to meet your whole entire family," Ruby reminded. "I know what that means." "Yeah, it means that he got railroaded into it when Alexis rolled up and started acting like she was running shit," I said. "He's a nice guy. What was he going to do, say no?" "Uh, yes," Ruby said patiently. "He doesn't know your family or owe them anything. You're both grown, he doesn't need your parents' permission to date you or hang out with you or whatever you two are up to. He agreed to come because he wants to. Because he is outright smitten with you." "He was just being nice and didn't want to make me look stupid in front of my sister," I insisted. "You know how Alexis is." "Well, I certainly don't know him like you know him," Ruby said, piping buttercream. "Or, well, at all for that matter. But I don't think it's rocket science,

my dear. The man likes you. So let him like you." "I'm telling you, it's not like that." I scrubbed at the mixing bowl Ruby brought over to me. "Just friends. That's all. Like you and me." Ruby rolled her blue eyes and shook her head. "You wish I looked at you with dreamy eyes like the way Asher does. You know, for a twenty-three-year-old, you are irritatingly naïve." "Your...face is naïve," I shot back lamely. Ruby laughed. "Brilliant. I see love makes you stupid.” I felt my cell phone buzz in my pocket and I quickly pulled it out, smiling when I saw whom the message was from. Since Ruby had handed out my number, Asher and I had been texting continuously. “Let me guess—Officer Safety making sure you got a safe ride secured for tonight.” I nodded in reply, still reading over his text. “It’s amazing, Ruby. Every day he makes sure I’m all right. He’ll spend countless hours riding lots of buses with me just to escort me to my door.” “No guy has ever done that for me, Jewel. God, I’m so jealous right now. That boy is something.” Asher was definitely something. He made me feel comfortable in a way I hadn't felt around the opposite sex in some time. After last year’s nightmare, I’d become a shell of my former self. Asher was the first guy outside of my family that I'd been able to look in the face, talk to, open up a little bit to. I hoped I wasn't being naïve as Ruby had mentioned, but in a completely different way. My instincts told me that I was safe, but I wasn't sure if I could trust it completely. “He is…but…” “But what?” “I’m just not sure if I can trust him. I want to. I really do… I mean, he’s pulled my ass out of the fire on a couple of different occasions and even if it’s no big deal to him—to me, they mean more than I can put into words.” “I know, hun,” Ruby said, understanding. “I don’t know what happened to you but I know it was bad. You deserve to be treated like a princess.” It was more than bad. But I also knew Asher had had his own problems once. I’d watched him on TV, and he’d always seemed so angry—the way he tore out of the ring after winning fight after fight, how he never gave interviews, how he never walked out to any music. How he never looked into the camera when it was in his face. He still had that dangerous edge I'd recognized in him then, but that deep-seated anger seemed to be gone. I wondered what had caused the anger in the first place. And I wondered how he had gotten past it. “There’s only one way to find out, Jewel,” Ruby said, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Maybe you need to let him in a little. Give him a chance.”

“How?” I asked. “Here, give me your cell.” “Why?” I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. “Just trust your best friend, okay,” she said, raising her brow. I reluctantly handed my cell over, only to watch her key in something quickly, before handing it back. I looked at the screen and read the text she wrote. ‘Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? Maybe watch a movie? xxx’ “Send it to him,” she said. I was self-aware enough to realize that fear of the unknown and my inability to really trust anyone were probably my two greatest issues. I didn't know how to help the former. The latter, though, would require a leap of faith. “I can’t—look, I need to get to the bank. It’s a nice idea, Ruby, but I’m not ready. Not yet.” “I get it,” she replied sincerely. “Get gone. Go work on something awesome and make me proud." Saying goodbye, I grabbed the deposit bag and exited the café. Maybe I was being a coward. Maybe Ruby was right. I needed to give Asher a chance. I felt like I owed him. I had to start somewhere, right? I almost felt a panic attack at the idea, but I shook it off. Leap of faith. I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling as I deleted the kisses Ruby had keyed in, and then hit the button to send the message. I immediately dropped the phone back into my pocket, my fingers coming up to my temple as I squeezed my eyes shut. "What did you just do?" I mumbled. I knew that for most people, this was a simple, common, ordinary exercise. People texted their friends all the time with dinner invitations. It was perfectly normal… But my own home?! the frightened, rational part of my brain screamed. What's wrong with a restaurant? My pulse picked up, and I felt anxiety climb up my throat. Leap of faith, a quieter, stronger voice reminded me, and I took a couple of deep breaths. On the tail end of that thought, I wondered irrationally what the hell was taking him so long to reply. A few moments later, a few long moments later, my phone buzzed. And although I hated myself for it, I scrambled to quickly snatch my phone into my hand to read Asher’s reply.

‘About time, Nutcracker.’ I exhaled a breath I hadn't been aware I'd been holding, and felt a confusing mixture of excitement, anticipation, and sheer, utter panic. My hand moved toward my bag where my meds were stashed, but I pulled my hand back before I caught the zipper. “No,” I muttered. And put the meds back into the bag. Leap of fucking faith. “RUBY, I CAN’T do this," I said frantically the next evening. We were closing the café, and I had exactly one and a half hours until Asher was supposed to arrive at my apartment. "I think I have to cancel." "Well, you're not going to do that, obviously," Ruby said calmly. "Just relax! I'm proud of you." "I don't know how to do this!" I panicked. "I have never had a guy over before. I mean, not since I lived in New York before I became a basket case. What if he's a psycho? What if he robs me?" "He might be a psycho, to be fair," Ruby began, "but I highly doubt he wants to rob you. Your shit isn't that great, anyway. And he's been at your apartment way later than seven-thirty at night before and he's had you alone at his gym. If he wanted to do something to you I'm quite certain he would have done it already." She reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders, giving me a little shake. "Man up! This is a date, you should be prepared to have—"I gave Ruby a murderous look and she grinned in return"—fun," she finished innocently. "Have fun." "I feeling like throwing up," I announced. "Everywhere. Like, what do I wear? Do I wear makeup? Am I supposed to shave my legs? I literally do not know what to do. I'm twenty-three. I am so pathetic." "I mean, you should always be shaving your legs," Ruby said, eyeing me suspiciously. "And, I think the makeup you have on now is fine. It's subtle. Natural. You should take your hair down, though." Her eyes moved over me critically. "As for what to wear, it's your house. Wear whatever you want to be comfortable in." She shrugged. "Wear panties." "Ruby!" I rebuked, putting my hands on my hips. "Not helpful." "Okay, okay," Ruby said laughing. "He's always been in gym clothes every time I've seen him, right? He'll probably just wear something like that to your place, so just wear like yoga pants and a cute loose top or something. Just be casual. It really doesn't matter what you wear, okay? Now, chill, son." I sighed and pressed my fingertips into my temples. "What about the food?" I asked. "Do you think what I made is okay?"

"It's perfect," Ruby said reassuringly, shooing me toward the door. "Stop freaking out." "I need, like, a tranquilizer," I said. "Or like a Quaalude." "A Quaalude?" Ruby repeated, stopping in her tracks. "Do you even know what that is?" "Obviously I'm not being serious," I replied with a frown. "But I can't relax and I really don't want to take my meds." "Really?" Ruby said, momentarily distracted. "Good for you." She waved a hand in front of me. "What you need is a good, stiff shot of whiskey and you'll be fine." "Right, I'll get drunk," I said sarcastically. "Perfect mindset to entertain." Ruby laughed, grabbing the deposit bag from my hand and shoved me out the door, locking the café behind. "Just go. Go get ready, go relax, and have a good time. And I want a full report in the morning, thanks." I waved and trudged off toward my apartment. It was only a three-block walk, and I'd have over an hour to get ready. I hurried up the stairs into my apartment and headed straight to my bedroom. I pulled out a pair of black yoga pants that had a leopard print, fold-down waist, and my favorite old NYU sweatshirt. It was dark gray with red lettering, and I'd cut the neckline out to hang off my shoulder. I pulled my bobby pins out of my hair and let my hair fall free. I went into the kitchen and pulled down plates from the cabinet and set them out neatly on the counter. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Asher would be here in fifteen minutes. A man would be here, in my apartment, alone with me, in just fifteen minutes. Anxiety spiked through me and I clutched the edge of the counter. My stomach twisted itself into knots. "Get a grip," I mumbled. I squeezed my eyes shut as panic threatened to consume me. I opened my eyes and spotted my prescription bottle a few feet away and moved down the counter toward them. I reached out to grab them, then stopped myself and pulled my hand back. I was becoming too reliant on the medication. My therapist in New York had given me a number of ways to calm myself down. Somewhere over the last year, I'd skipped the techniques and gone straight for the meds. I realized I didn't want to be dependent on them to ‘save’ me anymore. I thought back to what she’d taught me and shut my eyes again and took some deep breaths. I held my breath at the peak of my inhale for a few seconds and blew the breath slowly out between my lips. At the same time, I began to count backward from ten. I repeated the process two more times, and when I finally opened my eyes, I found that for the moment, I did feel a little bit more less crazy. Then the buzzer next to my door went off. Someone was at the main entrance to

see me. My stomach tightened again as my heart rate picked up speed and panic climbed back up into my chest. "Fuck," I murmured, then went to the small box in the wall next to the door. I pressed the button. "Who is it?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. I knew who it was. "It's Asher," came the reply, and I squeezed my eyes shut. "Okay," I called back, then realized I hadn't pressed the button. I growled in annoyance but then realized I’d already pushed my finger against it—meaning, he had heard me growl. Great. Real smooth. "Okay," I repeated uneasily, and hit the button to unlock the main entrance. I heard the electronic lock give and knew that he'd be upstairs in moments. Frantically, I tried my techniques again, but all I succeeded in doing was making myself lightheaded, as I couldn't control the speed at which I was breathing. I heard a light knock on my door and chewed my lip. "Get it together," I whispered, then reached for the knob with a shaky hand. I let it rest on the doorknob for a moment, steadying myself, then opened the door slowly, practically cowering behind it. My stomach dropped when I saw him. He looked good enough to eat. A sliver of dread opened up in my core then as my thighs felt like jelly. He looked stunning in his well-fitted jeans and a long-sleeved sky-blue shirt that made his eyes pop and glimmer. He wore shiny black boots and I could smell his spicy clean cologne from the hallway. I felt like a slob next to him. He peered at me, his lips curling. "Hi," he said. I shook myself, realizing I'd been staring like an idiot. "Hi," I replied, feeling shy and horribly inadequate. I stepped back, still mostly behind the door, to let him in. I shut the door behind him and leaned my forehead against it for a moment before triple-locking it automatically. I turned slowly to face him. He stood in the middle of my living room with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around. "You got a nice place," he said finally, before looking at the framed photographs of my family. "Are they all your family?" "Yep, all of them," I replied, wrapping my arms around myself. "You'll be meeting them soon enough," I added wryly. He glanced at me over his shoulder and half-smiled. "So which one’s in love with me?" he asked jokingly. "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into," I said, shaking my head and pulling a laugh out of him too. I realized then we were both still standing and I gestured to my cream-colored

couch. "Have a seat," I offered and stepped around it to join him. He settled into a corner and I made sure to sit a few feet away, hugging a cushion. "You look nice," I commented. "I thought you'd be in your regular gym clothes. I feel like a total slob." "Was thinking the same thing," he replied playfully. “Honestly, you don't need to change. You’re the best looking slob I’ve ever seen." Before he had a chance to notice my blush, my grey cat sauntered into the room then, pausing in his journey to his water bowl in the kitchen to look at our guest curiously. "I didn't know you had any pets," Asher said. He flicked his head at the cat. "What's his name? Her name?" "His name is Rocky," I replied, then lowered my hand to invite Rocky to come closer. Rocky immediately moved toward me to rub his face against my hand and silently beg for behind-the-ear scratches, purring loudly. "Rocky, huh?" Asher said. "As in—Balboa?" I laughed. "No. Although, he thinks he's tough when he's squaring off against the alley cats…through the window, that is." I ran my hand along Rocky's back as it arched and scratched the area where tail met rump. Rocky's purrs grew louder. "I named him Rocky because of those dark gray rings circling his tail. It reminded me of a raccoon tail." Rocky jumped agilely onto the couch, stepping over my lap as he made a beeline toward Asher. Asher didn't move but his eyes followed my cat's movements as Rocky got closer. Finally, Asher extended a hand slowly and Rocky sniffed at it delicately. Apparently approving of Asher's scent, Rocky leaned his head against his hand and rubbed. "Is that okay?" I asked. "Are you okay with cats, or you allergic or anything?" Asher shook his head, his eyes still on Rocky. "Not allergic. Just never been into cats, but he seems cool enough." Rocky crept closer, swiping his cheeks against Asher's forearm before gently butting his head into Asher's bicep. "Aw," I crooned gently. "He likes you." Asher glanced at me, then back down at my loudly purring cat. "Why’d you say that?" "He bunted you," I said, then smiled at Asher's confused expression. "Bunting is where cats knock their heads against you lightly. It's a form of affection for a human. He bunts me all the time. Usually against my chest." I shook my head slightly and laughed. "Huh," Asher said absently, looking back down at my cat. "Can't say I blame him." My head snapped up but Asher never looked at me. Finally, he lifted his hand

and scratched Rocky behind the ears as I had done. Rocky's eyes closed to slits as he leaned euphorically into Asher's scratch. My eyes flickered between my pet and Asher, and I bit back a grin when a half-smile finally crossed Asher's face. "I guess you're all right, buddy," he murmured to Rocky, moving his fingers to scratch below his chin. After a few moments of Asher's ministering, Rocky abruptly decided he'd had enough and moved back toward me. Crawling into my lap and raising himself up on his hind legs, he pressed his front paws hard into my chest as he leaned into my face. "What's that about?" Asher asked, chuckling lightly at the sight as I tried to push Rocky down, who was refusing to budge. "He's hungry, that's all," I sighed. "It's his dinnertime." Suddenly I remembered the purpose of Asher's visit and glanced over Rocky's head at him. "Are you hungry?" "Sure," Asher said, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. "Okay. I made grilled chicken salads with feta and grilled flatbread. Is that okay? I tried to make something healthy since I know you're training." Asher bobbed his head agreeably. "Sounds good. Thanks.” Dinner went down better than I had planned. The conversation flowed and we laughed mostly, like we usually did. We were now sat back on the couch, eating yogurt and fruit parfaits for dessert. Asher seemed totally at ease around me, completely in contrast to how flustered I felt internally. I felt nowhere near the anxiety I'd felt before, but the more I studied him, the more flustered I grew. I had always known he was a goodlooking guy, but I felt a jolt each time I looked at him now. His lips were tantalizingly full, especially for a man, and his face was lightly covered in a scruffy five o'clock shadow. I found myself mesmerized by it, wondering what it would feel like under my fingertips. As though he could feel the heat of my stare, his eyes suddenly slowly rose from his dessert to me. I quickly averted my eyes and focused on spooning up the cool yogurt, feeling my face heat up. I heard his spoon tinkle against the glass of the dish, and I glanced up, seeing he was finished. I rose quickly just as he did, reaching out for it. "I can take—" I began, and the words died in my throat when he stepped close to me and reached out, gently taking my dish from my hand. When his fingers lightly brushed mine, I was painfully aware of how big he was, compared to me. I felt electricity course through my tingling body, but at the same time, my stomach clenched. "I got it," he said softly, looking down at me. His heartbreakingly intense eyes came alive, just like mine did whenever I saw him. And they were taking me in.

All of me in. I felt drowsy, mesmerized by the endless blue. I swallowed hard when I realized I was practically against him— But then Rocky saved the day. He jumped onto the coffee table, staring at us both, and proceeded to casually knock my water off the table with a swipe of his paw. The bottle toppled over, spurting water out onto the carpet as Rocky licked his paw and rubbed it over his ear, unfazed. I jerked upright, Asher slowly following my action. "Rocky!" I yelled, swatting out at my naughty cat who easily dodged my hand. He leapt gracefully off the table and took off toward my bedroom. "You little brat!" Asher chuckled and picked up the bottle as I raced into the kitchen for a dish towel. I hurried back out and dropped to my knees, soaking excess moisture up off my carpet. "That was his way of saying 'Fuck you, pay attention to me,'" I explained, mopping up the water. "He can be an attention-whore sometimes." "That was actually awesome," Asher grinned. He held up a hand at the glare I shot him. "Except for the spill. That was a bad kitty." I burst out laughing. "Hearing the word 'kitty' come out of your mouth just doesn't seem right—" Suddenly I felt his hand drop onto my forearm to stop me and I froze, looking at him. He was staring at my leg, his brow furrowed. "What's that?" he asked quietly. I glanced down and horror filled me. The hem of my pant leg had flipped up when I'd kneeled down, revealing the inside of my ankle…and a dozen raw, red, deliberate slices in my skin.

Chapter Twelve Him I WATCHED HER with a calmness I didn't feel as she yanked the hem of her pant leg down. But it was too late; I'd seen the wounds. The clearly self-inflicted wounds. It hurt my heart. Jewel was so beautiful, so smart, so talented, that it made me ache a little to know whatever demons she was battling, forced her to take it out on herself. I studied her face, watching as her cheeks reddened and her eyes filled with shame and tears. "Jewel," I said in a quiet tone. "Talk to me, please. Why are you doing that to yourself?" She opened her mouth to reply, but whatever words she wanted to speak died on her tongue. She pressed a hand to her forehead as she struggled to stop the tears slipping down her face. I didn't press her. Just folded my arms over my chest, waiting patiently. "It's all right," I added gently after a moment. "Talk to me." Jewel drew in a shuddery breath and swiped a hand over her cheeks. I had a rough idea of what she was going to tell me, piecing together things she'd told me over the weeks, combined with her mannerisms. Although I was pretty sure what the punch line of her story was going to be, I sincerely hoped she wouldn't say it. That it wouldn't be confirmed for real. She seemed to be struggling for words again, so I cleared my throat and leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees. Maybe it would be easier for her if I wasn't staring at her. "You told me something bad happened to you in New York," I said, my eyes downcast. "Something bad enough to make you leave. What happened?" I lifted my eyes momentarily to her and she was still staring down at her lap. There was an extended pause, the apartment so silent and still, I could hear the cat scratching against something in her bedroom. I had all but given up on getting an answer when she finally spoke. "It… happened to me last year," she murmured, her voice shaky. "I-I was the lead in this little ballet being shown twice a week…This was when I lived in Harlem..." She shrugged. "I had to leave Brooklyn and try to do my own thing for a while. I had friends in Harlem. I liked it there...One night I was coming home on the bus from Queens and there was a man on the bus. I got off at my stop in

Harlem. I started getting nervous because I thought he was following me…he did follow me to my apartment building." My stomach clenched, my fist tightened, and I continued to glare at the floor as I gritted my teeth. "But I got on the phone with my friend and told him I was on my way over. And when I got inside, I went down a different hallway. So I stopped to check my mail, and I continued up to my apartment… I’ll never forget what happened next…” I could hear her breath coming out heavier. After a long pause, she continued. “When I got to the door, I felt something press into my back and felt hot breath on my ear and a man's voice telling me to stay quiet and let me in or he’d shoot me. I was terrified, so I let him in and as soon as I was inside with the door shut, he pistol-whipped me. I fell on the floor and I remember him flipping my coffee table over with one hand like it didn't weigh anything, just to get it out of his way. He looked around and I thought he was there to rob me…but… I watched him walk over to me and stand over me, just staring at me for a long time…and I realized in that moment… he wasn’t there to rob me." I pulled in a deep, silent breath as I listened, shutting my eyes for an instant before returning them to the carpet. I folded my lips inward as she continued, her voice beginning to tremble. I ignored the rage boiling in my veins. Jewel didn’t need me going all Hulk. She needed a friend. "He knelt down over me and got hold of my hair and banged my head on the floor. I guess I was too afraid to move, fight—anything. He pressed the gun to my head and told me he’d seen me dancing on stage, that he thought I was the most precious thing he’d ever seen and that he loved me. He then told me to take my clothes off and that I’d better be quiet or he’d shoot me…He didn’t want any man loving me, he said... So, I did. I took them off." I heard a light smacking sound and glanced up in a shot, seeing her hand pressed to her forehead again. I didn't have time to look away before her eyes opened and she looked straight into mine. I saw shame and utter humiliation in them, and the look was almost enough to make me want to tell her to stop, that she didn't need to continue. But she seemed to want to, to need to. And what she told me next made my jaw clench so tight, I thought I had cracked my teeth. She said the words without looking away from me, her voice dull and almost flat. “He dragged me across the floor toward my bedroom. He kept saying, 'Can't say no now. You won't be able to say no now.' He pushed me back onto my bed, pulled my hair and told me, ‘I'm gonna make you scream…and you're gonna fucking love it.’ He was so angry. His face was so angry. It was almost like he was more of an animal than a person. I closed my eyes, I didn’t want to look at him but he told me that unless I opened them, he’d cut me up so bad…I wouldn’t be able to recognize my own face anymore…

"I thought he was going to do it, then leave. But he didn’t. He spent the whole weekend raping me. Over and over and over. Forced me to ring my friends and family, to lie to them, to say I was going away for a weekend…When…when he wasn't raping me, he kept me tied to the bathroom door and dressed me like I was his doll. He even made us dinner like we were a married couple, forcing me to eat with him at the table." I looked away then, bringing my hands to my face. I rubbed them over my skin, my throat tightening. "Jesus Christ," I said hoarsely. "He made me lay next to him while he slept, making sure to tie me to the bed… He made me hold him." A sob involuntarily erupted from her throat and she clapped a hand to her mouth. It was a long moment before she could talk again. "When the weekend was over…he…he beat me so bad I thought, that’s it. He’s going to kill me after all of this and I’m going to die. Cracked six of my ribs. Broke my hand. Gave me a concussion. He even knocked three teeth out of my mouth which I later had to have replaced." She stared off into space, as if seeing herself in the aftermath of what had happened. “It felt like my body was blown open, my body was ringing all over. He was standing over me and he said ‘Are you bleeding, Juliet? Are you bleeding? If you don’t answer I'm gonna blow your fucking head off.’ I never moved, never answered him…And he nudged me with his foot…and then…he just kicked. Over, and over, and over again—it felt like he would never stop kicking. When he finally got done kicking, he squatted down to where my head was and he picked my ponytail up, to pick my head up off the ground…” I heard her swallow hard. “…And he got real close to my face and got his gun out, pressed it so hard in my face I swore I could feel heat coming off of it. I remember seeing his eyes just staring at me…He didn’t leave until I was knocked unconscious but not before…" I glanced at her face again, feeling sickened, and waited. I knew it would haunt me, but I waited for it. She slid her eyes back to me and stared right through me. "He raped me with his gun," she whispered. Abruptly, I rose from the sofa and placed my hands on my head. I didn't know what I was doing; I just needed to move. Bile rose in my throat and remorse and sorrow, for her, slammed into me like a freight train. It all made sense now—her fear, her dislike of being touched, or being close to people, her anxiety and panic… Her self-inflicted wounds. I turned to face Jewel. She wasn't looking at me. She was still staring off into space, but her face looked strangely calm. "Jewel," I croaked. She turned her head slowly to meet my eyes. "I'm not good

with words," I went on, clearing my throat, struggling for the right thing to say. I knew I'd never find it. "But I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry that happened to you. I wish—I want to help you. Somehow." "I—I can't have kids," she interrupted quietly, one final confession. "I'll never be able to have children. He took that from me." A single tear dropped down her cheek, but that strange calm on her face never wavered. I found I couldn't look away from her face. I had no words for her; even if I had, there was nothing adequate to tell her. Nothing to describe how terribly sorry I was. I moved slowly to the couch and sat down next to her. She continued to watch me, her eyelids heavy with sadness I would never know, watching me in a curiously detached manner. I slowly reached out and took her small, cold, trembling hand, clasping it between mine and squeezing gently. I didn't know what else to do. As if that one, simple gesture proved to be just too much, Jewel's face crumpled and she burst into tears. She dropped her head into her other hand and I sat silently at her side, staring down at my lap, squeezing her hand in both of mine as the sounds of her personal Hell—her utter torment, tore through her—ripped into me, and shattered the walls. I continued to hold her hand as her sobs died down and eventually quieted. The silence in the apartment was punctuated only by her soft sniffles. "Let me grab you a tissue," I said, recalling the ones I'd seen in her bathroom earlier. I grabbed several and brought them to her. She wouldn't meet my eyes as she took them, but I saw that her face was red, her eyes and lips puffy from the tears, and I walked to the window, giving her my back and also some privacy to clean herself up. I heard her blow her nose quietly and clear her throat. “Did they catch him?” I asked quietly, turning around. She looked at me for a long time. “Yes… It took about three months. I was unconscious from the beating and blood loss by the time he left my apartment. When I came to, I called 911 and they did a rape kit on me at the hospital. Eventually, they found a match to his DNA, and they eventually caught him. They caught…Jackson James.” A shiver ran through me then as if someone had walked over my grave. I remembered clearly when I’d heard the news about Jackson James. Hell, every one had heard of the serial killer who’d violently raped and murdered six women in New York last year. I also remembered that there was only one survivor. And I was looking at her. “It turns out he'd done this to six women in the Tri-State area,” she continued, shakily. “Other dancers and singers. I was just the only one that lived to tell the story.” I sighed, closing my eyes. "Sorry," she whispered hoarsely.

I knew anger was written on my face as fury flamed in me, but it wasn't for her. Her bloodshot, puffy-lidded brown eyes widened in fright and she cowered slightly back into the cushions. "You're sorry?" I growled. "Why the fuck should you be sorry? You didn't ask for any of that to happen to you. You didn't do anything wrong, Jewel. Not a goddamn thing. So don't you dare ever be fucking sorry." "I'm so—" she started, then bit her lip, catching herself. I shook my head and crossed the room back to the couch. I sat down hard and turned to face her. "I didn't mean to sound like I was pissed at you," I said, more quietly. "I'm just angry. Real fucking angry at what that sick son-of-a-bitch did to you. And I don't want you apologizing for anything. You understand?" Jewel lowered her eyes but bobbed her head. I laid a hand on her ankle and she twitched like she wanted to jerk away from me, but I kept my hand where it was. “I know I’m a basket case. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore…” "Jewel,” I said, doing my best to control the anger still simmering inside me, “since my best friend died saving me, I’ve never had anything in my life worth fighting for, worth saving for. And I’ve spent my whole life fighting in the ring, since—thinking I was too hard to beat, too hard to feel. And then this kid, this little kid, comes out of nowhere, and is the first to knock me out of my ring. Of my world. You, Jewel, you are what’s worth fighting for, worth saving for—so this shit stops now. I mean it." Jewel didn't respond so I tightened my grip on her ankle, ever so slightly. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to get her attention and let her know how serious I was. "I'm not fucking kidding, Jewel. Promise me." Her brow deepened so I reached out and tilted her chin up with my index finger, forcing her to look at me. I lifted my eyebrows in a silent repeat of my question, my eyes narrowing slightly to let her know I was deadly serious. She inhaled deeply and looked me in the eye. "I promise," she breathed out, and I trusted it. I nodded in acknowledgment and moved my hand to smooth her hair back away from her face. "Good," I replied, dropping my gaze back to the rug and clenching my fists together. "As long as I’m alive—I won't let you hurt yourself. Not on my watch." I bit my lip as I felt my emotions, anger and sorrow, stirring at the thought, and it made my breath come faster and my heart beat harder. “Come here,” I ordered gently, removing the cushion from between us. Her eyes, her sad beautiful fucking eyes, met mine, as I pulled her gently toward me, leaning back, so she could cuddle up to my side. It felt right. Felt natural. No awkwardness. No second-guessing. Like we’d done this a million times before. My hand dropped to her hair, brushing the strands

through my fingers. I felt the tension leak out of her as she relaxed against me. After another long moment, I realized she had fallen asleep against me, her breathing deep and even. I didn't want to move. Ever. I was never going to leave her side. I managed to wedge my hand into my back pocket and pull out my cell without disturbing her. One-handed, I quickly typed a message out to Connor. ‘Not coming back tonight. Lock up for me. Keys are in the top desk drawer. If you lose them I will end you.’ I hit the send button and then silenced my phone, tossing it on the cushion beside me, and settled back. I adjusted myself to allow Jewel to be more comfortable, and then reached behind my head, grabbing the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch. With minimal jostling, I managed to unfold it and then draped it over her. Once it was in place, I wrapped my arms around her and closed my own eyes, letting out a deep sigh. When the time was right, when I was declared champion of Ithaca, I was going to hunt down that sick son-of-bitch and kill him.

Chapter Thirteen Her “BARKEEP!” Ruby called, waving me over. "Wench!" Alexis shouted and I rolled my eyes, sliding behind the bar. Tonight was my last shift at Trinity’s. I’d been working myself into the ground with three jobs. I guess since meeting Asher, I’d realized I’d only been living for the future and not the present, that I needed to make more time for friends and my passion—dance. I couldn’t explain why I’d told Asher everything the other night. But I didn’t regret it. Ever since I’d told him, I’ve felt different somehow. For the first time, in a long time, the oppressive weight of my dirty little secret had lightened. There’s something in Asher Prince that made me trust him. And it was like I had to rid myself of that sickness. I guess I realized in that instant that I couldn’t heal if I let it rot inside me. "Yeah, yeah," I said, waving them off. "Let me guess—raspberry margarita, blended sugar on the rim for Ruby, Cosmo for Alexis because she can't let Sex and the City go, and Chardonnay for Rachael." I lifted my brows at them and received another round of grins, and I knew I'd gotten them right. "But first," Alexis said dramatically, lifting a hand, "a round of shots, including one for our fair bar wench. Patron, if you please." "Aw, man," I groaned. "No! Anything else! Whiskey? Vodka?" "No," Alexis said stubbornly. "Tequila!" I sighed heavily and poured out four shots of tequila and slid them around. The girls all fixed up their hands with salt and lifted their shots into the air. "To Jewel," Alexis said, smiling at me. "For making leaps and bounds and living this much closer to her dream." "Hear, hear!" Rachael exclaimed. "Word," Ruby added with a nod. I smiled and waved dismissively. "Down the hatch." Taking the shot, I shook my head quickly to focus, and set about to making all of their drinks. Ruby smirked at me. "So, when’s your man getting here, Jewel? He’d better be bringing his friends. Been waiting long to get my hands on some big, beefy fighter action."

"Well, if you’re waiting on 'my man'," I shot back, making quotations with my fingers, "you’re going to be waiting a long time since I don't have one." I set their drinks before them. "Here you go with that shit again," Ruby said, rolling her eyes. "Oh, you mean Asher?" Alexis teased, nudging Ruby with her elbow. "Yeah. The whole family is very anxious to meet him tomorrow." I still didn’t understand why Asher hadn’t run for the hills. Why the hell would he want to burden himself with a crazy, damaged shell of a girl, when he could find someone who really had her shit together? "Yeah, tonight doesn't count," Rachael chimed in. "I'll be nice when he gets here but the gloves come off tomorrow." "Oh, come on, Rachael," I whined. "You guys seem to forget I'm not thirteen anymore!" "You will always be the baby," Alexis said evenly. "And as your big sisters, we are obligated to torture and torment every guy that's unfortunate enough to fall for you." "Oh, he's fallen, all right," Ruby said firmly. "What?" Rachael spat. "What's that mean? Are they sleeping together?" She glared at me. "Are you sleeping together?" "What?" Alexis chimed in. She glared at me too. "When did that happen?" "No!" I insisted, patting the air. "You guys, chill! We're not sleeping together, for God's sake. We've never even kissed." "Why not?" Ruby exclaimed. "Have you seen those lips? It breaks my fucking heart you saw him first. His lips are off the chain. I'd take some of that." "Ruby!" I yelled, laughing at my friend's outrageousness. "I have to agree with that," Alexis added. "He does have amazing lips." "Oh, I'm sure Vinnie would be so pleased to hear that," I said sarcastically, “Oh, I think he would be. You know how much he’s obsessed with MMA. And The Tornado is his favorite. You don’t think he’ll leave me for Asher, do you?” she laughed. "He doesn't like the Red Sox, does he?" Rachael added suspiciously. "You know Daddy will not like that." "I don't know," I asked, mystified. "What does that matter?" "’What does that matter?’" Alexis repeated, amazed. "Are you kidding me?" "Did you not grow up in the Mucciarone household?" Rachael added. I waved my hand impatiently. "I know Dad loves the Yankees," I said, "but I just don't think he would let that sway his opinion of some guy—" "Do you remember David Morelli?" Alexis interrupted. I vaguely recalled my oldest sister's high school boyfriend. "I guess," I replied

with a shrug. "What the hell does that—" "We broke up right before prom," Alexis said, "because Daddy found out he was a Sox fan. Okay? He's very serious about it." "Well, I'll be sure to coach him on the acceptable sports teams in the family," I retorted. "Do that," Alexis said evenly, sipping her Cosmo with gusto. "Meanwhile, I believe it's time for another round of shots!" Ruby yelled, looking at me pointedly. I groaned as my sisters took up the chorus and reluctantly retrieved the bottle of tequila from the shelf. "Make it five," Rachael called. "You're taking two! One right after the other." "What are you guys doing to me?" I asked, pouring out a fifth shot. I kept two and slid the remaining three toward my sisters and Ruby. I sighed and downed the two shots quickly, eschewing salt and limes as I gulped down the fiery liquor. I swallowed hard and tried to keep a straight face. "Hey, Mac!" I heard a voice call and glanced over. I felt a slow smile spread over my face as I saw Connor leaning over the bar, grinning at me. Behind him, I saw Leon, Bailey, and Asher. Asher’s full lips slowly pulled into a half-smile when we locked eyes. "What is this?" Connor asked. "Drinking on the job?" "Blame these heathens," I said, gesturing toward my sisters and Ruby. "And my boss. He has insisted on sending me out of his club with a bang!" "I don't believe we've met," Connor said smoothly, turning to the other girls. "Connor. Asher's second-in-command." I heard Ruby giggle. "Nice to meet you," Rachael replied. "I'm the older sister." "I'm the oldest sister," Alexis added, giving Connor's hand a delicate shake. "And I'm the best friend," Ruby said, taking Connor's proffered hand next. "Mm," Connor said, smiling at Ruby indulgently. "Such beautiful ladies. Birds of a feather." He didn’t take his eyes off my best friend. “How you doin’?” he said in a deep, husky voice. “Really?” Ruby said, hand on hip. “You think that cheesy line is gonna work on a classy girl like me?” This was an accident waiting to happen, I thought, and almost shut my eyes. It was so painful to watch. “Don’t you worry, baby. I’ve got plenty of moves I’m sure will work on you—” “Leave the girl alone,” said a deep, sonorous voice. "The man of the hour," Ruby said, looking at me with a smirk. Hearing his cue, Asher made his way past his brother and Leon to step beside my sisters and Ruby. “If he’s bothering you,” Asher said to Ruby, grabbing Connor by the shoulder and making him wince, “I’ll be more than happy to throw him

out.” “What a sweetheart you are,” Ruby replied to Asher, sending a sly grin my way. “But I can fight my own battles, hun. I’m pretty sure I could eat him alive.” “Oh, please, baby. Please do,” Connor begged jovially. Ruby rolled her eyes, but I could see she was attracted to Connor’s build and pretty-boy features. “I take it you’re the famous Asher everyone’s talking about,” Rachael said. Asher extended his hand to offer my sister his hand. "Hi, I'm Asher." "Yeah, yeah, I'm aware of that," Rachael replied, her eyes moving over him appraisingly. "Nice to meet you, finally." "You must be Rachael," Asher said politely. "That's me," Rachael said, sipping demurely at her wine. "I would grill you now, but it can wait until tomorrow. I don't want to scare you off before you come over." "Uh…thank you," Asher said, bobbing his head in appreciation while shooting me a quick wink. "Okay, okay, Rachael," Alexis said, pressing my sister's arm. She smiled charmingly at Asher. "It's good to see you again," she said graciously. "Thanks, you too," he replied. "So are you also going to wait to read me the riot act?" "Of course," Alexis said. "I prefer to let my victims squirm." She smiled innocently and Asher laughed. "Hey, I get it," he said, lifting his hands in the air. "I like overprotective siblings." "Speaking of siblings," Bailey spoke up. "You gonna introduce us, brother?" "Oh, sorry," Asher said hurriedly, reaching behind him for his brother's shoulder. "What's with you forgetting about me all the time?" Bailey asked, then smiled at my sisters, reaching out to shake their hands, and then Ruby's. "It seems to happen around beautiful women, apparently." His compliments went over well, and conversation quickly fell underway. I drifted in and out of their conversation as the crowd at the bar picked up. Between my sisters and Ruby, and the clientele that found out it was my last night, I was plied with various shots and drinks. I was definitely starting to feel the shots. While pouring a glass of red wine for a patron, my eyes strayed to Asher, who was leaning on the bar, listening to Bailey’s humorous story. He looked incredibly good, dressed in a charcoal-gray button-up, the sleeves pushed to his thick, powerful forearms, and dark jeans. I suddenly felt wetness on my hand. I’d overfilled the wine glass and it sluiced down the sides.

"Shit!" I hissed, stopping myself. I grabbed a fresh glass and poured it out properly, serving it with an apologetic smile. I glanced over again and saw that while Asher's face was still tilted toward the bar, his eyes had lifted to me and he'd caught my little accident. He flashed me a quick, full smile, letting me know he'd seen the whole thing, and then looked away. The rest of the evening passed in a blur as I worked the bar and downed more shots from the patrons. An hour before closing, my boss came out to replace me behind the bar and told me to go have fun. The DJ started playing all my favorite music, and I took to the dance floor with my sisters and Ruby. I felt completely exuberant as I danced, tilting back my head to laugh, spinning as the room spun. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had so much fun. As I finished a turn, my eyes fell on Asher once again. I licked my lips as my body pulsed. I knew of only one way to end such a great evening properly.

Him I LEANED AGAINST the bar and sipped at my club soda with lime, my eyes glued to Jewel as she danced with her sisters and her friends. I knew the guys were talking around me, but I couldn't focus on anything they were saying. I couldn't focus on anything but the way Jewel looked when she danced. I'd seen her dance before, at the studio, but that had been for her showcase piece. The dancing she was doing now was purely for fun and it was so much sexier. Every move her body made was rhythmic, graceful, and smooth. It was fucking hot. The girls all started moving back toward us then. I narrowed my eyes. I could tell by the way Jewel swayed slightly in her tall heels that she was pretty drunk. "We're taking off," Alexis was telling her sister. "We've got kids and everything." "Aw, you're so lame," Jewel said, pouting. She smiled then and embraced her sisters. "How are you getting home?" Rachael asked. "Ruby, or something," Jewel replied vaguely. I glanced at Ruby, who was currently being nuzzled by Connor. By the looks of things, she wasn't going to be too keen on playing chauffeur again. Jewel hugged her sisters again, then Alexis turned toward me. She smiled. "Good seeing you again," she said. "See you at dinner tomorrow." "Yeah, sleep tight," Rachael chimed in. "You'll need it." They both smiled and slipped out into the night. I felt Bailey's hand clamp down on my shoulder. "Those are some scary chicks," he said. "Good luck tomorrow. I'm heading out." "Can I get a minute?" I grumbled. "You know, since I drove and everything." Bailey laughed. "I meant, I'm taking a cab, Grumpy." I stared at him. "The hell would you do that?" Bailey glanced at Jewel, who was hugging some of the waitresses, and then jerked his head toward her. "Take the lady home, man," Bailey said, then clapped me on the shoulder before leaving the lounge. I stood uncertainly, then caught Ruby's eye and flicked my head toward her. She came over to me. "Hey, I’m gonna take Jewel home," I said. Ruby eyed me suspiciously. "She's pretty drunk. I should make sure she gets home okay."

"I got it," I said. "It's no problem." "Baby, let the man take her home, so I can take you home and show you those moves I mentioned before," Connor said, appearing behind her, clasping her shoulders and leaning into her neck. I smirked. Connor had met his match. I had a feeling Ruby really would eat him alive. Ruby glanced at Connor through heavily lidded eyes, then turned back to me. "If you're sure…" she said, still somewhat uncertain. I nodded. Ruby shrugged and moved toward Jewel to speak into her ear. Jewel's eyes cut toward me as she listened to Ruby, then she nodded and reached out to hug her friend, her eyes still on me. Unless I was mistaken, her dark eyes went even darker as she looked at me. After Ruby and Connor left, Jewel walked up to me. She tilted her head back and shook her head slightly, her hair cascading down her back. I was mesmerized by it, and her lips curled into a smile as she followed my eyes. "So, Officer Safety—you're my chauffeur," she said, wobbling just a little in her shoes. "Hope your brother doesn't mind his car going all the way out to Little Italy again." I smirked at her and popped a toothpick in my mouth. "It's not his car going to Little Italy. It's mine. And he took a cab home." She watched me chew the toothpick, her eyes widening slightly. "You have a car?" she repeated. "Since when?" "Since ever," I replied. "Well...why do you always take the bus and the train then?" "Saves gas and money," I replied. "Plus parking anywhere in this city is a bitch." I nodded toward the door as I saw her eyes lose their focus a little. "Get your stuff and I'll take you home. You, uh...you hit it a little hard tonight." She smiled then giggled. "I did, didn't I?" she admitted. "I'll be right back." I watched her teeter off toward the back, stumbling in her heels. I knew what had happened the last time I'd left her to go get the car, and I didn't want to risk putting her through that again. I waited patiently by the door, chewing on my toothpick, until she reappeared from the back, tugging a long black sweater around herself, a bag slung over her shoulder. She crossed the room toward me. "We gotta go," she said thickly. "I can't take any more goodbyes." I chuckled and gave her my arm for balance as we headed out into the night. "I didn't know this was all so emotional for you." "Me either," she said. "I'm not sure why it's so hard now." "Maybe all that tequila had something to do with it," I joked, cringing away when I felt her elbow in my ribs sharply. I led her across the street where my black Dodge Charger was parked.

"How predictable," she teased. I smirked and opened her door, making a mock bow as she moved past me to drop into the seat. "Thanks, Officer Safety." As I drove, I felt her eyes on me. I glanced over briefly and caught her smoky brown eyes locked on me and traveling slowly down my body. I swallowed. "What's up?" I asked. "Nothing," she replied, her voice suddenly low and velvety. The tone made my ears prick…and my cock. My body heat rose and my muscles bulged, so I kept my eyes front the rest of the trip. But she still watched me the entire way. I pulled up to her building and got out to go around and open her door. I was halfway around the hood of my car when her door opened and she got out, dragging her bag behind her. "Walk me to my door?" she asked in that same low tone. I was confused. Of course I would walk her to her door. Didn't I always? "Of course," I replied. Her hand slipped around my elbow again and we took to the stairs toward her floor. I cleared my throat to speak and then suddenly grabbed her arm when she slipped a little. "You okay?" I asked, and she laughed. "Yes, Officer Safety," she replied. "Just a little tipsy I guess." She was slurring slightly, and I tightened my hold on her to make sure she cleared the rest of the stairs. We moved down the hallway toward her door, and when we reached it, she turned around and leaned her back on it, curling her sweet lips at me. I cleared my throat again and hesitantly returned her smile, nearly jumping when I felt her hands slide up my chest suddenly. Instantly, I felt blood rush to my cock. "What—what’re you doing?" I asked, one of my hands closing around hers and stopping its movement. "Nothing," she whispered back, her other hand sliding higher to wrap around my neck. I felt her tug and found myself leaning toward her as she brought her face to me, her full pink lips parting slightly. It felt like I was going to die if I didn’t kiss her. I had eyes for no one, nothing, but this jaw-dropping gorgeous woman before me. My body was on fire at the want in her eyes. Parts of me were bulging, throbbing, pumping, but other parts were ripping and tearing—the parts that knew this would be wrong. I almost did it. But at the very last second, with every ounce of willpower I had, I turned my head, and her moist lips landed on my cheek. I realized I was gripping the doorframe, and at her little growl of frustration and want, I tightened my hold. "Asher," she whined in a whisper, her hand coming to rest on my cheek and

trying to turn my face toward hers. I felt the whisper of her breath against my lips as she tried again. And again, it took all of my strength to pull gently away and not slam her hard against the door and taste her. This time I reached up and took her wrist in my other hand. "Jewel," I panted. "Come on. You're wasted." "Maybe so," she replied. "But I'm not too drunk to know that I want you." She pulled her wrist from my grasp, my hand too willing and eager to let it go, and this time she wrapped her arm around my neck and pulled her face closer. Her lips brushed mine before I took a step back, breaking her hold. "Don't," I rasped. "Not like this." "Don't you want to kiss me?" she asked, leaning her head back against the door. "Not if it means taking advantage of the fact that you're drunk," I replied gruffly. "Let's go inside." Wordlessly she turned her back and dug through her purse until she came up with her keys. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and wondered if I was crazy. A gorgeous, sexy girl—one I was completely infatuated with—had thrown herself at me, told me she wanted me, and I was saying no? She finally got the door unlocked and almost fell through it when it opened. I grabbed the back of her sweater to keep her from falling and then hauled her in to grasp her waist. "All right, time for bed,” I murmured. "Hey, Rocky," I said, spotting the cat curled up on the blanket. "Just putting your drunk mom to bed," I added, before steering Jewel into her bedroom. "You talking to my cat?" she mumbled over her shoulder. "I am," I affirmed, then leaned her against the wall of her room. I turned toward her bed to remove the pile of pillows and dropped them on the floor, then pulled her comforter back. I turned back around to face her and my jaw dropped. Jewel had taken off her sweater and kicked off her heels, and was in the process of unzipping her leather tube top. She slowly pulled it from her body, her eyes not leaving me, and dropped it on the floor. She wore a strapless lacy black bra underneath. Her hands moved to the waistband of her shorts and she unbuttoned then unzipped them. I was frozen, unable to resist the carnal part of myself and do anything more than watch. I almost reconsidered then, almost grabbed her then, wanting nothing more than to slam her against the door. But then the image of her cut ankle, and the image of her tears, passed through my mind, and I shook my head. When she started to slowly inch her shorts over her hips, and I caught the sight of a matching black lace thong, I finally snapped out of it. "Jewel!" I rasped, averting my eyes. "Stop." My heart pounded, and my breath

was heavy with uncontrolled desire. "Asher, I'm trying to let you know you can have this," she said, velvet soft, letting her shorts drop off her legs. She stepped out of them and then began to saunter toward me. As soon as her hands landed on me, my body stirred to life immediately. I shifted uncomfortably as my cock started to get harder. "I know you want it," she whispered throatily, and pressed against me. She took one of my hands and wrapped it around her back, letting it settle on her hip. My fingers grazed the lace of her underwear and the smooth, soft skin of the top of her ass. My cock surged at the touch, and I stepped back from her, still keeping my gaze off her. My damn cock had never been this fucking hard for a woman before; it was starting to hurt. If I looked at her, I was dead. The raw, primal beast inside me would fucking take her. And it would take her hard and fast. No matter the consequences. She's drunk, I told myself firmly. She’s fucking worth more than this. "Jewel, go to bed," I said, my voice a pained rasp. "Come on. You're blitzed. You don't even know what you're saying right now." Her hands slipped down to my shirt and started to slowly pop open the buttons. With each button undone, my resolve began to weaken, little by little, as I felt my tip dampen. "Sure I do," she whispered into my neck, and I actually shivered. Fucking shivered! I bit back the curse that came to my lips and sighed. Hard. “You want me to take you to bed?” I rasped. “I’ll take you to bed.” I closed my hands around her waist, lifted her body, and slammed her onto the bed. Her hazy, slightly bloodshot eyes widened a little and she started to smile. The smile quickly disappeared when I gathered my willpower and yanked the covers over her, still not allowing myself to take a real good look at her body. I tucked the blankets in tightly around her, doing my damn best to not change my goddamn mind. I felt like I’d just gone ten rounds in the ring, through all that shit. "Are you serious?" she spat, staring up at me. "Are you fucking kidding me?" "Jewel, I'm not going to do this with you, while you're drunk," I said, through heavy pants, looking down at her. I had to bite back a smile at the look of drunken fury on her face as the covers violently shifted when she shot up. "What? Am I not good enough or something?" she demanded. "’Cos I'm not one of those plastic bitches from your fan club?" "You're actually perfect," I replied, more calmly. "I just have way too much respect for you to do this when you're wasted. Trust me, Jewel, you’ve taken me to the fucking edge tonight and I’m seriously considering slamming you hard in that bed and taking you like you are all but begging me to do—but you don’t need

someone to fuck. You need a friend. And I’m gonna be that friend, even if it fucking kills me. Even if I have to cut my own damn dick off.” "Yeah?" she barreled on, obviously not really hearing me. "Well, fuck you!" I shook my head, holding back a grin. "There’ll be no fucking me tonight. Trust me, I’m just as pissed at that as you are. But mark my words—I’m coming for you, Jewel. When the time is right, I’m coming. See you tomorrow evening." I turned for the door. "You're not invited anymore!" she all but snarled after me, and her alarm clock came sailing over my shoulder, just clearing it. Rocky heard the noise and shot past my legs and onto her bed. I glanced back at her, taking in the covers clutched to her chest and her wild hair. My hand closed over the doorknob and I gave her a wistful half-smile. "Yeah, I am," I said, my lip curling up. Her chest heaved with rage. "Sweet dreams, Nutcracker." I could still hear her cussing at me as I shut the door behind me and left her apartment. Once I was outside, I blew a hard breath between my lips as I climbed behind the wheel of my car. I'd tried not to look, but I couldn't get the image of her in that black lace bra and thong, with her smudged eye makeup, and wild bed hair, out of my brain. And my royally pissed-off cock wasn't letting me forget it, either. It was still hard as a fucking steel pipe. I had been in a warzone. I had been beaten to near death in the ring. But nothing —nothing!—compared to restraining myself from slamming the most beautiful and the most goddamn sexiest girl in the fucking world. "I deserve a medal for that shit," I muttered, then started the car and headed for home, so I could relieve myself in the goddamn shower.

Chapter Fourteen Her TONIGHT WAS THE NIGHT. Asher was going to meet the family. My heart rate increased and I felt anxiety clawing at my throat. I sighed as I sat in Asher’s car, just outside my apartment block. My parents lived on the either side of the courtyard from where I lived. We hadn’t brought up last night yet. I vaguely recalled trying to kiss him outside my apartment¸ and then remembered stripping in front of him, begging him to sleep with me. The memory of it flashed through my mind again, and my stomach tensed. I glanced at him, noting how good he looked in jeans, motorcycle boots, and a lightweight knit pullover in a pewter-blue that almost perfectly matched his eyes. "Ready?" I asked. He nodded. "How’s the hangover?" My face burned with shame and self-loathing. What must he think of me? Whether he thought me a crazy woman, he still wanted to meet my whole family. I owed him a big apology. "About last night…Um...I’m utterly ashamed of myself and embarrassed," I replied bitingly as I looked out the window toward the apartment block. I heard him chuckle. "It's actually not funny," I said, turning back to him. He shook his head, smiling slightly still. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you." "Yes. You are. And I don’t blame you," I began, feeling a little tension leak out since he seemed to find the whole thing funny. "I was—I was way out of line last night." "Yeah, peer pressuring me to sleep with you before we’d even gone on a date was pretty low," he said, grinning. "Shit happens." "Shit happens," I agreed, "but that was beyond shit. That was shit on a whole other level. That was not…I don't act…I'm not like—" "Forget it," he interrupted, and met my gaze with a half-smile. "Seriously. Not even for throwing your alarm clock at me because I wouldn’t sleep with you and disinviting me to dinner." My face burned again as the memory of throwing my clock at him bombarded my mind. I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. "Yeah. Sorry about all of that."

He laughed again. "I'm just giving you shit. Seriously. It was hard to keep my hands off you." I swallowed, looking up at him. I was incredibly grateful Asher had decided not to capitalize on my extreme drunkenness from the night before. I felt a surge of admiration, appreciation, and even affection for him. It was hard to contemplate that someone like me could turn on a man like Asher. But it also felt amazing to know I did. "You probably think I'm a freak, what with me going Emo on you and then… last night…” "Don't do that," Asher said quietly, suddenly getting serious. He shook his head. "Don't ever apologize for sharing your past. And I don't think you're a damn freak. I think you're something special.” There was a beat. “Someone who went through a horrible experience and you're trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces." He sighed heavily. "I can relate." I looked at him in surprise, wondering if he'd elaborate. "You can?" “I can. My pops used to smack my brother, Mom, and me around when I was little. He was an alcoholic. Pretty fucked-up one. It’s why I don’t drink. At all." I knew this must have been a painful topic for him. But he was sharing. And he was doing so to find some common ground with me. "Between my upbringing, and then losing my best friend in Afghanistan—trust me, I know what it is to be damaged," he went on in the same quiet tone. My mind flashed back to all the media hype about Asher’s alleged affair with the wife of a fallen Marine. The best friend he mentioned to me once; the one who had died saving him. But I was beginning to see Asher, really see him, and I couldn’t believe that was true. Not for a single second. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. I knew it was a lie. “I think that had a lot to do with why I joined the Marines—was looking for that brotherhood I never had at home.” I nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sorry," I said finally. "About the things you've gone through. And losing your friend." Asher nodded in acknowledgment, looking out his side of the window. "Thanks," he replied, turning his head back to mine. "It’s nothing like what you’re struggling with, but I have my own. I can understand where you're coming from. And I can definitely attest to the fact that there is life after that." "You might be right," I said quietly. I would never have imagined that someone like Asher could be as introspective as he was being right now. I think that’s why I decided to share a little more with him then. “Jackson James…” I said, my words choking in my throat. I couldn’t say his name without bile threatening to rise in my throat. “I-I thought my role in this was

all over.” I pulled an envelope from my bag slowly, and handed it to him. "Then I got this in the mail last Tuesday...That was why I was so upset that night, the night you came to return my medication." Asher took the certified letter's envelope and reached inside, pulling out a sheet of folded paper. He skimmed it quickly and read my subpoena to appear in court next month at one of Jackson James' trial. He glanced up at me. "They can't arrest you or anything if you don't testify," he said, folding the paper and slipping it back into the envelope. "They can't force you." He handed it back. "I know," I murmured, taking the envelope and stuffing it back into my bag. "My lawyer told me the same thing, since I was the victim of the assault. But he also said that because I'm the only survivor, my testimony could potentially put him away for longer than he might get without testimony. The prosecution is going for the death penalty." Asher looked at me carefully. "And what do you think about that?" he asked. I sighed. "I don't want to do this," I admitted quietly. "I don't want to sit in a courtroom with him, in the same room as him, where he can look at me and think about me and remember what he did to me." I bit my lip. "But then I think about those women, the ones who didn't get up and walk away and I feel like I have to do it for them and their families." I paused again, staring at a spot on the dashboard. "I would have wanted the same thing done for me." Asher nodded slowly. "I think you're brave enough to handle it," he said. I scoffed. "You joking?" I asked, my eyebrows knitted together. "Where have you been the last two months?" Asher shrugged. "I saw you get attacked in my gym, and then come back shortly after that anyway," he said. "I've seen you battle through your anxiety issues, face down a crowd of drunken assholes and walk through them even though you were scared. I've seen you take your own well being into your own hands, with coming to the gym, taking up boxing. You live by yourself, you take care of yourself, and you're still working toward your dreams." Asher lifted his eyebrows at me. "That takes balls, in my opinion. You might be struggling emotionally, but you've picked yourself back up. Try to think of this trial as one last 'fuck you, you didn't break me'." "But maybe he did," I replied quietly. Asher shook his head. "No way," he said firmly. "I see you," he added. "I know balls when I see them." The statement was so funny, sounded so wrong to both our ears, that we burst out laughing. As I quieted down, I weighed his words and flushed under his praise. "We'll see," I said. "I've still got a little while to decide." Asher nodded. I

folded my lips inward, studying him. I wanted to say more, but decided that it was best to leave well enough alone for now. "Okay. Let’s do this." We got out of the car and moved across the courtyard in the middle of the apartment complex and up the stairs toward my parents' unit. "I hope you're hungry," I said, my voice a warning. "My mother will take it as a personal insult if you don't eat a lot." "No worries there," he said easily. "Far be it from me to insult the chef." I couldn't take it anymore. "Why are you so calm?" "Why are you so wound up?" he immediately returned, lifting his scarred eyebrow at me. "Because I know them," I said. "I know what they're capable of, I've seen what they can do to a man—" Asher laughed again and shook his head. "Sorry. Not laughing at you. Just you talk about your family like they're violent insurgents or criminals or something." I briefly considered his words and decided he might not be totally off base with that comment. "I have seen what each of my sisters have gone through. I've participated in what they've gone through—now it's my turn. They're ready for payback." "Just relax, Jewel," he said, nudging me gently with his elbow. "Let's just have a good time. I'm looking forward to this." I looked up at him doubtfully, but let the matter rest. I knocked on the door, and I could already hear the loud voices of my uncle and father dominating whatever conversation was being had. Finally the door opened and my mother stood in the doorway. "Juliet!" She kissed my cheek. "Honey. You're late!" "Five minutes, Ma," I said. "Yes, yes," my mother said, pushing me inside by the shoulder. She beamed at Asher and held out her hands. "And you must be Asher." He offered his hand but she ignored it and gently took his face into her hands instead, touching her cheeks to each of his. I hid a smile at the look of mild surprise on his face. "Come in, come in." She led us into the living room where my father and my uncle were sitting on the sofas with my brothers-in-law, discussing some sporting event. My father glanced up as Asher entered the room behind me. I cleared my throat nervously. "Daddy," I said, moving to my father's side and bending down to kiss his cheek. "How ya doin', cupcake?" he asked mildly, but his steady gaze was on Asher. I didn't miss it and cleared my throat again. "Daddy, this is Asher. Asher, this is my father." My father glanced up impassively at Asher as he moved toward him. Asher

extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir," Asher said. "Thank you for having me in your home." Dad’s face stayed impassive, but I saw a gleam of appreciation and respect in my father's eyes and felt immense relief. My father rose to his feet and reached out and clasped Asher's hand, giving it a firm shake, and I noticed a light smile form on my father's face. It was a good sign; it meant that Asher's handshake had been equally as firm. "Anytime, Asher," my father said. "I'd like you to meet my brother, Gino." Asher shifted his gaze to Uncle Gino, who gave him a mere nod and took his proffered hand. "Nice to meet you, too, sir." "And these two bums," my father went on, "are my sons-in-law." "Ryan," Rachael's husband said, rising to his feet and offering Asher a handshake and a wide smile. "Vinnie," Alexis's husband said, doing the same. "Huge fan, man. Wow— you’re much bigger in person." I rolled my eyes. "Oh, thanks," Asher said with a humble nod, but I knew he was uncomfortable with any recognition of his MMA star status. "Fan o' what?" Uncle Gino demanded grumpily. "Gino, you don't know this kid?" my father said, surprising me. He reached out and clapped Asher's shoulder. "He was in all the papers last year. Big MMA guy. Won Sparta. Used to be a Marine." "Jeez, Dad," I said. "Didn't know you knew his whole bio." "What, I get it wrong?" my father demanded. He glanced at Asher. "Am I wrong, kid?" "No, sir," Asher said calmly. "See?" my father continued, reaching out to pinch my cheeks. "Your old man knows what he's talkin' about." "He's a hometown celebrity," Vinnie added. "Nah, forget that. He's a national celebrity!" I rolled my eyes. I knew Vinnie would inevitably ask for Asher's autograph at some point tonight. Asher stood amicably, but I knew him well enough by now to know how uncomfortable he was with it. "Okay, okay," I said. "Give him a break, he just walked in." "What's that you got there?" my father asked Asher, pointing to the bag in his hand. Asher glanced down as though he'd forgotten he'd been holding it. "Wine, sir. I thought you and your family might enjoy it." "Let me see this," Dad said musingly, pulling the bottle out of the bag. He examined the label and nodded. "This is your mother's favorite, Jewel,” he said, grinning. “Look, Gino." He held the bottle up so Uncle Gino could read the label

and he nodded his approval. "Very good," Uncle Gino commented. "Thanks, Asher," my father said, then handed the bottle to me. "Take that in the kitchen. Go help your mother and your sisters." He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me on both of my cheeks. "Go on. Let us men talk. Hey, you want a beer, Asher?" "No, sir, but thank you," he said. "I don’t drink. But water would be great. Thank you." "Jewel, go get the man his drink, will ya?" my father said, waving me off. Dad was smiling, and I knew that he was appreciating all the respect that Asher was showing him. I hustled into the kitchen, seeing my mother stirring a big steel pot on the stove. Alexis and Rachael were standing by the sink, talking and laughing. "Hey, there she is," Rachael said with a grin. "The disco queen." "Ugh, I hate you two," I mumbled. "Don't ever feed me tequila again." "Bad night?" Alexis asked, raising her brow. "Something like that. Look, Ma," I said, changing the subject. "Wine. Your favorite. Asher brought it for you. Daddy's holding him hostage in the living room or else he would have given it to you himself." "Oh, let me see that," my mother said, turning around. She took the bottle and peered over the top of her glasses. "Oh, it is my favorite! What a sweet, thoughtful boy. And very handsome too." "Yes he is, and don’t forget those lips,” Alexis grinned. “You’re as bad as Vinnie,” I scoffed. “He’s practically drooling out there.” “Oh God. How bad is it?” she asked with a grimace. “Bad. He’s already pointed out how big Asher is,” I said, shaking my head. “Then we really should go say hi," Alexis said, smiling innocently. “Save him from my hubby.” I held up a hand. "You leave him alone. Between your groupie husband and Uncle Gino, he's got his hands full." I pulled out a bottle of water and poured it into a glass. “Okay girls, dinner is ready,” my mother notified. Alexis and Rachael were smiling at me, and Rachael started to rub her hands together. "Be nice," I whispered. I’d meant for it to come out as a demand, but it sounded like a plea. My sisters exchanged a look and then Alexis drew her finger across her throat. I sighed, closing my eyes, and making a silent prayer. Everyone immediately sat at the table in the dining room, waiting for my

mother to bring out the dinner. "Some help, Ma?" I called out. "No, no," my mother's voice answered from the kitchen. "I got it!" "So, Asher," Alexis began and I sighed heavily, fixing my sister with an annoyed look. "The wine. Nice touch." Asher nodded beside me. "Hope you like it." "We prefer white, actually," Rachael said rudely. "Where's the Pinot Grigio?" "It's wherever you left it," I interjected. "Oh, wait. You didn't bring any. Because you're a selfish bitch." I made a silly face to temper my words. "Hey, language at the table, kids," my father warned. "The wine was a nice gesture, thanks, Asher. You girls want anything else, you buy it and stop complaining about gifts." "So, you really tied one on last night, baby sis," Rachael said sweetly, ignoring my pointed and fervent glances. "What's that mean?" my father grumbled. He looked at me. "You were drinkin' last night?" "She got crazy drunk," Alexis said bluntly. "Only because you guys made me!" I insisted hotly. "Ordering all those shots, making me drink them." "I don't recall pouring anything down your throat," Rachael pointed out. "How did you get home?" my father asked, ignoring us. "You didn't ride the bus drunk, did you?" "Who was drunk?" My mother appeared and placed a heaping plate of pasta and meat sauce in front of Dad and then one in front of Uncle Gino. "Your daughter," Rachael informed her. "Juliet!" my mother yelled, smacking me on the shoulder before turning for the kitchen again. "No, I didn't ride the bus, Pop," I said, offering Asher some bread as a distraction. "Well, did Ruby take you home?" Dad asked, his voice hard. "Uh, no…" I mumbled. My father was like a bloodhound. He would always catch the scent when something didn't sit well with him. I popped a large mushroom in my mouth and glanced at Asher who was sitting quietly. "Uh, Asher took me home," I said around the mushroom, covering my mouth and hoping my father wouldn't make out my garbled words. "He took you home?" my father repeated, glancing at Asher. "Home to your apartment? Late at night. When you were drunk?" "Just to make sure she got home safely, sir," Asher spoke up reassuringly. "I wouldn't let something bad happen to her." My father nodded at his words but continued to glare at me.

"It's your daughters' faults, anyway," I added. "They kept buying me shots and making me drink them." "They tied you down?" my father asked rhetorically. "They pumped tequila down your throat?" "No, Pop," I sighed, glaring murderously at my sisters. You bitches. Alexis winked at me and Rachael blew me a kiss. Asher let out a low chuckle but covered it up with a cough when I turned my glare on him. That, in turn, made Ryan and Vinnie start laughing. I glanced around the table with narrowed eyes. I wished I could pelt them with marinated artichokes and mushrooms. Thankfully, my mother arrived again with more food. When everyone was served, everyone lost themselves in the flavorful dishes. "This is delicious, ma'am," Asher said to my mother. "Really. One of the best meals I ever had." I beamed at him from over my glass of water as Ma smiled modestly and waved a hand dismissively in the air. "Oh, thank you," she said. Then she pointed at him. "You make sure you eat," she warned. "I know you're an athlete of some kind so you need a good meal in you." "Yes, ma'am," Asher said obediently. "So, Asher, you follow baseball?" my father asked, sipping at his wine. "Yes, sir," Asher replied. "Yeah? Who do you like for the playoffs?" "Well, being born and mostly raised in Pittsburgh makes me a Pirates fan automatically," he answered, and smiled when Dad made a noise of distaste and waved him off. "But for the playoffs…I'd have to say Yankees all the way." I’d been holding my breath, realizing I'd neglected to coach Asher on the proper baseball teams. Luckily, he'd picked the right one. "Damn right, Yankees all the way," my father said, nodding his head firmly. "What do you think about the Red Sox?" It was a test. I kicked and stomped Asher's foot under the table, harder than necessary, and he glanced over at me. I kept my eyes on my plate but shook my head quickly, clearing my throat. Asher picked it up immediately. "Nah, not a Sox fan, sir," he said. "Me either, and that's ‘cos they suck," my father said bluntly. "Bunch of degenerates, they are." "Degenerates, Daddy?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "Really?" "Hey, Asher," Vinnie said. "Saw you on ESPN about the Ithaca tournament. You ready for that?"

Asher bobbed his head. "I think so," he replied. "Been working hard, training a lot." "What's that?" Uncle Gino asked. "This Ithaca thing." "A tournament, Uncle Gino," Vinnie replied. "A big MMA tournament." "What the hell is this MMA crap?" Uncle Gino asked. "It's like fighting, Unc," Ryan chimed in. "Like martial arts and boxing all in one. The guys, they beat the shit out of each other in cages. It's better than wrestling!" "Oh, fightin'," Uncle Gino said. He glanced at Asher and nodded. I wasn't sure if it was with approval or merely acknowledgment. My uncle had always been a big fan of boxing. It had been the reason why I’d started to learn to box back in New York. "When is this tournament?" my father asked. Asher glanced back toward him. "Next month," he answered. "It's in Buffalo." "I gotta see one of them things, one day," my father said musingly. "Is that gonna be on TV?" Asher nodded again. "Yes, sir. It'll be on ESPN." "I'll have to tune in, maybe watch you fight," Dad said. "I always liked the fights, myself." The conversation went on pleasantly, and I gradually started to relax. Asher seemed to be perfectly comfortable. He had a lot in common as far as interests went with Ryan and Vinnie, and even promised to work with them in the gym if they ever wanted to come by. My father was warming up more and more to Asher, and even my sisters seemed to be sort of behaving themselves. They teased me occasionally and poked fun at me, but I knew they were just being my big sisters. I knew that they both liked Asher. My mother forced Asher to eat a second plate, which made my own full stomach churn, but Asher barely batted an eye. When everyone was done eating and bemoaning how full they were, my mother started clearing off the dinner plates. "I'll help, Ma," I said, getting to my feet. I picked up some of the dishes and headed into the kitchen with my mother. "You know, sweetheart," Ma said, drawing my attention, "I really like that boy. He's so polite. Seems so quiet and respectful. He's good to you?" I smiled. "Yes, Ma," I replied. "He is." "Does he..." She stopped and swallowed. "Does he know?" I sighed quietly. "He knows," I said softly. "I told him." "Oh, honey," my mother said emotionally. "It's okay, Ma," I said gently. "He was really understanding, really nice about

it. And he’s been so good to me." My mother nodded and patted me again, tears glistening in her eyes. I knew my attack had hurt both of my parents to their cores, possibly more than it had hurt me, if it was possible. I realized it had to be excruciatingly painful for a parent to have to witness their child being brutalized in that manner and be completely helpless to it. I knew that it had been an enormous struggle for them to watch as I had healed physically, but not emotionally. My father had been the one to pull the plug in New York. ‘I needed a change of scenery,’ he had said. And we had family in Pittsburgh. My parents had been ecstatic when I'd seemed like I was coming around after the move, perking up and coming back to life. But I knew they still had their moments, usually in private and not around me. At this stage, seeing my mother still so hurt and upset by what had happened, hurt me more than thinking about the actual attack itself. I grabbed a couple of plates for dessert and leaned in to kiss my mother on the cheek before heading back into the dining room. We sat around for another hour, chatting and laughing, drinking the wine Asher had brought, until it was time to leave. After helping my mother pack some food for Asher, I went back into the living room. Asher was nowhere to be found, and neither were my sisters. I was immediately suspicious, and was contemplating going after them when they reappeared. I wasn't sure what had happened, but when they returned, Alexis and Rachael were smiling innocently and Asher just looked amused. I narrowed my eyes but didn't say anything. Instead, I handed him a huge bag stuffed with food. His eyes widened. "It's all for you," I said with a smile. "Pasta, sauce, antipasti, caprese salad, deli meat, half a loaf of Italian bread. Enough food for a week." "Wow," he said, taking the bag. "Thanks." I gathered up my food and stood behind my sisters near the door. "What was that all about?" I asked my sisters quietly, narrowing my eyes. "Nothing you need to be worried about," Alexis said, smiling at me. "We just had a little chat with your boyfriend," Rachael added. "You know, just a friendly conversation." "He's not my boyfriend," I replied automatically. "What did you say to him?" "Juliet, stop worrying, for Christ's sake," Alexis said, kissing me on the forehead. "He's a good guy. We like him." "Really?" I asked, although I'd already known that. I glanced at Rachael. "Yes, baby sister," Rachael said, kissing my cheek. "We like him. We're just looking out for you, kid. We love you, okay?" I hoped that Asher wasn't standing right behind me, listening to this

conversation. I glanced over my shoulder and didn't see him in the immediate area, and turned, seeing him talking to my father in the dining room. I headed toward them, catching the tail-end of their conversation. "...good man. I like you. You're welcome in my house anytime." "Thank you, sir," Asher was saying, shaking my father's hand. My father leaned in, keeping Asher's hand clasped in his. "But if you ever hurt my daughter, in any way, I got a rifle and a shovel. No one will miss you that much. We clear?" "Yes, sir," Asher replied immediately, unfazed. "Crystal clear, sir." "Good." He clapped Asher on the shoulder and spotted me just outside the door. "Ah, my sweet girl. I was just telling Asher here how much I like him and that he's welcome back anytime." "Every Sunday," my mother's voice called back from the kitchen. I laughed and reached out to hug and kiss my father. "That's good to know. Hopefully none of you scared him off. Hopefully we didn't scare him off," I amended. "Not in the least," Asher said, smiling at me. "Goodbye, Asher," Alexis called over her shoulder. "Don't forget what we said!" "Never will," Asher called back. "Nice to see you again." "Take care," Rachael said brightly. "We'll see you soon!" "The words are friendly, but it always sounds so threatening," I mused. "Good to meet you, man," Vinnie said, offering Asher his hand. "I'll take you up on the gym offer. I wanna be as big as you are." I rolled my eyes at my brother-inlaw, again, and sighed. "Absolutely, anytime," Asher replied. He shook hands with Ryan and then offered his hand to Uncle Gino. "Nice meeting you, sir." "Yes," Uncle Gino said, shaking his hand in return. "You take care of my niece. Or it's your ass." He gripped onto Asher's hand for an extended beat, then let go with a nod. "Yes, sir," Asher answered. "Okay, bye, Uncle Gino," I said hurriedly before any more threats against Asher's life were made. "Bye, Daddy. Bye, Ma. Thanks for dinner. I'll see you tomorrow." I gave my uncle and my parents quick kisses goodbye and then turned to Asher. "Ready?" I asked. "If you are," he replied. He followed me out the door and across the courtyard. I heaved an enormous sigh of relief, glad the first meeting was over. It would be much less tense and more easy-going next time. If there's a next time, I thought, thinking again of my behavior from the night before.

"You did well," I said, and he smiled. "You have a great family," he said. "I like them all. Your mom reminds me a lot of my mom." "What did my sisters say to you?" I asked, and he laughed again. "They shoved me into the bathroom and told me that if I ever hurt you, they'd cut my balls off." He smirked. "Your father threatened me with a rifle and shovel." He nudged me in the ribs. "You must be pretty special if your entire family is threatening to end my life." "That's just how they are," I said. "But they do mean it." "Oh, I know that," he said with a nod. "That was obvious." Asher walked me up to my apartment. I glanced at him. He really did seem to be perfectly at ease and I got the impression he really had enjoyed meeting my family, death threats aside. When we reached my door, I faced him. "Listen, about last night," I began awkwardly and waved him off when he started to protest. "I really want you to know how sorry I am for acting like that, and how much I appreciate...well…" I paused. "A lot of guys in your position might not have been as...nice and...and...gentlemanly as you were. And although it doesn't seem like it, on account of the throwing of the alarm clock and everything, I thank you for that." Asher shrugged. "It just wouldn't have been right," he said simply. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. "I-I just don't want you to think that, like..." I sighed in frustration. "…That I'm the type of girl that..." He leaned down to look directly into my eyes. "I know exactly what kind of girl you are," he said quietly. "You never have to worry how I see you." He smirked a little. "And, now I know. Never, ever let you drink hard alcohol." His eyes twinkled. "Well, maybe not never..." I groaned and shoved his shoulder. "Be careful with me," he warned. "I'm stuffed to the brim and I could explode all over you." "That would be disgusting," I said, smiling. “Very disgusting.” He held my gaze for a beat. "Well," he said lightly, "I better get home. I need to digest this food before I go to sleep and I've got to get up early tomorrow." "Training?" "Of course. Then work." He hefted the sack with his leftovers. "Thank your mom for this again for me. And thank you for inviting me to dinner." "I didn't," I reminded him, grinning. "My sister did. And it wasn't so much an invite as it was a threat." "You're right about that, silly me," he said with a chuckle. Our eyes met again and he smiled. "Sweet dreams, Nutcracker."

"Sweet dreams." I slipped my arms around his waist to give him a light hug, feeling his free arm slip around me, his hand settling at the small of my back as he held me against him. Then, I lifted my face to kiss his cheek. Sensing my face moving closer to his, he turned his head quickly toward mine to look at me, and my lips ended up lightly bumping against the corner of his lower lip. I pulled my head back slightly, color flaming in my cheeks. "Sorry," I mumbled. Shit, fuck, dammit. His head was still turned toward mine and he hadn't pulled away. Our eyes met for a long moment, his pewter-blue eyes narrowing slightly as they moved over my face. I swallowed hard, wondering if I'd just accidentally made an enormous mistake. But then Asher leaned in slightly, his eyes dropping to my mouth, and a spark of excitement struck me low in my tummy. I jumped when I felt his nose brush against the side of mine, and then hovered his lips near my mouth, asking a silent question as his eyes met mine once again. Anxiety threatened to tear me to pieces, but I fought it back and tilted my head slightly, brushing my lips lightly against his. It wasn't a kiss, but it was my form of granting him permission. He held my gaze. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you, Jewel.” I heard him pull in a breath before I felt the earth-shattering warmth and sensation of his lips pressing into mine. A spike of nervousness stormed through me, and I wanted to freeze, but instead, I tentatively returned his kiss, allowing my eyes to close. It was all the encouragement he needed. One hand swept up my arm to slide under my hair and gently squeeze the back of my neck. I felt like I was going to burst into flames. His lips were unbelievably soft, and their fullness added a completely different sensation to my mouth than anything I could ever have imagined. I stood very still and soaked in the hot chills bathing me, and the smooth satiny feeling of his lips encompassing mine. The feeling of his rough, calloused hand and thumb lightly stroking the smooth skin of the back of my neck, cheek, and jaw, alternating with gentle squeezes, made me instantly breathless. The warmth of his breath flowing through his nose, tickled my cheek gently. How could I have ever felt the claws of panic at something so beautiful? The lines of worry and uncertainty, creased into my brow, smoothed out as I relaxed completely into him. I realized my arm was still around his waist and that I'd unconsciously begun to stroke his back. I parted my lips ever so slightly and followed the movement of his, feeling him out in a sweetly innocent curious way, letting his mouth do most of the work. It was my first kiss in over a year, and the

first kiss I'd ever really wanted in a terribly long time. I felt rusty, nervous...but eager. His lips moved over mine languidly, sweetly, as though he had all the time in the world. I liked that he didn't plunge in tongue-first; he was much more sensual than that. He never deviated from his slow, easy pace, and I found myself starting to get swept away on a wave of ecstasy. I found my lips beginning to return his kisses a little too quickly, too eagerly, as if they unconsciously wanted to keep time with my racing pulse. But he didn't let me. His lips kept it slow and sweet, and he pressed my back into the door, his thumb stroking my jaw gently. I was starting to get curious about his tongue, wondering if he was going to try to use it, and decided that if he did, I might be okay with it. I wondered what it tasted like; if it would be smooth or rough, and was thinking that maybe I might let mine slip forward, just the tip to brush over his lip and see if it encouraged him further. But then he pulled away from me slowly with a gentle smack of his lips. His fingers slid to my chin and his thumb smoothed over it as his eyes moved over my face. I found I couldn't look away from his lips, not caring if my want was plain on my face. I felt fairly certain I could have stood here with him against my door for the rest of my life, relishing in the feeling of his lips moving softly over mine. “Do you want to come in?” I asked with a ragged breath. He shut his eyes tightly then, and sighed. Did I say something wrong? When he opened his eyes again, our eyes locked. I saw desire mixed with pain and frustration brewing inside of his. A shiver shot down my spine when his dimples came out with the most perfect smile. “Jewel. When you beg me, like you did last night, I promise, I’m gonna make it a night you’ll never forget. But I want to take this slow with you. I don’t want you to regret anything.” His thumb moved to gently stroke over my dimple before he dropped his hand away. He reached into his pockets and drew out my keys and held them out to me. “Sweet dreams,” he said hoarsely. I took them and allowed my fingers to linger against his. "Sweet dreams," I echoed softly, then turned to open the door to my apartment. Listening to his footsteps slowly retreat down the hall as I locked my door, realization dawned on me. I wanted nothing more than to beg again.

Chapter Fifteen Her I STRETCHED OUT on the wooden spring floor in the dance studio. I loved it here at night, when I could see all the city lights. It was in these moments that I missed New York. I crawled toward the window to continue my floor stretches, my legs splaying wide as I leaned forward, my flexibility allowing me to rest my stomach flat on the floor. I leaned my elbows on the bottom of the window, peering out. I watched and listened to the torrential downpour of rain, and thunder and lightning breaking overhead. I wondered if I had the strength to go back to New York for the trial. I hated feeling like a victim; hated my anxiety, my depression. Hated that it had made me harm myself and feel like I couldn't deal with life at all. Hated that it made me withdraw into a shell of my former, vibrant self. Hated that I didn't know how to move past it fully. What was an appropriate length of time to get over being brutally raped and almost murdered? How long was it supposed to take until I could get over the deep, horrible ache of knowing I'd never be able to have children of my own? Idly I reached over and drew my fingers over my ankle, over the tightly tied ribbons of my pointed shoes. It was the ankle that I sometimes used to take my inner abuse out on, the one that Asher had seen. Since that night, I'd made good on my promise and not harmed myself anywhere. As my fingers smoothed over the satiny ribbon, I realized that it had been that long simply because I hadn't felt the need to do it. Asher seeing some of my cuts and scars had been a blessing in disguise. Previously it had been my secret shame, one that I carried with me all day, every day. I knew that even if I recovered emotionally, a part of me would always want to hurt myself when my emotions went ‘dark side.’ But I knew I had to begin to develop the strength to move past that. Asher had made me feel like I had a chance at least. Because disappointing people I never wanted to disappoint, would be far, far worse than any emotional trauma I could suffer. I’d let my mind wander and forgotten why I was here, late at night. My stomach twisted in fear at the idea of performing in front of God only knew how many people. I went through the dance once to go through all of the choreography, piecing it

together. Once the errors were ironed out, I went over the dance again, envisioning the movements in my mind as well as watching them reflected back at me. Then, I did the entire dance in my pointe shoes, and then again in my dance footies. After that, I hesitated, torn. I loved dancing en pointe, had always loved it. And in fact, I had shown such dedication and skill in my early years as a dancer, that I had begun training en pointe at the age of nine, as opposed to twelve like many girls. But somehow, the dance became more emotionally raw, more visceral, in the casual footies. They were like flesh-toned fingerless gloves for my feet. They gave me the appearance of dancing barefoot, and for the emotion of my movements, I knew I'd have to use the footies for my performance. As I caught my breath, sweating, my hands on my hips, I began to wonder exactly what else I would wear for my performance. I hadn't performed in such an incredibly long time. I went over the dance one last time, and I performed it perfectly. The dance was good; I was proud of it. I owed Ruby so much for forcing my hand. It was the best dance piece I had ever created, and that sudden knowledge and belief flooded through me and filled me with pride. I started to cry then. Uncontrollably. I was baring my soul, releasing my turmoil. Baring my wounds. I stared at myself in the mirror, stared into my own dark eyes. I watched myself frown, and the tears streaming down my face. My eyes slid slower down my reflection, stopping at all the ‘hot spots’ on my body that carried my scars. An idea for a costume captured my mind then, and I realized it was the only costume I could have ever worn for this song and this dance. My heart skipped a beat when lightning flashed outside and I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. Someone’s reflection was in the mirror. Asher. He was standing outside in the storm. He was drenched. But he didn’t seem to care. He was just watching me. Like he had done before. Abruptly, I turned on my heel and watched him enter the studio. He was soaking wet. I could hear raindrops fall from him and echo against the flooring. He didn’t say anything. Just kept right on walking toward me with set determination in his eyes. When he reached me, there was a crisp, clean smell about him. I lifted my eyes to his and saw that he was watching my face closely. I swallowed. Hard. He was so close to me when he whispered hoarsely, “It’s been three days since I tasted you and I can’t wait anymore, Jewel. You’re so fucking beautiful when you dance.” My heart was already thudding, but when Asher's lips landed on mine, it

kicked into overdrive. I had to grip on the back of his neck for balance, it was so intense. He pulled my hand around his back while his free hand slid up my hip to the small of my back, pressing me closer against him. I felt his lips part slightly and close briefly around my bottom lip, pulling at it. I ran my hand up his heavily muscled back and wrapped my arm around his neck. I let his tongue sweep past my lips as he brushed it against my bottom lip. I felt both of his hands tighten on my waist when I slipped my tongue out and stroked his. He let out a low groan and my synapses exploded at the sound and sensations I was feeling. Just the slight touch of him made my head swim. My fingers gripped the hair at the back of his neck and I pulled myself impossibly closer, now intent on nothing else but feeling his tongue against mine again. He slid one hand under my hair to grip the base of my skull. It almost felt like he was massaging it and it felt like bliss. I opened my mouth slightly, inviting his tongue in. A moment later, I felt that wonderful soft, moist warmth of his tongue as he slid it around mine, a little farther along its length this time than before. A strange, warm, prickling heat spread through me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt his lips close gently around my tongue and pull. I was so surprised at the intensity of the flare of pleasure I felt from it, I let out a soft gasp. I wasn't sure how long we slowly and leisurely feasted on each other's mouths. And aside from the sublime things he was doing with his lips and tongue, his hands were stroking and squeezing me, one hand in my hair and one at the small of my back. He stroked my back soothingly, slowly, before squeezing gently at my waist and then starting over. The hand in my hair massaged and tugged, my sensitive scalp tingling at his touch. Slowly, he gradually closed his lips around my tongue once more and suckled gently, the pulling sensation odd but pleasant. His lips pulled down the length of my tongue, releasing it at the very tip, before his lips immediately latched onto my bottom lip. He gave me another slow, moist, brushing, pressing, pulling kiss, before his teeth nipped gently at my lip and he pulled away. “Do you trust me?” he panted. “Yes, with my life,” I heard myself saying, with no control. I did. I did trust Asher, wholeheartedly. “Then trouble me,” he said, hoarsely. “Make your burden, my burden. I want to carry it with you.” He said it as if he himself felt the pain inflicted inside me. As if he saw me bare my soul, my wounds, in the dance. It felt impossible. It felt real. It was too much for me, and I lost my voice in that moment, but he carried on,

as though knowing I was struggling with the storm of emotions. “I want to be the man who sends you off to sleep feeling safe and loved, Jewel. Wake up feeling safe and loved. But I can’t do that unless you let me know where the hurt is,” he said, brushing his hand down the side of my face. “So that I can fix you.” “I’m unfixable,” I said, breathless. He shook his head, and his eyes blazed into mine. “They call me The Tornado. But for you, Jewel, I want to be the shelter to your storm.” My whole body shuddered then. From fear. I could see it in his eyes what he wanted from me. What he needed from me. It was primal. Raw. It shook me to my very bones. Not because I feared him, but because I feared feeling the same way in return. And I knew there was no going back. “I saw you, really saw you, when you danced. It’s your turn to watch me,” he said huskily. He gingerly lowered me down to the floor, and lay me on my side, facing the mirror. He lay behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Watch me in the mirror, Jewel,” he ordered softly. Watching each other’s reflection, I felt warmth starting to flood through me, little pinpricks of heat that started deep in my belly and blossomed outward. I'd realized with a start that Asher was turning me on, waking my body up, as I felt his body, his heat, pressed up against me. And when I'd realized that he was getting turned on, it made those pinpricks of heat shoot downward and pool between my legs, making my flesh twitch and crawl there. I could feel his arousal, see the fire in his eyes, at simply touching the bare skin of my legs, and it frightened me, intimidated me—but turned me on all the more. I wanted to run. Instead, I was surrendering. I heard a low guttural moan escape his lips then, and he turned my head toward his so he could kiss me again. He was moving his lips along mine in that extremely slow, sensuous way I could never seem to stop thinking about, drawing in deep breaths to take in his deliciously spicy, clean scent I couldn't get enough of. When I felt the tip of his tongue slide along the seam of my lips, a new desire flooded through me. I began to return his kisses, my body overruling my mind and forcing me to kiss him back hastily. But he gently cupped the side of my face and feasted on my mouth with his own. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt such want pound through my veins like this, blood surging to sensitive areas that had long since been disregarded as pleasurable body parts. They were now coming to life in a slowly delicious way. I was nervous. I was slightly anxious. But I was on fire. Asher Prince had managed to do the impossible. He aroused me. Made me feel like a real woman. Pulling back from the kiss, he ordered me to watch him in the mirror again. I watched his hand trail down my cheek to my neck, over my collarbone and down

my breastbone. The mere thought of what it would feel like for him to touch my breasts made my sex start to ripple, and liquid heat gushed to my panties. I felt like I was positively aching from the excitement throbbing between my thighs. His hand rested lightly on my tummy, but began to smooth over it slowly and sensuously as his lips and tongue caressed my neck. My head was swimming, and between what his mouth was doing to me, and the innocent places his hand touched, I felt like I could explode. I sucked in a noisy breath when his lips slowly moved down to rest against the pulse in my neck. I knew he could feel how fast and hard it was pumping, and saw his lips curl into a smile against my skin as he watched my reaction in the mirror. He moved his lips to the middle of my throat, and moved them down in a line of firm, slow, and slightly moist kisses, until he reached the hollow spot at the base of my throat. I couldn't keep in a tiny sigh of pleasure when I felt his tongue swirl slowly there. His lips continued down languidly, grazing the sensitive skin over my collarbones before moving down my breasts. He stopped at the edge of the slightly low neckline of my top and followed it to each side, moving over the tops of my mounds. He returned to the middle and moved his lips to my breastbone, and even through the fabric, I could feel his mouth burning there. Suddenly, I watched and felt his hand move lower, touching my thigh. I froze, feeling an even stronger wave of the confusing mixture of panic, fear, and raw desire. "Asher," I whispered to his reflection, and in reply he gently stroked the skin of my thigh, running his fingers from the middle of my quadriceps, down almost to my knee and back up. He swept his fingers from my outer thigh inward and he gently pressed his fingers there, pulling my top leg back toward him slightly. It opened me up slightly, and allowed me to feel more of his arousal. I gulped. I couldn't tell much through the fabric of his pants, but if I wasn't mistaken, he felt large. Intimidatingly large. I wasn't at all sure I was ready for it. Or rather, my body was ready; my mind was on the fence. I jumped when his fingers slid up my inner thigh and panic sent alarm bells going off in my head. "Asher," I whispered again, grasping for his hand. He squeezed my fingers gently before capturing my lips in his. The panic melted from my mind at the feeling of his lips and tongue. "I will never hurt you," he whispered against my mouth. "I just want to touch you. That's all." I lay very still, my breath hitched in my chest as my heart kicked into an impossibly high gear, and after a moment, he returned his fingers to my inner thigh and stroked the flesh there. I shut my eyes as the heat between my legs turned into tingling hotness and the throbbing, aching sensation I'd felt earlier, returned with a

vengeance. “No, Jewel. Open your eyes. Watch me,” he said hoarsely. I bit back a gasp when his fingertips brushed over my core through my panties, and a surge of pleasure forced my eyes open. He continued to stroke me through my panties, light feathery strokes that made me jolt every time I felt them, every time I watched his eyes burn with desire while he watched my reaction from his touch. His fingertips brushed the top edge of my panties, wedging under them slightly next to the flesh there. "Trust me," he said, his gaze still locked with my reflection, his voice making me shudder with want. I hesitated for a moment, my mind whirling, and I was tempted to pull away and say no, that it wasn't okay with me. Instead, my body quickly won that battle, and after a second, I nodded my permission. His fingers moved slowly under the edge of my panties again, farther in, until the tip of his finger brushed me. I could feel my own wetness glide with his finger and couldn't suppress the gasp that burst out of my throat. He dipped the tip of his finger inside me, ever so slightly, then stroked his finger upward to my hot little center, my wetness gliding him along. “Christ you feel so good,” he whispered in a low guttural tone, his eyes blazing into mine through our reflections. He slowly circled the hard tiny pearl at the top of my core lightly, over and over, until I felt the slow, tight heat in my pelvis begin to coil even tighter and tighter, and a very strange sensation I hadn't felt in so long came over me. I tried to tell him with my eyes that something strange was happening to me, tried to tell him how good it felt, when that coil wound just a little too tight, and with a final swipe of his finger, it broke. The tingling hot, hot heat, burst deep and low inside me, and I came in a shuddering, gasping rush, my eyes never leaving Asher’s—who looked so aroused by my climax, that he looked like he was coming too—as waves of pleasure slammed into me and I shook and convulsed in his arms, gasping, “Ash…” I whimpered as my mouth fell open. After a moment of lightly touching me to bring me through my aftershocks, he slowly withdrew his hand, pulling my panties back into place and pulling my skirt back down. He returned his fingers to the skin of my thigh as his lips moved against my neck. His hand ran languidly up my abdomen, stopping at my breastbone to press lightly there as his lips moved to the pulse in my neck. It was still beating fast and hard, but starting to slow as a deep, satisfied sleepiness settled over me. I could still feel his hardness pressing into the back of my thigh. If it was possible, it felt even harder than before. I wondered shyly if I should return the favor, wanting him to experience even a taste of the pleasure I'd just had. I met his eyes, and swallowed, biting down into my lip. His smoky eyes moved over my face and a little smirk tugged at one corner

of his mouth, almost as though he knew what I was thinking. He tilted his head and pressed his mouth to mine firmly, and sensuously, doing nothing to help slow the beating of my heart or extinguish the slow burn of desire between my legs. He gave the tip of my tongue a little flick with his before chastely pressing his lips to my temple and wrapping his arms around me tightly, pulling me into his chest. He looked back at me, through the mirror. “You’re my girl.” It was a proclamation, like he was claiming ownership. But it was almost said as a question, and his eyes were telling me that it was up to me where we went from here. I didn’t second-guess my choice. “I'm your girl.”

Chapter Sixteen Him SHE LOOKED BEAUTIFUL. Which was the cause of my sudden difficulty with the English language. I'd never seen her look quite this way—in a soft, sweet dress, with her hair styled into silken waves I longed to touch. I'd seen her look cute in her workout or dance clothes, pretty in her street clothes, hot when she'd worked at Trinity’s, and goddamn sexy when I made her come, a week ago, in the dance studio. And all of it had been awesome because I'd always thought of her as a beautiful girl. But before tonight, I'd never seen her look this...stunning. And it took my breath away. She was still chatting away, as we left the restaurant Elements. I was halflistening to what she was saying, but it was hard to focus on anything but her legs. To me, she had the perfect pair of legs. They were curved and shapely, like a woman's should be, but defined with sleek muscle from years spent honing her craft. And in her short dress, they were set off to perfection. I'd noticed the first night at Trinity’s that her legs were great, but they were driving me to distraction now. Walking down the street, we saw several groups of people dressed up in fancy clothing. I heard a sigh and glanced over at Jewel. "They're probably headed to Giselle tonight," she informed me with a small smile. "That's why they're so dressed up." "Or maybe they're just going to fancy dinner, like we did," I replied. She gave me a half-smile and shrugged. "Maybe," she agreed. “Let’s take a walk together.” I ignored the outright stares that I received from some of the passers-by, but when a few young men practically stopped in their tracks to stare at my girl, their heads turning, I looked at them steadily and narrowed my eyes. They got the silent message—threat—and kept it moving. "I want to show you something," Jewel said suddenly and pulled me around the corner of the block and down the street. She stopped in front of a small front-store space that had a ‘Lease available’ sign up in the window. "This is my studio," she said. "Well, my dream studio." With new interest, I regarded the building before cupping my hands around my face to peer inside the window. It was pretty gutted and needed quite a bit of work, but it was in a good location. "I've spoken with the bank, and they know I'm interested," she went on. "But

until I make my down payment this place is still considered available. I'm sort of in a race against the clock to get my shit together. But I'm close. I'm really close." "Nice little space," I commented. "Could definitely watch you dance in here... and other things." I winked. She beamed at me, her cheeks becoming a darker shade of pink, and turned her attention back to the window. "I'm working on it," she said. She rapped her knuckles on the glass. "This will be mine one day. I'm determined to make it happen." She sighed and let her fingers trail down the window before resuming their place on my arm again. I continued to walk her down the streets. "I, uh, I wanted to tell you that I decided to testify." I let a small, proud smile cross my face. "I’m glad to hear that," I said. "I'm proud of you." "My family is going to be there," she said. "And Ruby. I finally told her what happened… But, not in the courtroom with me, just at the courthouse. It would be awkward to recant what happened in front of them, and, well, I wouldn't want to put my family through that again. Uh, anyway. It, uh, it would mean a lot to me if you came, too." I blinked in surprise. "You want me to be there?" I asked quietly. "It's the Monday right after the weekend of the Ithaca tournament, in the city," she said quickly. "So I know you'll be really tired and it's like a seven hour drive from Buffalo which is really kinda far for a favor. So if you can't make it, or you don't want to, I totally—" "Jewel," I said, lifting a hand in the air. "Stop. You want me there, I'm there. That's it." She caught her breath from her verbal torrent and bit her lip. "Thank you," she said. "I hope it's not weird that I asked you. It's just—well, outside my family you're the first person I've told what happened to me. And, well…" She blushed and dropped her gaze again. She was doing it again, so I reached over and slipped two of my fingers into the little fist she didn't know she was making, to get her attention. Her eyes shifted to our hands and then to my face. I stared intently into her eyes. "'Nough said," I said quietly. "You had me at 'it would mean a lot to me if you came'. And I’m yours now, Nutcracker. Yours. That means you can ask whatever the hell you like from me." I smiled, and she returned it. “Just don’t ask for something, you know, way too kinky.” "Okay," she said, softly laughing. "Since we were on the subject of favors," I began, "what do you think about coming with me to the tournament?" Jewel looked up at me in surprise. "Um, really? You would want me to come?

You know I don't know anything about that." "I'd like you to be there," I said. "Bailey and his wife, Tess, are going. It'd be cool to have you there, too. I don't care if you don't know much about MMA." "Anything," Jewel corrected with a smile. "I don't know anything." She paused and then glanced up at me. "Could I…do you mind if I think about it?" She bit her lip. "I know that makes me sound like a bitch, since I asked you to come to my thing, and you said yes right away, and now you're asking me to go to your thing and here I am asking to think—" "Jewel, it's okay," I said. "Take all the time you want." I paused. "Well, not all the time," I amended. "I'm leaving in a few weeks. Thursday morning. So I'd need to know before that to make hotel room arrangements for you." "Okay," she said. "I'll let you know soon." "Good," I said. I looked at my watch again and was surprised to see that a half hour had flown by. "We should probably get going," I added. We made our way to the movie theater and Jewel started to turn in toward it, but I kept moving us. "Asher," she said in confusion. "The theater's right here." "Do you trust me?" I asked calmly. “Yes. More than anyone.” She let me lead her on. I glanced both ways before crossing the street. The Harmony was to our left and there were scores of people walking up and into it. Jewel looked up at me like I'd lost my mind. "What are we doing?" she asked in utter confusion. I stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at the brightly lit marquee with ‘Giselle’ on it in huge black letters. I turned and smiled down at Jewel as understanding began to dawn in her eyes. "Did I say a movie?" I asked casually. I shook my head. "Sorry. I meant a ballet." Her mouth fell open in surprise and she turned her eyes up toward me, their warm chocolate brown depths filled with wonder and gratitude. She sighed before a slow, sweet smile spread across her face and shadows creased her cheeks deeply where her dimples were on full display. I couldn't help myself. I leaned down and brushed one of them with my lips. I pulled away, looking into her still smiling face. She was shaking her head slightly and seemed unable to come up with anything to say, but the look on her face said enough. I took her hand in mine, feeling her give me a tight squeeze, and led her inside the theater. "Showtime," I murmured against her ear.

I groaned inwardly and had to laugh at myself as I thought about what Bailey, Connor, Leon, even Gable, or any of my Marines would say, if they knew I’d gone to a ballet. I’d never hear the end of it, but screw it. I liked watching her enjoy it. Watching her enjoy the show was like watching a show in and of itself. A private show. Just for me. Her eyes would widen at times, and be heavy-lidded at others; her full lips would part, the corners occasionally pulling into smiles. She would bite her bottom lip, then purse them, then sigh contentedly before starting all over again. Though the theater was dark, I could see the lights from the stage reflected in her large eyes, sparkling with appreciation and contentment. Watching her in a state of happiness I'd never seen before made my heart tug in a funny little way. Although I'd been struck earlier in the evening by how lovely I thought she looked, it was nothing as compared to how she looked now. In this moment, she had never been so beautiful to me. And it had nothing to do with her appearance.

Her AFTER THE BALLET, we came straight back to my place. It didn't really take a whole lot of persuasion on my part to convince Asher to lay in bed with me. I stopped short, seeing Asher standing in front of my bed with his back to me. He was pulling off his shirt and I forgot about everything as I looked at the muscles of his back, his well-defined trap muscles, the curve of his shoulders. He turned around and caught me looking, and smirked at my expression. He moved past me and I couldn't help but eye his chest and stomach. I moved toward my bed, and after a moment's hesitation, undid my dress and let it fall to the floor. It was an extremely bold move, but I felt at ease. I lay down, pulling the covers over myself. In the darkness, Asher crossed toward the bed. He slipped beside me and I froze when he brushed my bare leg with his foot. He gathered me up and pulled me against his chest. "Did you have a good time?" he asked. "I can't even begin to describe how much I enjoyed myself," I answered sincerely. "That was probably the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. But I don’t understand. You must have bought those tickets the same day they went on sale. Before we talked. Because by the time we did, they were sold out. How did you know?" "I wish I could take all the credit," he admitted. "But your girl Ruby hinted it was your favorite ballet and that you were pretty sad when you didn't think you'd be able to go." "Ah, Ruby," I said, giggling. "Still, you didn't have to do anything about it but you did it anyway, just to make me happy." "I’d take on the whole world, Jewel, just to make you happy. I don’t usually like to use my fame to pull strings—but for you, I’d do anything,” he said, stroking the ends of my hair. We stayed like that for a while, my fingers twitching as I fought the urge to run them over his warm skin. I no longer felt sleepy. I felt warm. Then hot. Then aroused. As though he could sense it, Asher began brushing his lips against my forehead, my temple, down my cheek, until he found my lips in the dark. I latched on immediately and grabbed at him, deciding to allow my hands to move over him all they wanted. His body was incredible and his face was better. I was in heaven. He was only wearing sweatpants, and once again I could feel his hardness spring to life against my thigh, as his hand slid down to it, touching my smooth

skin and pulling my leg up to his waist. At the same time, his tongue was coaxing mine to meet his in a slow, moist tango, and I could taste the sharp mint flavor of his mouth. His fingers slid up my thigh and swept across the front, heading for the warm shelter they'd found between my legs before. They hesitated over my panties, and I knew he was making sure it was okay with me again. Given that I'd hardly been able to think of anything else since then, I whispered, "God yes." His fingers brushed slowly, lightly, against me, through the fabric of my panties, and I shuddered, feeling my sex moisten. He continued to tease me through my panties, and I felt the same, familiar tight coil of heat tense in my pelvis. Finally, after several long moments of agonizing teasing, he slipped his fingers under the material, against my flesh. When his finger stroked my ultra-sensitive nubbin, primed with desire after three agonizing days thinking of him, and wanting him, I burst immediately, gasping into his mouth as I dug my fingers into his flesh. He chuckled softly, amused at my lightning-fast orgasm. He slipped his fingers lower, teasing my opening and enjoying my wetness. I lay very still, breathing hard, wondering if I would allow him to enter me with his fingers. And I hardly had time to fight myself about it when I felt one slip into me and stroke my inner wall, slowly but firmly. I gasped again, the hot sensation alien to me, after all this time. But I was so turned on that I wanted more. Yearned for more. My thighs unconsciously spread wider, and as my wetness gushed again, he added a second finger. He seemed to be breathing as raggedly as I was and I felt him straining against my thigh. I was tempted, so tempted, my body screaming for it, but I knew if I let my body make that call, my mind would suffer for it. "Asher," I whispered. "I-I'm not sure—" "Sshh," he whispered into my skin. "I told you. I just want to touch you." His fingers found a rhythm, and as they worked inside me, he buried his face in my neck, listening to my breathing, my soft moans. I could hardly believe I was experiencing this, that I was allowing it to happen, but...it just felt so good. So good, in fact, that I felt the familiar heat coiling in my stomach yet again, but this time it felt deeper, buried inside my core, more intense. “Ash…” I whimpered, as his fingers coaxed the feeling inside me to come to the surface, stronger and stronger, until my eyes were flying open again. My body shook and shuddered and Asher's lips dropped onto mine as I came again—so intense, it literally took my breath away for a second. He waited until I'd calmed down a little before stroking me gently a few more times and then withdrawing his fingers.

I was suddenly overcome with the desire to give him something in return. I felt shy about it, having been out of practice for quite some time. Despite that, my fingers touched the skin above the waistband of his boxers, before closing around the elastic and tugging downward. Instantly his hand was over mine, pulling it away. "No," he groaned throatily, his breath warming my neck. "But…" I said shyly. "…I want to." "And I appreciate that," he replied, smiling into my flesh. "But I'll be okay. I wanted to touch you. That's all. Remember?" "But—" "No," he rasped, kissing me. "Not yet." He gathered me up against him again, wrapping his arms around me. “Not until I’m worthy of you.” As I snuggled into his embrace, I felt slightly bad that I wasn't giving him anything back. But he was right. It might have been too much too soon. I laughed inwardly at my own grudging selfishness and quickly pressed my lips to his shoulder, wondering how in the world I'd gotten lucky enough to find someone like Asher Prince. They called him The Tornado. But he’s proving to be the shelter to my storm.

Him THE LITTLE BUNDLE of warmth that had spent all night pressed into my chest was suddenly gone. I immediately opened my eyes in the darkness, reaching out, seeking for it, when I felt a small hand grab me. "Hey," an angelic voice whispered in the darkness. "Just stay there and sleep a little. I have to get ready to go into the café." Years of military training had taught me to wake up instantly, so I was already fully awake. "It's like, four-thirty," I replied, my voice deep and gruff with sleep. "Come back here, Nutcracker." Her small form sat back down next to me, and I felt a pair of plump lips press into my cheek and then my neck. "I left early yesterday so I need to get there early this morning to make it up to Ruby," she whispered back. "I feel like I've been sneaking out early all the time lately. Otherwise I would still be lying with you, I promise." She trailed a finger down my cheek and along my jaw. "Just lie here for a little bit while I go get ready. It's too early for anyone sane to be up." Suddenly a small shadow leapt onto the bed beside me, a low purring noise accompanying it. "Hey, man," I murmured to the cat, holding out my hand as Rocky leaned his head into my palm. The cat swiped his cheeks against my hand then stepped closer, ‘bunting’ me in the chest before stretching up to rub his tail end against me. "Looks like Rocky's claiming you for his own, now," Jewel sniggered, getting up from the bed. "What’d you mean?" I asked. "He’s marking you," she replied. I glanced at her, cocking an eyebrow. "Christ, he’s not gonna piss on me or something, is he?" I grunted. Jewel laughed out loud. "No," she reassured me. "I mean...I don't think so. Maybe. He’s never been around a boy before." “Great,” I said dryly, before Rocky jumped down and sauntered out of the bedroom. I lay quietly as Jewel disappeared into her bathroom. When I heard the shower turn on, I leaned back and shut my eyes. But I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep. I thought about my girl in the shower and instantly felt rock hard, and an ache deep in my groin from being unable to release a load last night. Even so, I still felt satisfied that I'd brought Jewel pleasure after pleasure. I'd never intended for her to reciprocate, and had she really tried, I wouldn't have allowed her to do so

anyway. I knew I had to ease her back into intimacy. She would never regret being with me. I thought about the amazing feeling of the juices her perfect pussy squirted on me, earlier. The way her body had tensed right before she came, the tremors that overtook her, the way her lips had parted, and how she'd gasped out something that sounded like my name—all of that had been so satisfying. I couldn’t think of another time in my life when I'd been so fucking horny. Of course I wanted to sleep with her, to be cock-deep in her sweet pussy. I was a hot-blooded man with needs too, but something told me that taking it as slow as possible with Jewel, would reap rewards for us later on. And I respected her far too much to be so insensitive to her needs and boundaries. Jewel was beginning to trust me, I could sense it. And I'd be damned if I did anything to destroy that trust, ever. When she emerged from the bathroom, her dark hair was swept up into a sexy bun at the crown of her head, and she was dressed in tight jeans, boots, and a black sweater that hung off one shoulder. She smiled shyly and looked down at her feet, lifting a hand to scratch her head. I knew she was feeling timid after last night, but I wanted her to feel great about it and not awkward. I got up and stretched a little, the small bones of my back popping satisfyingly, before making my way over to her. I trailed a hand over her bare shoulder before lowering my face to her neck, breathing in her freshly clean scent before I pressed my lips to her flesh. I was pleased when she shivered a little. "All right if I use your bathroom?" I asked. She smirked up at me. "No. You have to pee off the balcony." I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I've done worse. I mean, they're your neighbors." She laughed and shoved me in the direction of her bathroom. After I finished getting washed, I glanced at my watch, noting that it was just after five. I'd need to leave soon and get home to change and get to the gym. I was leaving for Ithaca soon and needed to make these last workouts and sessions really count. Speaking of Ithaca... I wondered what she would ultimately decide. I'd like to think that she would agree to come with me, because she liked me just that much, but if she declined, I wouldn't be upset with her, nor would I not be understanding. I'd be disappointed, but I'd get it. After all, the Ithaca tournament was immediately before the trial. She would be traveling with people she barely knew. Although her anxiety issues seemed to be a lot better than when I'd first met her, I didn't know how she'd fare in such a testosterone-riddled, violent atmosphere as befit an MMA tournament. I inwardly face-palmed myself. What had I been thinking, inviting her along? I left the bathroom and headed down the short hallway that opened up to the

living room and kitchen area. Jewel was leaning over the back of one of her chairs. I took a moment to appreciate the sight of her backside and thighs, showcased in her tight jeans. My balls were bloated now after holding off all night, and I knew then, when I got home, I’d have to empty a load or two in the shower, thinking only of her. I walked up behind her and rested my hand on her back gently. She looked up at me and smiled, then straightened so she could give me a proper hug. "You know," I began, "I was thinking about how I invited you to come to Ithaca." "Mm-hmm," she murmured back, her cheek against my chest. "I was thinking maybe that wasn't a good of an idea." She lifted her head and cocked it curiously. "Why do you say that?" I shrugged. "Just got to thinking maybe it wasn't the best environment to bring you to—loud. Violent. Dudes walking around like they got something to prove to everyone." "And those are some of the things I'm thinking about," she said with a sigh, as if she was relieved I had said it first. "Deciding whether or not I can handle that. But you just can't disinvite me." She frowned at me. I couldn't help laughing. "Don’t fear, I’m not planning on throwing an alarm clock at you.” She narrowed her eyes playfully. “All right. Well...you keep thinking about it then. I wouldn't be upset either way." "You wouldn't?" she murmured, pressing up onto her toes. "You wouldn't be upset if I didn't…come…for you?" She brushed her lips against me, and my cock stirred at the slight touch. “Baby, you’ll always…” I swiped my lips slowly over hers, amused by her hands suddenly tightening around me. “…come…for me.” She tried to press her body against me, and my cock continued to swell at her touch. I carefully gripped her waist in my hands and held her away from me slightly. I was going to fucking explode, right there and then. Like I’d said, bad as a fucking teenager. "Thought you said you needed to get to work," I groaned throatily. She made a little noise of frustration and dropped her arms. "I do," she sighed. “I'm exhausted." “Oh, why’s that then?” I asked with a cocky smile. “Asher…you know why,” she murmured, dropping her gaze. She was blushing. "Must have been all that snoring last night," I teased. "Excuse me?" she said, smacking my chest lightly. "I don't snore." "Right, of course," I said. "My mistake. Of course you don't. That must have been Rocky."

"Rocky does snore," she insisted. "So, yeah. It probably was." I smirked and nodded. "Sure. Blame the cat. Poor guy." "I do not snore!" she said and smiled. "Jerk." She moved to her kitchen counter and handed me a steaming mug of coffee. I accepted it hesitantly. "You didn't have to make this for me," I said. "I won't be able to drink it all before you leave." "Take the mug with you," she said. She smiled at me with a mischievous look. "I know where you work. Not where you live—but where you work. I'll find you." It occurred to me that Jewel had never been to my place. "I guess I can't hide from you then," I said, grinning. "I'll drive you to work." "Officer Safety, it's like three blocks away," Jewel protested. I shook my head. "It's also like, five in the morning," I pointed out, mimicking her tone. "It's dark outside. Come on. Don’t argue with me. You won’t ever win." I carried my mug carefully down the stairs as she fed Rocky and locked up behind her. Her boots thumped hollowly down the stairs as we walked out to my car. As I usually did, I reached for the handle of her door and pulled it open for her. "So what’re you gonna do in there so early?" I asked once we were settled in my Charger. "You don't open for a couple of hours." "Oh, I'll get the front end going, the machines assembled, then get the bakery case loaded, stuff like that," Jewel said, stretching in her seat. "And what about you?" I sipped at my coffee. It was perfect. "Run to the gym. Open the gym. Do some paperwork. Train. Spar. The usual..." I watched her closely. I didn’t want to leave her, didn’t want to be without her. "One day," I said. "One day," she echoed. When we arrived at the café, I insisted on walking her to the front door and waited while she unlocked the gate, pulled it aside, and unlocked the door. She wedged her foot between the heavy glass door and the frame and looked up at me. I got the feeling she was suddenly shy again. I met her gaze and reached out to push a stray lock of hair that had fallen free of her bun behind her ear. "Take care of my mug," she said finally. "I'll protect it with my life," I said. But I wasn’t talking about the mug.

Chapter Seventeen Her AS THE DAY wore on, I found myself unable to think of anything but the previous night. It had been so perfect, and it was the sort of thing that I'd never really believed existed in the real world for victims like me. But, it had happened. And it wasn’t a dream. I could still feel how his fingers had glided against me, teased me, touched me so perfectly, and exactly how I never knew I liked to be touched, until my peak had burst out of me, stronger than I could ever remember experiencing. I couldn't even really recall when the last time I'd had an orgasm. It had been long before even the attack, although the attack had solidified the obsolescence of that part of my body. I never thought I'd ever feel arousal or desire again. I assumed I would never have sex again for the rest of my life. Never want it again. I'd healed physically, although that had taken months. I'd had to undergo a series of several surgeries. The damage done from his gun had caused the need for an impromptu hysterectomy at the ripe age of twenty-two. Mentally, I'd assumed I would never be intimate with anyone again. And then, Asher had completely discombobulated me. I thought about the idea of having sex with him. The thought, on a surface level, made me want to run screaming for the hills. Not because of him—the overall idea of allowing anything to penetrate me again, terrified me. But as I forced myself to envision it, remembering the feeling from last night, I wondered if it couldn't be as wonderful as people made it out to be. My body instantly grew warm as I imagined his thick firm skin sliding against mine, his rough fingers working the magic I'd come to realize they were capable of, his lips moving against mine in the way I loved. I felt my skin flushing and tightening at the fantasy. Then, I imagined him gently parting my legs and settling in between them, and that large, hard bulge I'd felt through his pants last night moving against my core. My stomach felt tight and tingly and my breath started to hitch a little faster. Then I imagined him moving into me, invading my most sensitive and most abused area with himself, and panic settled over me like a wave. My eyes flew open as my heart began to beat erratically and fear made my vision swim. I took a deep breath and blew it out hard through my mouth, automatically going to the relaxation techniques I'd been working on lately, instead of my medication. I

put my hands on my hips and frowned at the floor. My body had been responding favorably until my mind got in the way, and it was disheartening. I knew on a physical level, I wanted to be with Asher that way. I just didn't know how to make my mind fall in line with that. At least, Asher hadn't done anything more than touch me, like he’d promised, and he had made it clear he wasn't looking for any sort of reciprocity either. As I began refilling the flavored syrups behind me on the counter, I wondered when the next time he would touch me like that would be, and at the thought, I began to feel a little throb deep inside me and my sex suddenly tingled. I bit my lip, losing myself in how I felt. Suddenly I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Are you taking care of my mug? Thanks for asking me how I am. Yes. The mug is fine. I think. I'm not really sure. I left it alone at home. WHAT?! Sorry. Had work. I'll be needing it back from you as soon as possible. Obviously you can't be trusted with nice things. I saw a thousand coffee mugs between your sink and your cupboard. That's beside the point. I want THAT ONE. You're welcome to come get it from me later. I think I will do that. When I get off work. If that's what it takes to get a visit from you...I think I'll keep your mug forever. Highly unlikely. And don't eat dinner. Talk to you soon! I smiled. I knew I couldn't wait a full day to see Asher again. Hell, I couldn't even wait twelve hours to see Asher again. I wanted to see him. I wanted to be alone with him. I wanted to give him every part of me.

Him I LOOKED UP from my desk when I heard knuckles rapping on the doorframe. I smiled when Jewel stepped into my office. I'd just finished sparring with Connor and Leon, half an hour before, and had taken a shower in time for her visit. I rose from my chair to step around my desk and reached for her just as she set a brown paper bag down. I perched on the edge of my desk and took her hand, pulling her to stand in between my legs. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed my face into the side of her neck, reaching up to stroke her back. She laughed a little breathlessly, unaccustomed to my forward display of affection. The intimacy we’d shared now seemed to break a barrier. At any rate, barring any real discomfort she might feel, I didn't really care if it was too forward. I'd fucking missed her all day and the sight of her, and being able to touch her now, made me feel at peace. I kissed the side of her neck and released her, looking calmly into her face as she flushed a little and dimpled at me. "Now that's how you treat a girl," she teased. "I do what I can," I smirked. I glanced at the sack as I suddenly felt hunger pangs begin to assault me. Before I'd sparred with the guys, I'd run a few miles, and then hit the weights and the bags. I hadn't stopped to take a break and hadn't eaten since breakfast. I was starving. "What’d you bring me, Nutcracker?" "A giant chicken and avocado wrap on a multigrain tortilla with lettuce and sprouts and some sort of boring low-calorie dressing," she replied. "Now that's how you treat a man," I teased back. She grinned. "I suppose it's the least I can do, after the supreme treatment I got last night." I knew she wasn't referring just to the dinner and the ballet by the way she averted her eyes shyly and blushed a little. She cleared her throat and reached for the sack. As she leaned past me I caught her chin in one hand and brought her face toward me to kiss her in her favorite way. "I have a confession to make," I whispered as I pulled away slightly. Her eyes were still closed. "Hmm?" she asked absently, as I traced my thumb over her bottom lip. "What's that?" "I've been thinking about kissing you all day." She flushed even deeper. I leaned in again, cupping her jaw in my hand gently. "Don’t make me wait, Jewel," I growled against her lips before kissing her deeply again. She grabbed at the front of my zip-up sweatshirt and returned my kiss, and after a while, I completely forgot about my meal, my office, the gym. The only thing that mattered right then,

was Jewel pressed against me and that I was finally tasting the full lips I'd been thinking about all goddamn day. Taking a load off this morning, did fuck all. I wanted the real thing. Connor came barging into my office then, the door flying open. Jewel tore her lips from me and jumped a foot in my arms. She half hid behind me. I remained where I was, only lifting my eyes to glare at Connor. "Oh, sorry, man!" Connor yelled, sounding anything but. I wanted to punch that smug grin off his face. "The next time you come in here without knocking first, you get demoted to human punching bag," I warned gruffly. "The hell you want?" Connor still had the little shit-eating grin on his face when he handed me a flat cardboard envelope. "Here," he said. "This was just couriered over for you." He handed off the envelope and stepped back, fixing Jewel with a wider grin. "Nice Asian flush there, Mac," he smirked. "Connor, get the hell outta here before you smash you through that wall," I barked. Connor snickered and backed out of the office, making a show of shutting the door gently. I shook my head after him and glanced over at Jewel. She looked at me from under her lashes and dimpled. "Forgot where we were for a minute," she teased. I smirked. "Me, too." I looked down at the large envelope in my hand and tore off the perforated strip, tossing it onto my desk. I reached inside and withdrew a few sheets of paper, looking them over. Jewel folded her arms and shifted her weight as she watched me quietly flip through the sheets of paper. I could practically feel impatience radiating off her and glanced up at her. "You doing all right over there?" I asked. "What's that?" she asked. I smiled at her nosiness. "None of your damn business," I teased. She narrowed her eyes playfully then shrugged. "You're probably right," she replied. "I am horribly nosy." "No, it's fine," I reassured her. I held up the sheets. "This is my notarized tournament contract, my fight itinerary and my schedule of events." "Oh, so you're all set then?" she asked. "Sort of," I answered. I folded my arms and glanced at her. "Just wondering if I'll have some company or not." My tone was teasing but my eyes slid over her in a way that made her putty. "About that…" she said, and I lifted my eyebrows at her. "…Um. Well, I do want to go with you. I just had to think things through a little. For me, sometimes I

can't just make a decision like a normal person would. I have to think about everything—I mean, everything." "I get it," I replied. "And for the record, I don't look at you as abnormal. I look at you as…unique." She smiled. "Thanks…" she said, and I watched her eyes flutter. "…Anyway, here's the thing. My father will chain me to a chair in their apartment to keep me in Pittsburgh if he doesn't speak with you first." She rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. I'm twenty-three. But you don't understand. I'm the baby of the family. My dad is Sicilian. He is extremely overprotective. I don't think that will ever change, even if I get married or something. He—" I lifted a hand. "Jewel, it's cool," I replied. "I always intended to speak to your father anyway." She was surprised. "You were?" I lifted an eyebrow and nodded. "Yeah, of course. You think I'd take someone's daughter out of town without clearing it with them first? If I had a daughter, I would insist on the same thing. In fact, I probably wouldn't let her fucking leave." I shrugged. Jewel was floored. "Wow. Well, okay." She beamed at me. "I guess that's settled then." I looked at her steadily. "Jewel," I said, in a tone that was almost stern. "Why do I get the feeling that you're not being completely honest with me?" "About what?" she asked, but she found herself unable to meet my eyes. "About coming with me to Buffalo," I replied. "I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm really good at reading people. And I can tell you're still not sure. Why don't you just talk to me about it and tell me what's on your mind?" She let out a heavy sigh. "Okay," she began. "God, you’re worse than Ruby, being all detective on my ass.” “Jewel.” “Fine…don’t get me wrong. I do want to come and support you. I really do. It's just that I haven't been back to New York since I left, and I haven't traveled anywhere without my family. So I guess I'm just sort of scared of the idea that I'll be doing something all alone...without them. Which I know sounds really infantile." "No," I replied quietly. "It doesn't. I can see why you would be intimidated." I rose from the desk and stepped toward her. I knew how imposing I could be. I was tall and heavy with muscle, brutality radiating from my every pore. She'd told me she’d seen me in the ring countless times, had seen me in my violent element on TV and knew how scary I could be. But she wasn’t scared of me. Not anymore. I had gained her trust slowly. I would never break it, never break her.

I took her hand. "If you don't believe anything else I say, believe me when I tell you that you're safe with me," I said quietly. "I will not allow anything bad to happen to you as long as I'm alive. Okay?" I lifted her chin to scan her face with my eyes as though I needed to check and make sure my message had been received. She smiled. "Roger that," she said, and I returned her smile. "Now, will you let me eat in peace?" I joked. I reached for the bag but she closed her hand around the top of it and looked at me sternly. "I want my mug," she insisted. "You take me to my mug, and you get to eat." I sighed. "Your mug is at home. Safe. I told you this." She let an impish smile dimple one of her cheeks. "Then I guess you'd better take me home," she said teasingly, looking surprised with her boldness. She glanced around at my neat-as-a-pin desk. "I think your work here is done, anyway. Don't you?" I glanced around and laughed. "It's never done. But I don't have any evening appointments, if that's what you mean." I sighed. "You're starting to be bad for my work ethic," I said. Jewel shrugged and let go of the sack. "Okay," she said calmly. "I'll get out of your hair then." She started to stride past me for the door, but I merely laughed at her and grabbed her arm as she passed. I slammed her against my body and gripped her waist hard. "No, you won't," I commanded. "Not until I say so." "You're not the boss of me, Officer," Jewel returned childishly, lifting her face to me. I tilted my head down to take her lips hard and then pulled back. "No more until I get my mug," she panted. "To hell with that mug," I muttered, smirking at her. She turned her face and I sighed, releasing her. "Fine. Let's go. Be careful with my food or the mug gets it." Jewel snatched the sack from my desk and followed me out of the office. I locked up and walked through the gym. It was surprisingly busy for a Friday evening, but there were lots of guys around the ring, and as usual, there were also lots of angry groupies. I saw Jewel noticing the dirty looks she received as she followed me through the gym. She didn't seem to pay any attention to it, which made me smile. "What you smiling at?” Connor asked, when we passed. “Mind your damn business,” I grunted, hiding my smile. “You out, boss?" I nodded. "Make sure you and Leon lock up tight tonight," I ordered. "The other morning when I got here I saw that you missed a lock." "My bad, won't happen again," Connor replied. His attention was back on

ESPN before me and Jewel even made it out the door. "I see you're driving yourself around more and more," Jewel said, spotting my car parked down the street. "So much for saving gas money." I laughed. "Just for today," I shot back. "This crazy cat girl wouldn't let me out of her apartment last night. Almost made me late for work. I had to drop her off at her job and everything." "She sounds much too good for you," Jewel commented as I pulled her door open for her. "She is," I replied once she got settled in her seat. She smiled up at me and I leaned into the car to give her a quick kiss before shutting her door and jogging around to my side to get into the Charger. It wasn’t long until I was pulling up in front of my building in a part of town that was made up of mostly middle class citizens. The apartment building itself was very clean and smelled like a mixture of sawdust and vanilla. It wasn't very well lit, as several of the bulbs in the wall sconces were going out, but I led her to my first floor unit. I used a little metal computerized chip to unlock my door and with an electronic zing, I pressed down on the handle and stood back to let her in. She glanced around, smiling as I reached around her to flick on a light. "Expecting company?" she asked. "It's so clean in here." I smiled and shrugged. "Nah. I just like it neat." "Something to drink?" I asked, moving to the kitchen. "Just water," she replied. "Thanks." She took a seat on the dark grey couch, stretching her legs in front of her when I reappeared. I held a plastic bottle of Gatorade in one hand and held her mug in the other. I smirked at her and set the mug in front of her. Jewel saw that it was filled with water and ice. She chuckled. "Killing two birds and all that," I said, guzzling a swallow of Gatorade. “Is this your way of sneakily keeping my mug here? Making me drink from it so you’ll have to keep it to clean it?” “You think too much,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Jewel picked up the mug and sipped at it demurely. She set it back down and turned to face me. "I really don't care about the mug," she said. "It was all a ploy to see where you live. See how dirty you really are." "Ah," I replied. "Well done." I smiled at her. "I’m pretty sure I’ve shown you how dirty I can be." Jewel blushed. "Everything good?" I asked. "No," she answered, getting up from the couch. “No?” I asked. “What’s wrong, Jewel?” “Asher…” She bit her lip and her eyes became heavy-lidded. “Take me to your bed.”

Her I SUCKED IN a breath when he scooped me up off the floor into his arms. He carried me to his bedroom, pulling my face toward his again to take my mouth deeply. My arms and legs wrapped around him and a surge of thrilled anticipation went through me. The familiar throb of desire crept between my legs as he stepped into his large bedroom. He tossed me onto the king size bed and then crawled over me, like a panther, deftly pushing my top off my shoulders before he pressed me down onto my back. He held his weight over me on his arms as he slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I fisted into his T-shirt tightly as I frantically kissed him back, feeling overwhelmed with lust. His fingers untangled from my hair and slid down my side and over the front of my hips. He pulled away from me long enough to brush his fingers over the button and zipper of my shorts, meeting my gaze for a sensual beat. I couldn't nod, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but stare at him and breathe raggedly. He took my silence as affirmation and slowly unbuttoned my shorts before pulling the zipper down. He paused again, gauging my reaction and didn't miss the way I bit my lip. His fingers hooked into the waist of my shorts and he slid them down over my hips and then down my legs. I helped him a little by pulling my knees toward my chest and out of the leg holes. My heart was pounding from a mixture of nervousness and excitement, the way it always seemed to lately. Asher had twice touched me between my legs, but he had never removed clothing from my body before, and somehow, it made the situation all the more...dangerous. He tossed my shorts to the side and leaned over me again, teasing my lips with his tongue to entice mine to come out and meet his. I obliged him and pressed up on my arms to meet him, to try and kiss him back as deeply as I could manage. His eyes dark and intent, he balanced his weight on one hand while the other slid underneath my shirt, over my trembling flesh. His hand brushed over one of the cups of my bra as his lips moved to my neck. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, marveling at how my arousal ratcheted even higher at the feeling of his full, firm lips moving all over my throat. A fevered moan escaped me as I gradually became aware that his lips were moving lower and lower, pausing in the hollow of my throat before moving down to the tops of my breasts. My entire body was consumed as he pushed my shirt up to my ribs and moved his mouth to the skin of my abdomen. He kissed a soft line over each set of ribs before moving down to my belly button. I froze, positive that

he wasn't about to do what it seemed like he was about to do. I was still up on my elbows, watching him, as he lifted his head and met my eyes again. It felt like a lightning bolt striking me when I saw his eyes were seething with desire. He hooked his fingers into the sides of my lace bikinis and I held my breath. My heart suddenly pounded in my chest, so hard, I thought it might burst. I felt my eyes go wide then as he inched my panties down over my hips. I was so caught off guard, and my body had turned to jelly, that I couldn't help him this time, so he moved my legs for me to get my panties off, and then slowly pulled my thighs apart. I was completely dumbfounded and speechless as he gently pressed a hand to my chest, forcing me to lay flat on my back. I stared up at his ceiling in the darkness, my eyes wide, shaking as I felt his warm breath against my core. Part of me wanted to get off the bed and run, and the other part didn't want to move from this bed for the rest of my life, as long as he was in it with me. Part of me wanted to tell him to stop, to not do what he was obviously planning to do, and the other part ached to lift my hips to meet his mouth first. I was just about to open my mouth to tell him I wasn't sure about it, that maybe he should stop, when I felt his lips brush the inside of one of my thighs and then the other, trailing his lips over my sex the way he did when he kissed me. “You smell so good,” he moaned huskily. For an instant I felt nothing else except his warm breath, and then, in a sensation that made me almost leap off the bed, the tip of his tongue slowly moved up the slit of my core, parting my velvety soft, thick flesh, before he drew my tiny pearl into his mouth and sucked. Raw need consumed me as I gasped, louder than I meant to, and gripped his bedding as I felt him pause again. I felt his nose brush the side of the inside of my thigh, almost as though he had tilted his head to kiss my sex the way he would my lips. Then I felt the warmth and wetness of his lips and tongue as he dug gently into my flesh. My eyes involuntarily rolled back in my head as the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation sparked up in my nerve-endings. My core throbbed and tingled from the sensation his mouth was evoking inside me. He continued to slowly devour my warm, wet folds, as though he were enjoying a decadent, lusciously sweet dessert. I let out a strangled gasp when his tongue burrowed inside of me, pulsing gently as he tasted me from the inside. It was a strange sensation but one that was incredibly pleasurable. I hadn't been aware I'd been writhing against his mouth until I heard a low chuckle erupt from his throat. He took a hold of my hips, keeping them firmly in place before his mouth. "Stop squirming," he whispered gruffly in the darkness, the heat of his breath

sending ripples over my flesh as my nubbin began tingling intensely with pleasure. He'd been leaving it alone for a little while as he explored my inner walls with his tongue, but it had started to ache from lack of stimulation as I grew more and more aroused. I knew that as soon as he returned his mouth to it, it wouldn't be long. I couldn't lay flat anymore, so I propped myself up on my elbows to watch him. I loved watching him. As though he read my mind, he withdrew his tongue from my depths before lapping the flat of it directly up and along the slit of my center. He pulsed his tongue over my pearl as his mouth closed around it, and a fiery heat enveloped me as I let out a fevered moan. His lips closed around it and as he suckled, he swirled his warm, moist tongue over it, sweeping back and forth. After only a short moment, I felt a hot, tingling heat slowly creep through my core as my climax began to settle over me. It was deliciously slow and lingering, and I felt every single tingle and explosion as they happened. My head lolled back as my hands first splayed open flat against the bedding and then fisted into them tightly. "Shhhhhhit," I hissed quietly, punctuating the curse with a moan as my entire body trembled and shuddered. I squeezed my eyes shut and couldn't help from rolling my hips, pressing myself against his mouth as he continued to lick me slowly. My now-sensitive center jerked and twitched from overstimulation and I tried to pull away, but he grabbed my hips again and slid his tongue back inside me. I whined at the sensation, wanting it to stop, but also for it to go on forever, as my breasts heaved. Finally Asher pulled his mouth from my quivering sex and he moved up the length of my body, his chest sliding against my sweaty abdomen as he pulled himself up to me. He breathed harshly as his lips hovered tantalizingly above my mouth. I stared at them for an instant. Before I lunged. He caught himself, bracing his weight on his forearms against the violence of my attack on his mouth and hurried to catch up with me as I voraciously took his lips. I could taste myself against his full, fleshy mouth and on his tongue, and I was surprised to discover how sweet I tasted. I sucked against his tongue and as he unconsciously rolled his hips into mine, my feminine ego and vanity were stroked when I felt his hardness pressing against me. He'd tasted me. And he'd loved it. As I continued to feast on his mouth with my own, I reached for his shirt and hiked it up just enough to grab at his belt. He held still, kissing me back almost absently as he was distracted by what I was doing. Deftly I pulled his belt apart and moved my hands to the button of his jeans. "Jewel," he whispered gruffly against my lips, feeling me pop the button open and start to tug on his zipper. "You don't have—"

"Shut up," I whispered back. I slid my tongue into his mouth to hush him, while at the same time, I finished with his zipper and drew my legs up to hook my toes into his waistband and pull them down a little. My hand reached for the elastic waistband of his boxer-briefs. "Jewel," he said again, a little harsher this time. "You—" This time, I bit him. And with a little grunt of pain, he went quiet. I immediately licked the place on his lip where I'd made a little wound, soothing it. Then, I used one hand to pull his waistband away from his body. The other hiked my tank top up to my ribs, exposing my stomach, before sliding down his muscled stomach— rigid with the effort of holding himself up—before moving smoothly inside his underwear and taking him in hand. I heard him suck in a breath through his nose as my hand encircled him. I let out an involuntary, soft moan as I gauged his size; his girth had to have been at least two inches, and as my hand moved snugly down his length, it felt endlessly long. I slid my fist back to the top, swirling my thumb over his tip and feeling it was moist from my touch already. I realized that we were now just holding our mouths together instead of really kissing, both intent on what I was doing. I continued to stroke him, massaging up and down his length, with my hand encircling him tightly. I felt his shuddery breaths against my skin as he pulled his mouth from mine to bury it into the flesh of my neck. My hand caught a rhythm as I moved over him, feeling his length and hardness grow impossibly. I jumped when I felt his fingers between my legs suddenly. I moved down his length again as he slid two fingers inside me, the movement easy because my sex was dripping wet. He moved his fingers in and out of me, in time to the strokes of my hand against him. The experience was unbelievably erotic as I lost myself in the feeling of him in my hand and his fingers inside my wet depths; it was like we were having sex without actually having sex. A part of me wanted to line his cock up at my opening and let him slide inside. But what we were doing now was deliciously torturous. It would make me yearn for the actual act even after we both found release. I felt his hardness swell up, giving new meaning to the term ‘rock hard’ as his breathing hitched in his chest. He tried to pull away from my hand, but I refused to let him go. "Jewel," he breathed raggedly in my ear. "I'm coming—" "Just do it," I whimpered back in a whisper. "I want to feel you all over me." A second later, I heard him let out a short, guttural groan, his body shaking slightly, the noise rumbling deeply in my chest, and I felt a sudden pool of warmth over the flesh of my tummy. The sensation of it, and the knowledge that I'd made Asher climax, combined with the ministrations of his large fingers still working

inside me, sent me toppling over the edge right after him. I came, hard, gasping against his mouth as I felt my own fluid gush out of me and over his hand while my body shook and my muscles contracted. He was still holding himself up on his forearm and he carefully shifted off me, rolling onto his back as he caught his breath. He glanced over at me, his eyes flickering toward my stomach. “That was...” His voice was deep and low in my ear. "Yeah…" I replied, breathless, my hands searching over the bed. I found the lacy material of my panties and used them to wipe his seed off my stomach. I glanced up and saw that he was watching intently. I half-smiled shyly. "What?" I asked. "It's just—I should probably not find that as hot as I did." "What?" I asked. "Which part?" "All of it, now that you ask," he said. He ran his fingers over my now-dry stomach. "But the sight of you using your panties to clean yourself up…is making my cock harder." Before I could think of something to say in reply, anything, he leaned over and slipped a hand around the back of my head, pulling me close to kiss me slowly and sensuously. I latched around his bottom lip and sucked at it, remembering the nip I'd given him. "Sorry," I said, when I pulled away. I brushed his lip with my fingertips. "I got a little carried away. Just wanted you to shut up and let me do what I wanted for once." He laughed. "Then I need you to tell me to shut up more often," he replied, rubbing at his lip. "Why do you always seem to put up a fight when I want to touch you back?" I asked quietly, my cheeks flaming. Asher sighed. "I just don't want you thinking that I'm doing anything to you because I need you to do something back," he replied. "I want to make you feel good. To know that it can be that way. I'm guessing I'm the first person that you've been with since...the attack." Uneasiness seized me instantly, but I shut my eyes for a moment and shoved the flashbacks that threatened to overtake me to the back of my mind. I took a deep breath and blew it out before replying. "Yes, you are," I said softly. "And...you've done a good job at making me feel great." My hand crept slowly toward his on the bed. "So great, that it makes me want to make you feel great, too. And…I want to know that you want me to make you feel great." I laughed at my awkward phrasing as I intertwined my fingers with his. "This may come as a shock, but I did sort of enjoy sex once upon a time. That

part of me just kind of went numb after…after what happened." "'Sort of enjoy sex'?" Asher repeated, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand lightly. "Well," I said, feeling embarrassed again. "I mean. It was okay. I haven't been with that many men so I guess my range of experience is limited. You're the first person to make me…" My cheeks burned and I cleared my throat. "That is, I haven't been with anyone who…" I was getting flustered. Asher laughed at me softly and tugged on my arm, pulling me against him. "Officer Safety at your service," he said into my ear, his lips brushing my jaw. My eyes closed against the sparks erupting on my skin. "I'm glad you let me touch you finally." He snuggled into my neck as his arms tightened around me. As I felt his breath warm my flesh, and a feeling of complete satisfaction settled over me like a warm blanket, I thought I was ready, more than ever, for everything Asher could bring me. "I didn't really have a choice," he replied, "if I wanted to keep my lip."

Chapter Eighteen Her WHEN I SUDDENLY jerked awake and sat straight up in bed, hours later, I knew I was dead. My sudden, sharp movements caused Asher to wake instantly beside me and sit up too. He watched as I slapped my hand down on his alarm clock and brought it to my face before slamming it back down on his nightstand. "Problem?" Asher asked. “You’re not gonna throw it, are you?” "Holy shit!" I breathed, ignoring his little dig. "Holy fuck. I am in so much trouble." It was thirty-seven minutes past seven o'clock. I was supposed to have been at the café at six-thirty. Once a month, my parents took a thorough inventory of the supplies in the café before preparing to make their large, monthly order to their suppliers for re-stock. I was explaining all of this rapidly to Asher as I hopped out of bed to struggle into my clothes. I swept my hair back into its bun and hurried into his bathroom, still talking, pausing only to splash water on my face and rinse my mouth with his mouthwash. He was listening to me rant quietly as he picked his clothes up from the floor and dressed, then moved into the bathroom behind me. He smiled at my wide-eyed expression. "Relax," he said to my reflection. "I'll drive you there. Okay? Give me a minute." I stepped out of the bathroom so he could use it and brush his teeth and paced frantically. I pulled my phone from my bag and groaned aloud when I saw thirteen missed calls from the café and several texts from Ruby asking for my whereabouts. When Asher emerged from the bathroom, a few minutes later, I held up my phone. "Dead," I repeated. "Dead." "So you're a little late," he said, picking up his gym bag. "They'll understand. C'mon." We hurried out of his apartment and into his car, me still chattering away as I stared out the window. "My parents don't play that late shit," I said. "Especially not today. Were you listening? This is like, the biggest day of the month." "I was listening," Asher replied, a hint of a laugh in his voice. I whirled to face

him and saw him quickly fold his lips inward to hide his smile. "It's not funny!" I shouted as he sped along. "They are going to be…they are… so pissed right now." To his credit, Asher was a good driver and got to Bloomfield in record time. Suddenly, the full horror of my situation hit me like a brick and I couldn't believe I'd overlooked it. "You have to drop me off at the corner!" I gasped. "They can't see you dropping me off. Oh, my God. My father will kill you. And I'm in the same clothes as I was yesterday? Oh, my God. You have to drop me off a block away." "Jewel," Asher said disapprovingly, "I'm not gonna hide the fact that I dropped you off. Come on, now. We're all adults." "My father doesn't give a shit that the law technically recognizes me as an adult," I said mournfully. He parked the car right in front of the café. "Besides, he and I need to have a talk anyway. Come on. Get out." The café, not open until eight, was still locked although the lights were on. I knocked hesitantly and Ruby appeared instantly. I had sent a text letting her know I was on my way. Ruby grinned from ear to ear, as she noted in one sweeping glance, that Asher and me were together at this early hour and that I was wearing my clothes from the day before. "How bad?" I asked breathlessly when Ruby opened the door. "Bad," Ruby replied. I nodded my head at Asher. "So bad, I'm going to leave and get some tea." "Uh..." I gestured to the barista counter where containers of tea were lined up neatly in a row. "Key word being leave," Ruby said, slipping into her jacket. She looked between Asher and me and shook her head sadly. "It was nice knowing you, Asher. May the force be with you guys." She slipped out and let the door shut behind her. "Juliet, get your ass back here!" my father's voice called from the back. "Let's get to work!" I trudged back toward the kitchen, Asher following close behind me. I peered around the corner and saw both of my parents holding clipboards and peering at shelves. "You mind tellin' me why the hell you're almost ninety minutes late?" my father asked absently. He glanced over at me and did a double take when he saw Asher standing next to me. "Good morning, sir," Asher said calmly. "Ma'am." "Good morning, Asher," my mother replied, but there was surprise and

curiosity in her voice. "What, uh…" Her question hesitated on her lips. "I drove Jewel to work this morning, ma'am," Asher replied. "You dropped my daughter off," my father said, and it wasn't a question. "Yes, sir." "You dropped my daughter off when she lives three blocks from here," Dad added. "Yes, sir." My father’s eyes shifted to me, and he noted that I was in the same clothes he'd seen me in yesterday. He lifted his eyebrows. I sighed. "What, Pop?" I asked, exasperated. "I went to Asher's last night. We watched a movie, and I fell asleep." "Then, that would be the time for you to wake her up and take her home," my father said to Asher, blinking. "I would have, sir," Asher replied, "except I fell asleep myself. I take responsibility for her not arriving on time this morning." I looked up at Asher and opened my mouth to protest, but he silenced me with a discreet touch to my back. My father was openly sizing him up. "And you better never let that happen again," he said, and it was a veiled threat. To his credit, Asher looked completely unfazed as he nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied. Dad shifted his eyes back to me, and I felt my insides shudder. "All right, then," he said, and I braced myself for his next point of attack. "What's this I hear about you wantin' to take my daughter out of town?" I noticed that Asher was standing with almost military-like rigidity, the force of habit from years in the Corps still strong upon him. "Yes, sir. I intended to speak to you about that today. I did ask Jewel if she’d be interested in coming to Buffalo for the tournament with me. I'd like to ask your permission, as well, provided she wants to join me." "Separate rooms?" my father demanded. "Yes, sir." "Dad," I said pointedly. I hated being discussed like I was neither present nor an adult. My father had always been like this, even with my older sisters, my entire life, but since the attack, it had become so much worse. "I'm just tryin' to make sure you're gonna be okay, sweetie," my father said. He lifted a finger. "My daughter better be safe wit' you." "Yes, sir," Asher replied. "She is and she will be. Absolutely." "All those violent guys, you can't keep an eye on her the whole time if you're fightin'," my dad went on. "I don't like the idea of her bein' alone. I know how

these guys can be, especially with a pretty girl standin' around." "She won't be alone, sir," Asher said. "My family is coming with me as well. My older brother and his wife. She’ll be in good hands while I'm in the ring." "She better be," my father said. "I told you before, I got a rifle and a shovel and a whole lot of connections." Asher's mouth twitched and I knew he wanted to laugh. "Yes, sir. Roger that, sir." Dad nodded, then stepped forward and extended his hand. Asher immediately grasped it, and they shook. I felt both touched and embarrassed. I loved seeing my father and Asher getting along, but hated that I felt like such a helpless infant at times. I knew that was just how my father was, and how he'd always be, but it never ceased to irk me. "Okay," I said. "Asher has to be going now." I looked up at him. "Right? You have to get to the gym. Or someplace that's not here." He smiled down at me. "I do need to be going. Sir. Ma'am." He turned back to my parents and shook hands with them both again. I had to roll my eyes when I saw my mother's eyes go wide and her hands flutter a little when Asher turned to her. "It was a pleasure as always." "Goodbye, Asher," my mother said with a big smile. My father merely nodded at him. I grabbed his arm and hustled him out of the kitchen toward the door. "See? That wasn't so bad," Asher told me. "And your dad is fine with you coming with me. Now it's just up to you, Nutcracker." "Right," I said. "I guess that was about as painless as it's going to be." "Now you just have to deal with how pissed he is that you were late," Asher added. He smiled innocently. "You made me late!" I hissed, shoving his arm a little. "You were supposed to wake up and take me home." His smile turned mischievous as he opened the door. He glanced over my shoulder then leaned down, tilting his head until his lips were just a breath away. "You just seemed to be sleeping so peacefully, all of a sudden," he murmured teasingly. "No clue why, though. I didn't want to wake you up." "You know why," I murmured back, my annoyance forgotten as memories flooded my mind and my face heated up. He laughed and leaned in, kissing me chastely. "What’re you up to the rest of the day, after you leave here?" "Working on my dance," I said. “Really need to nail this thing. You?" "Sparring," he replied. I realized that between both our endeavors, we likely wouldn't be seeing each other that evening. "Jewel!" my father's voice shouted. "Let's go."

“I want to come,” I said suddenly to Asher. “To Ithaca.” I realized then that being with Asher felt right. “I want to be there for you, Asher. Support you for once.” His eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners. Both sides of his mouth curved upward into a genuine smile. Seeing him smile like this, really smile, with his whole mouth, was so rare that I had never really noticed it before. I had always figured he would have a nice smile. He was a beautiful man, after all. It made sense. But seeing it, really seeing it, feeling its warmth and basking in its glow, watching as it completely transformed his face, knowing it was me who planted it there—it almost took my breath away. In reply, Asher leaned forward again and brushed my lips with his. It was reminiscent of our first kiss; sweet, almost loving, but there was just the slightest edge of the lightning hot passion that we’d managed to develop between us. I wanted to deepen the kiss but he suddenly pulled away. "Have a good one, ma'am," he called, looking over my shoulder. He squeezed my hand. "I’ll keep you safe, Jewel. You’ve got me now; you don’t have to be afraid anymore," he added. With another wave to my mother, he left, jogging toward his car. The smile I’d just been given, lingered in my heart. And the owner of that smile, that face, would never, ever, do anything to hurt me. Of that, I was certain. I was safe with him. I sighed and turned around, seeing my mother standing against the counter with her arms folded. I was smiling widely. "Ma," I said, but I couldn't stop smiling myself. "Please." "I like that boy," my mother said. "So sweet. Such a gentleman. So goodlooking, too." "He is," I said simply. "All of those things and more." "Your father likes him, too," my mother added as we walked back into the kitchen. "Don't let him fool you." "I do like him," my father insisted. "But if he fucks up, he's still a dead man. Capisci?" DESPITE THE FACT that I hadn’t seen Asher as much as I had wanted to, the next two weeks somehow managed to breeze by quickly. He was busy training for the tournament, and I was busy with my showcase piece. I did get to see him when I boxed at his gym, a few nights in the weeks, and I’d even met Bailey’s wife, Tess, for dinner at their house, a few times. It never failed to make me smile at how thoughtful Asher could be. He had wanted me to meet Tess so I’d feel less anxious about going away with people I didn’t really know.

Meeting Tess did help a little. We got on like a house on fire. Asher had been right when he’d said Tess and I shared the same witty sense of humor. I still felt a great deal of anxiety at the impending trip to Buffalo, tomorrow. But then I realized something. I hadn't thought of the trial for a while. I wasn't sure what that meant. Did I no longer care? Was I so afraid that I blotted it from my mind? All I knew was I'd received the official subpoena, telling me to be at the New York City Criminal Court this Monday at nine o'clock in the morning. Though I knew I needed to be packing for the weekend, I lay on my back on my couch—Rocky curled up on my tummy—staring at the ceiling, and thought long and hard about the trial. I made myself think of what it would entail, envisioning myself sitting on the mahogany chair on the witness stand next to the judge as I told the jury exactly what Jackson James had done to me almost a year ago. In detail. And he would be there. He would be sitting there across from me, with his horrible dark, almost demonic-looking eyes, remembering what he'd done as he listened to me. I wondered if it would affect him at all. But then, with disgust, I realized there was a chance it would turn him on. His defense would cross-examine me, trying to poke holes in my story. Or maybe they'd realize there were no holes to be poked, and would insist that he was out of his mind, hadn't known what he was doing. He had known. He was out of his mind; of that, I was sure and wholeheartedly concurred. He had known exactly what he was doing when he'd spent a weekend raping me, brutalizing me, beating me, making me beg for mercy and plead for my life, ripping into my soft flesh with his teeth and his hands and his gun. A memory of the absolutely agonizing pain I'd felt, pain that I'd never before experienced, and prayed to God that I would never experience again, washed over me. I could feel it like I could feel it back then, ripping over my skin, tearing down to my bones, making me wish I would die, just so it would stop and I would be free of his torture. I forced myself to think of all these things, curious in a detached way about my physical and emotional reactions. It was like I was studying myself, and I thought long and hard about the way my stomach clenched up and a feeling of incredible dread washed over me. My heart rate increased and I could feel it everywhere I had a pulse on my body. Rocky jumped off me suddenly when my breathing increased and tears stung my eyes as my entire body tensed up and shuddered. I thought of my bottle of anxiety medication, on my kitchen counter, untouched

since the day I'd stopped taking them—the night Asher had learned of my terrible secret. It seemed like so long ago. I wanted one. I wanted the whole bottle. Anything to make these feelings of sheer panic and anxiety go away and leave me. Anything to make me stop feeling like I was about to lose my life at every moment; that every stranger I looked at was plotting against me, making plans to rip my flesh apart and leave me for my family to find. As tears squeezed out of my tightly shut eyelids, I struggled to draw deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling loudly as the intakes of air shuddered between my dry lips. I felt an ache in my knuckles and realized that my hands were clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. In fact, I realized my entire body was tight and wound up with stress. I forced myself to relax, concentrating hard on making each muscle relax, one at a time. The exercise took a very long time, but when I was complete, I felt a small measure of peace. Next to walking out of the hospital and being in public, around people— enemies, as far as my shattered mind was concerned—for the first time after the attack, I knew the trial would be the hardest thing to date I'd ever have to do. But I was determined to do it. Even if it killed me, even if I broke down on the stand, even if I passed out or lost my mind—I'd do it. I'd never forget what Jackson James had done to me. The lingering damage he'd caused that would haunt me probably for the rest of my life, the reminder as my sisters continued to bear children, and their children bore children, that I never would be able to do the same, because he'd taken that away from me. I'd be damned and no better than him if I didn't testify just because I was scared, and as a result, he got off and did it to someone else. It had to stop with me. It would stop with me.

Chapter Nineteen Him “YOU DO REALIZE this is just a weekend thing?" I asked, looking down at the bags she was taking. "We're not going away for a week." She gave me an odd look. "I'm aware," she replied. "Can't you tell? I'd have so much more if it were longer than three days." Her face clouded slightly. "Well, four, I guess." I thought of the trial, and noticed the stress that came across her face, and leaned in to kiss it away. Her brow immediately smoothed as she focused completely on me, as I'd intended and hoped. "Come on," I said. She followed me down the stairs and out of the building. She helped me load her bags in the car and then I opened her door for her. Her face brightened at the sight of the steaming cup in her cup holder. "Is that for me?" she asked when I got settled behind the wheel. "That's for you," I replied, starting the engine and pulling off. "So who's taking care of Rocky? Since your family is coming to New York on Monday." "Well, my mom is going to come by and feed him every day until Monday," she replied. "Since my dad doesn't like cats and won't let me bring him over. Then she's just going to load him up with food on Monday before they leave. He’ll be okay for a day by myself." She leaned her head back against the headrest of her seat and smiled at me. "Why, you worried about him?" I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "No. Hell no. I just wanted to make sure you'd have your little buddy to come home to. That's all, Nutcracker." She laughed and sipped her beverage. "Sure. It's okay, Asher. You can love him." I grunted in reply, unable to wipe a smirk off my face. I made it to the interstate in due time and settled in. It would be about two and half hours to Buffalo. Jewel stretched in her seat and ran a hand through her thick dark hair, bringing it over one shoulder. I kept my eyes on the road but sensed from my peripheral vision that she was watching me. "You seem so focused," she commented, sipping her latte again. "Are you feeling pretty good about this? Nervous at all?" "Don’t get nervous," I replied. "I'm honestly looking forward to it being over." "Really?" she asked. "You don't enjoy it?" "I mean, I do," I said. "Because I'm good at fighting. It's what I do; it's how I

make my living. But the whole thing with these tournaments, the interviews, the press, the pictures, the televised fights—it just sort of makes it all seem so...fake and obnoxious. At the end of the day we're guys who just want to do our best, make our living, and get home." "Only one of you gets to make a living, though," Jewel pointed out. "Right?" "Well, only one of us gets the purse," I conceded. "Sometimes managers can work it out so that their fighter gets a percentage of the ticket sales." "Did yours?" I shook my head. "I don't do any of that," I replied. "I make enough from what I do day-to-day, and I'm considering some endorsement deals." "If you win the purse, what'll you do with it?" Jewel asked. I gave her a sidelong, playfully sly look. "Why? You planning to steal it from me or something?" "Trust me, sweet cheeks," she retorted, "I do not want your money." "What if I could make all your dreams come true?" I teased. "Then I'd be paying you back every red cent," she answered, giving me a stern look. "Enough about that. Answer the question." "Well," I mused. "I'll be giving some to my best friend’s wife and her children." There was a pause. "The Marine who had saved your life," Jewel said quietly. Jewel hadn’t asked me about the alleged affair. The one plastered all over the fucking media. The one that sent me into a rage last year, and nearly had me thrown out of Sparta for threatening to kill that bastard reporter, Marty Douchebag Jones, who started the fucking rumor in the first place. Asshole. “You’ve never asked me if what they said was true,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road ahead. There was another pause. “I don’t need to, Asher. I know if there was something between you two, you would have made an honest woman of her.” She smiled at me. “If you want to talk about it…you know I’m here for you too.” I sighed. I really didn't want to get into any of it, but my girl had given me so much of herself, that it was only right to do so in return. "I haven't…I haven't made peace with losing Gable. I didn’t deserve to be saved by him. He was a better man than me. He had kids, a wife…" I replied quietly. “Asher…” she said, her voice tender. “…You can’t think like that. He saved you because you’re a good person. Because he obviously saw something in you that you can’t see. Something I can see. I didn’t meet him, but I don’t think he would have wanted you to feel guilty for something he chose to do. And the way you look after his family, I’m sure he’s proud of you.” I swallowed when I felt warmth sink into my chest. There was a long pause before I spoke up. "I'm working on it.” I gave her a half-smile and cleared my

throat. "I've sent Bethany, his wife, enough so far to get trust funds started for the kids. Gable would’ve wanted them to go to college. I'm hoping I can win this purse and get the funds set up fully for them; give Beth something to live on comfortably. Then I guess I'll invest some of it. Maybe put some of it into the gym." "You’re a good man," Jewel said. I glanced at her, and removed my hand from where it rested on the gearshift and took her hand. We drove that way in silence for a while before I thought of something. "You still taking your meds?" I asked, then shook my head. "Sorry if that was random. I was just thinking about things." "It's okay," she said. "And no, I'm not taking them anymore. Although sometimes I want to. But I don't want to be a pill-popper. I don’t want to be a victim anymore." "What made you stop?" I asked. "I know you still have panic attacks and get anxiety still." "I do, but not nearly as much." She cleared her throat and glanced out the window. "Actually, you have a lot to do with that." I looked at her in surprise. "How’d you figure?" She bit her lip but I saw a dimple suddenly appear in her cheek. "I don't know," she hedged. "It's just…you've made me feel different. Like I can look people in the face again, that I don't have to be scared that I'm about to be raped and murdered every time I leave my house. You've made me comfortable with being me and...living." She met my eyes quickly, her cheeks rosier than usual. "I trust you. Do you know how nice it is to feel like I can trust another human being again?" "I'm glad," I replied quietly, sincerely. "I trust you too." She cleared her throat once more but looked at me, leaning her head back again. "It’s only been a year since it happened…but I've felt real happiness, Asher. It's because of you." I squeezed her hand. "I'm happy too," I said, still quiet. "I don't think I've ever really been happy. But I feel it now." She smiled. “I just hope you’re not using me for my charm and hot bod.” I smirked. She narrowed her eyes mischievously. “No. Just your hands.” “Not my lips then?” I grinned over at her, then tugged her closer for a kiss. Another comfortable silence befell us before Jewel spoke up again. "Do you have a song to walk out with? You didn’t have anything at Sparta, if I remember correctly," she said. I shrugged. "No," I answered. "I'm a no frills kinda guy. Just get in the ring, handle my business, and get on with life. It's already a stretch to get me to agree to

take pictures but, I signed an agreement. It didn't go over well at Sparta that I skipped all that shit." "I see," she replied. "A photo-shoot, huh?" She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Only if you take pictures of you in your ballet outfit. Any chance of a preview for that?" "Absolutely not," she replied, smiling. "You'll just have to wait on pins and needles." She meant the last part to be sarcastic, but I brought her hand to my lips. "I’ll do anything you ask of me, Nutcracker. Anything."

Her MY EYES WIDENED as I followed Asher into the lobby of the Hyatt-Regency Hotel in downtown Buffalo. Already there were crowds of people gathered, holding signs, cameras, pictures. Asher had pointed out a couple of the other fighters he'd recognized to me and they were signing autographs for enthusiastic MMA fans. Asher ignored their calls to him, and shouldering both my bags and his own, he walked straight to the check-in counter. The fans were a mixture of all kinds of people. But there were a lot of women. Lots and lots of women. Half-naked women. They weren't shy, either; much like the women at the gym, they were painted and dressed in tight, revealing clothing. They were beautiful, they were gilded and fake, and they were, apparently, horny. They tired desperately to get Asher’s attention by shouting, “Tornado!” and looked at me like I was dog crap on the bottom of their shoes. I felt, saw, and heard their laughter, their pointing, their whispers. Their eyes glided from my raggedy punk T-shirt, to my jeans, and then to my sneakers. They towered over me in their heels and their fashion-forward club-wear. "Is that his bitch?" "She's a mess. I hope not." "Maybe just his fuck-buddy for the weekend but she’s no threat to us." I heard this exchange among a few of the mavens standing nearby and stopped in my tracks, glowering openly at them. They simply stared back, one of them looking at me innocently, one of them ignoring me completely to call out to Asher again, and one of them laughing at me. "Jewel," Asher called over his shoulder. I turned and joined him at the counter. He looked down at me. "Ignore them," he instructed me quietly. "Okay? They’ve got nothing on you, Nutcracker." "Yeah, whatever," I mumbled, glaring over my shoulder again. "Mr. Prince, I have one suite and one deluxe room," the desk clerk was saying. "The reservations were arranged by Mr. Blaise Colton. I trust that your accommodations will be satisfactory for you." "How close are the rooms?" Asher asked. "I have both the suite and the deluxe room on the sixth floor, and they are one room apart." The clerk slid us our keys and smiled. "I can have someone bring your bags to your room, if you'd like to go refresh yourselves at the bar." "No, we've got it, thanks," Asher replied. He took the keys and shouldered the

bags again and headed for the elevator bank. I trailed behind, beside myself at the amount of fans that crowded in the lobby. When we were in the elevator I turned to him. "Aren't you going to sign autographs and stuff?" I asked. "You don't want to get a rep for being stuck up. A lot of them are here to see you." "I don't mind signing stuff for kids and the guys and families," he said, "but I don't like taking pictures with groupies. I wouldn't put my girl through that. They tend to get really...handsy." "Oh," I replied, frowning again. He laughed at me and leaned down to kiss my cheek. "You’re my girl, Jewel." "I’m fine," I muttered. Asher smirked. "Okay." He brought my bag into my room after I unlocked it and stepped inside. It was a nice room, spacious, trendy. The bed looked beyond comfortable and I had plenty of room. Asher placed my duffel on my bed and glanced at his watch. "I have to be at the Niagara Center in half an hour," he replied. "It's not too far. Do you want to come with me or stay here? It can get kinda long. I have to officially check in, take some pictures. It should go faster since I'm not doing interviews but Blaise is gonna handle that for me. By the time we're done, Bailey and Tess should be here." "That's fine," I replied. "I'll stay here. I didn't get a ton of sleep last night, and I'd like to wash the car ride off anyway. And if you let everybody know I'm here, I can meet them in the lobby." "You sure?" he asked. "Don't want to leave you alone. You'll get bored." "I'll be in my room," I reassured him. "I'll be fine." "All right," he said, then pulled me against his body to kiss me goodbye. As always, my skin buzzed at his touch, and the kiss went on longer than a normal goodbye would have. Finally I pushed at his chest gently, smiling up into his face. "Go," I said quietly. "Don't be late." He smoothed a hand over my head and brought his lips to mine once more before he backed out of the room and left. I sighed and kicked off my shoes and stripped off my jeans. I crawled into the immensely comfortable bed, making sure to set the alarm on my cell phone for a reasonable amount of time. It felt like only a moment later when my alarm went off at half-past-three. I felt around for my phone and silenced it, then groaned, yawning and stretching. I glanced at my phone again and saw I had a message from Asher letting me know he'd gotten in touch with Bailey. They would be arriving by five and Asher planned on returning shortly thereafter. As I gradually became more aware of my surroundings, I started to hear loud

noises from outside. I climbed out of bed and moved to the window, and was shocked to see a throng of people outside. They were being held back by several tall, burly security types, and a line of young men, buff and tattooed, dressed in trendy athletic wear, filed into the hotel. I assumed they were the other fighters for the tournament by the way they stopped and signed autographs and took pictures with fans. And not too much further away were several more groups of young, scantily-clad women, smiling and calling out to them. I tilted my head with interest as I watched the fighters respond. As I studied the girls, and the attention they were receiving, I wondered what Asher thought of them. He'd often referred to them as ‘groupies’ and had told me not to worry about them. I knew he cared about me so naturally he wouldn't want me to feel uncomfortable in any way. But he was also still a man, and what man wouldn't respond to tits and ass being shoved in his face every time he turned around? My hand dropped away from the curtain as I turned back into the room, deciding it was time for a shower. My mind turned to the issue of sex between us, or rather, the lack thereof. Asher certainly wasn't pressuring me. In fact, based on our last encounter, I felt like I was the one who pressured him. I was loosening up substantially regarding the idea of sex—sex with Asher, that is. The thought of sex in general still made my skin crawl a little, but when I fantasized it with Asher, I felt warm and my lower stomach and sex would spark and tighten up. As I showered, the three girls who had openly laughed at me that morning, plagued my mind. They were painted and primped, perfectly put together, and looked like glamour models in men's magazines. I shook my head, mostly at myself. And I’d thought it was a good idea to go trudging around after someone like Asher in a ripped '80s T-shirt, jeans and Converse sneakers... I made up my mind once I was out of the shower and staring hard at myself in the mirror. I’d have to put my entire unease aside. I needed to ‘man up’ as Ruby would put it. I was twenty-three, for God’s sake, and it was time to put my big girl panties on and show Asher just what he'd been missing, and why I was the top, and the only, candidate. I was rusty when it came sex, but I figured I’d be fine. I was a dancer, after all. I knew how to move my body in such a way that would please him, if not myself. As I rifled through my suitcase and removed a lacy thong, I decided. Tonight would be the night.

Him WHEN I PULLED up to the hotel on my arrival back from the arena, I was pissed to see the fanfare that was posted up outside the hotel. Most of the fighters were utter douchebags who were slicked and gelled, manicured, wearing rhinestone embellished V-neck shirts showing their chest hair. They were eating up the attention from the girls, and I knew if I walked through them, I’d probably be sexually assaulted. I drove around to the back of the hotel, near the garage where the valet kept the cars, and waited until I spotted a valet attendant. I waved him over, seeing the attendant's eyes widen in recognition. "Hey," the young man said, grinning. "The Tornado." "It's actually just Asher," I replied flatly. "Listen. I'm trying not to deal with that bullshit around front, man. Can you let me in through the valet entrance? I just want to go up to my room. Got my family here." "Sure," the attendant said, nodding vigorously. He pointed at my Charger. "You want me to take care of that?" "That'd be great," I answered, and let the attendant park the car. He reappeared to open the entrance door for me and I slipped him a nice tip before disappearing inside and using the service elevator to get to my floor, managing to bypass all of the bullshit outside completely. After a shower and a change of clothes, I felt like a new man after an irritating and exhausting afternoon of dealing with the shitty press, taking photos, and getting briefed on the weekend to come. I'd received some messages from Jewel letting me know my family had arrived and she was keeping them company in the hotel bar. Now, I was forced to enter the lobby again, noticing that there were a good number of people milling around. A lot of them were young women, more hangerson, and though they belonged to some of the other fighters, whom I ignored, they eye-fucked me openly. I scanned the room for my family, looking to find them, and get the hell out of there as fast as possible. The first thing I saw was Tess's blonde head, where she stood at the bar just in front of my brother. And then I saw Jewel and my eyes widened. I didn't know why I'd expected to still see her in her ripped up T-shirt and her Converse, but the first place my eyes went to was her rear end. It was set off to perfection in a pair of tight, ripped skinny jeans. Tucked into the jeans she wore a smoking-hot ribbed black tube top that hugged her trim stomach. There was a

leopard print scarf draped around her neck that was so fucking hot. As I got closer, my eyes slid to her feet, seeing them encased in high black heels. Her long dark hair had been coaxed into waves and tumbled down her back. I wanted to get my hands on her, drag her back to my hotel room, and fuck her till I couldn’t no more. Everyone glanced up as I approached, but my eyes were glued to Jewel. Her dimples suddenly dug into her cheeks as her brown eyes lit up at the sight of me. It filled me with that strange but pleasant feeling, one that made me feel like she always seemed to be so excited to see me. My hand went to circle her waist, bringing her close, letting every man here know that she was mine, and greeted my family. We stayed and drank for a while, talking and laughing quietly amongst ourselves. At one point I met Jewel’s eyes over the rim of her wine glass and felt blood rush through me at the look in them. They were dark with some kind of need, full of promise. Finally, Tess and Bailey were ready to call it a night, rising to their feet. Jewel and I bid them goodbye and watched as they headed to the elevators around the corner. I glanced at Jewel, licking my lips. "You ready, too?" I asked, trying hard to keep the note of eagerness out of my voice. "Haven't finished my wine yet," she replied, her voice slightly low. "Have a seat." I sat and watched as she drained the rest of her wine, her hand on my knee. My eyebrows shot up as I wondered what exactly had gotten into her. She couldn't be drunk; she'd had a total of three glasses of wine over the course of several hours. I didn't have long to think about anything, though, because as soon as she set her glass down, she was reaching for me, pulling my face toward hers, capturing my lips with hers, pushing and pulling and sweeping over my mouth with hers. She pulled away ever so slightly. "Take me upstairs," she whispered before she brought her mouth against me again. “Now.” I pulled back a little and looked into her eyes, feeling my own narrow. I scanned her face, knowing something was up with her. My desire to call her out on her bullshit warred with my desire for her. Silently I rose to my feet, taking her hand and pulling her up after me. I held onto her hand as we waited for the elevator. After an eternity, the light above the elevator lit up and the doors slid open slowly. I stepped inside, pulling her behind me. As soon as the doors slid shut, I decided to give into my own urges and also call her bluff. I quickly slammed her against the wall of the elevator and cupped her face in my hands, scooping up her lips with my own as I pushed my body against hers. I pulled the scarf away from her neck and tilted her face up to bury my lips in the

flesh of her throat as her hands grabbed at my waist. I returned to her mouth and sucked at her lips, feeling like I just couldn't get enough. When we reached the sixth floor, she led me out of the elevator, her scarf trailing in her hand. She pulled me past my room and headed down a little to hers. Then she pushed me against the door and captured my lips with hers again as she fumbled in her pocket for her key. Finally, I pulled away and gripped her face. I lowered my face to look into her eyes, feeling mine narrow with slight suspicion again. "Jewel, what's going on?" I asked, panting. "What's gotten into you?" She looked up at me innocently. "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about you acting all bold right now," I said bluntly. "And please, for the love of God, understand I'm not complaining but I don't think you give me enough credit for being able to tell when something isn't quite right." "It's a problem?" she asked impatiently, lifting an eyebrow. "It is if I feel like you're doing this to try to prove something." "Maybe I just want you," she growled in her throat, pulling herself up toward me again. "And if I believed that's all it was I never woulda opened my mouth in the first place," I rasped against her lips. "But we both know it's not just that, so what's up?" Jewel paused near my face and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she sighed and pulled away slightly. "All right," she conceded, a hint of irritation in her voice. "All right. First, just know that I do really want you. But I just...seeing all of those beautiful women out there who seem like they have it all together just made me wonder, why are you wasting your time with me? I work at a café and teach ballet at the Y. I'm more than a little fucked up in the head —" "Shut up," I said, gruffly. "You're not fucked up in the head. Stop saying that shit. As for all of those other women—Jewel, you're talking about women who validate themselves by climbing into bed with any guy they think can be a ticket out for them. Are you fucking serious right now? You call that having your shit together?" My hands moved to her shoulders and I gripped down, shaking them just a little. "I'm here with you because I want to be. Period. I don't want anyone else. I never want anyone else. You’re it for me, dammit." I shook my head. "Is that why you're trying to have sex with me now?" Jewel flushed and sighed, looking away. "Partly because I want to…And partly because I feel like if I don't, you'll get fed up with me and find someone who doesn't struggle so much with…that." "I only want you when you only want me, no other reason. I'll wait as long as it

takes," I replied simply. "Even if it’s when I turn seventy and I can’t even get it up. You copy? Even when fucking Viagra won’t work on it." The corners of her lips tugged into a tiny smile. No dimples, I noticed, but it was better than nothing. "So we done with this dumbass shit now?" I went on quietly, smiling a little to take the sting out of my words. One side of her mouth stretched a little wider, and I saw a shadow appear in her cheek. "Yes," she answered. “I’ll stop being a dumbass.” I smirked at her and slid a hand under her hair, gripping it lightly. I brought my lips to hers. "Just don't make me wait till it don’t work though," I teased. She rolled her eyes but pressed her lips against me, sucking gently at my bottom lip. I had just taken a firmer grip on her, to feast on her mouth more deeply, when I heard a voice. "Yo, Prince. Sorry to interrupt..." I glanced up, a growl of annoyance in my throat, and saw Blaise striding down the hall toward us. I didn’t fucking like the way he was looking at my girl. Eyeing her up and down. My manager was one of the best, but he didn’t have much respect for women. Chicks were born for sucking dicks and nothing else, is what he had said. That was all. "What you want, man?" I grunted, my hands gripping Jewel's waist as she tried to step away from me slightly. "I want you to go get some sleep," Blaise replied, folding his arms. "You got a big day tomorrow. C'mon. Keep your head in the game and not your dick in pussy, man." “Don’t fucking talk like that in front of her again,” I warned lowly. I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t like him talking that way in front of Jewel. And I knew what I was supposed to do as well as anyone. Blaise turned his slight smile on Jewel. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but our boy needs his rest. He’s got a lot of fights tomorrow." Jewel bit her lip, her face flushed from being caught. "Right…I got it." Blaise’s eyes lingered over Jewel until I growled at him. "Can I get a minute?" I snarled. Blaise rolled his eyes and gave me his back, pacing a few steps down. I knew Blaise would stay here all night to make sure I eventually went to my own room. I sighed and glanced down at Jewel. "Sorry about that asshole," I murmured. "He’ll stay out here all night if I don't —" Jewel half-smiled and placed a hand on my chest. "It's all right. Go. You need your rest." There was not much else to say, nothing that I wanted Blaise to hear me say, anyway, so I just looked at her and smiled, running a hand slowly through her hair. "Go," she said, more insistently. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the

morning." I leaned down to give her a final kiss, a goodnight kiss, and then pulled away. My body screamed in annoyance, but I knew I didn't have much of a choice. And, frankly, I did need the rest. "Sweet dreams," I said. She smiled and stepped inside her room, pausing to blow me a kiss before she shut the door. I turned and walked back toward my room. Blaise glanced over his shoulder, grinning. "I trust that you can keep your dick inside your pants tonight?" he asked, mock-sternly. Instantly, I felt my body fill with rage then. "Fuck you, Blaise." "I'll take that as a yes."

Her WHEN I WOKE up the next morning, my stomach was a jumble of nerves. I wasn't sure why but all morning I felt extremely anxious at the thought of going to the First Niagara Center for day one of the tournament. Asher had gone to the arena as he prepared for his first round of fights. He had knocked on my door that morning to let me know he was leaving. I had wanted to say something encouraging, give him words of wisdom, something really deep and profound for him to ruminate over while he prepared himself, but all I had managed was a lame, "Good luck." Now, later that afternoon, I was showered and dressed and in the lobby of the hotel, too nervous to eat a late lunch in the hotel's on-site restaurant. Tess was eating a chicken Caesar salad and fruit, and Bailey was enthusiastically attacking a giant bacon cheeseburger and fries. I sipped at a cup of tea and nibbled a little of the fruit salad that I'd ordered. "You seem nervous," Tess commented. "He'll be fine." I wanted to tell her it wasn't just the prospect of witnessing the fights. While I wasn't particularly enthused about Asher going to war with overly aggressive men, who wanted to bash his face in for money, I was confident that Asher could handle himself. I was more bothered that I didn't know what to expect or how I would react to it. "It'll be fine," Bailey was saying. "You understand these types of tournaments?" I shook my head. "Not really. Asher tried explaining it to me once but it sort of went over my head." Bailey went over everything, but it wasn’t anything that Asher hadn’t already said to me. My eyes had started to glaze over but I shook my head. "Right. Got it. Lots of fights." Bailey grinned at me. "Lots of fights, Asher wins all. That's all you need to worry about." Tess glanced at her watch. "We should probably start heading over. We don't know which card Asher's going to be put in and we don't want to miss anything." I nodded and reached for my purse, intending to pay for my mostly untouched lunch. Bailey stopped me with an outstretched hand and a wry look, shaking his head. He dropped some cash on the table for all of our meals and rose. "Thank you," I said, sincerely. Asher’s family always made me feel welcome. "I owe you a beer or something." I smiled at him. "Make it two," he replied. "Let's go, ladies." I noticed that Bailey drew almost as much attention as Asher had the day

before. Bailey used to be a big MMA star a few years back before an injury forced him to retire early. Occasionally people would call out to him or stop him for an autograph, which he graciously always acquiesced. I also noticed that the groupies eyed him flirtatiously. I sighed as I took them in; even at three in the afternoon, they were in tight, short cocktail dresses and five-inch heels. It had taken me awhile to decide what to wear, but I’d finally decided on fuchsia denim skinny jeans and a cropped white camisole. I'd been torn between flats and heels, and finally opted for silver snake-print peep-toe heels that would give me a little lift. At five-foot-four, I often easily got lost in the crowd. "Hey, gorgeous. If you want a good time just ask," a redhead slut called to Bailey as we passed. Tess just shook her head and laughed, but I stopped in my tracks. "Really?" I said, glaring down to where the redhead was seated with a couple of her skanky friends. "Do you not see him here with his wife? Really?" "And that makes you, what?" the redhead asked, smirking. "The baby-sitter?" "That's the bitch that was with our Asher Prince yesterday," another girl spoke up, giving me a pointed head-to-toe. "Glad you put the ratty T-shirt and dirty sneaks away, honey." "Hope you don't mind sharing," the third girl at the table spoke up. She was the prettiest of the three, and she smiled condescendingly at me. "'Cos I'm about to snatch that boy right from under you and fuck him like he needs." "Jewel, let's go," Tess interrupted loudly, noticing the way my eyes darkened with anger and my face began to flush. "You hoes have a nice day,” Tess said with a straight face. “Oh, and, try not to spread gonorrhea all over the arena, if you could, please." "Fuck you, bitch!" the third girl called after me as Tess dragged me away. "Ugh!" I growled as we caught up with Bailey. "How do you stand that?" Tess shrugged. "It was really hard at first. But you just get used to it. Honestly. Don’t let them get a rise out of you, Jewel." "Thanks for the third-grade lesson," I said. "Somehow I doubt that works with them. I think knocking their teeth down their throats would be more effective." Tess smiled and gave me a little squeeze. "Jealous, much?" I scoffed but didn't otherwise reply. “Jewel. Listen. Asher’s had a rough past and now that he's sort of 'famous' there's no shortage of attention. As long as I've known him, he's never dated anyone, not a single woman, because, I guess, he had trust issues. And I didn’t blame him. Those three sluts are a plenty, there’s a long line of them just waiting to—” “Is this supposed to make me feel better?” I said dryly, sighing. “—take advantage of him. His nice face and body, and dollar signs and fame.

What I’m trying to say is, hun, is that Asher’s never brought anyone to our home before, and I’ve never seen him quite the way he is with you. It’s plain to everyone that he’s only got eyes for you.” My blood began to stop boiling at her words, but I was still annoyed that I hadn't let those whores know precisely what I thought of them. But Tess was right. I was Asher's girlfriend. Something those groupie whores would never be. I smiled at the thought, and felt considerably calmer. “Thank you,” I said softly to Tess. "Ah, the groupies," Bailey said, sighing with mock-wistfulness until Tess punched him lightly in the bicep. "Those were the days." He laughed and ducked her next swing, then caught her arm and hauled her into his side, planting a loud kiss on her. "Just kidding, baby girl. You know you're the apple of my eye." "Apple of your eye?" Tess repeated wryly, unable to hide a smile. "No wonder you never get the girls, saying shit like that." I couldn't help laughing at them, trailing slightly behind as Bailey insisted on walking with both arms wrapped around Tess's waist. As we headed outside, a stretch Hummer limousine greeted us. "What the hell is that?" Tess asked. "Hey, you guys!" a loud voice called, and Blaise Colton leaned out of the opening door. "C'mon. Let's go see our boy get it in!" I eyed the extravagant vehicle before catching a look of annoyance on Bailey's face. I knew if Asher were here, he'd throw his hands up and insist on walking rather than ride in the over-the-top luxury transportation. Bailey seemed to be of a similar mindset. "Hotel shuttle would have sufficed just fine," Bailey called back, a slight edge in his voice. Blaise shrugged cheerfully. "This is how the big-time do it, bro. Get in!" Bailey sighed but pulled Tess after him, and I trudged after them. I let Blaise help me inside, ignoring the little smirk he gave me as he looked down my cleavage. "Sleep well?" Blaise asked me pointedly. "Not well enough," I shot back. He smiled and shrugged. "I don't make the rules," he said mildly. “Sure our boy will give you what you need soon, sweetheart.” The way he delivered his words made my skin crawl. I could feel my heart race a little then, and forced myself to breathe deeply. I needed to get away from Blaise as soon as possible. I didn’t like him. I didn’t trust him. "So how's he doing?" Bailey asked Blaise. "Good. You know how he is. The strong silent type. More like moody. Anyway.

He's doing fine." The ride to the Niagara Center was short and I thought the limo would stop in front, at the main entrance where floods of people were gathering, but it drove around to the back of the center. I started to relax a little; glad we seemed to be able to bypass any real crowds. My relief was short-lived and dismay filled me when I saw there was a horde of people at the back entrance. "Press entrance," Blaise informed us. "Well, press and groupie entrance. Security can't keep 'em away technically; they can only keep 'em back. Cock-suckers know this is the place to be since all the fighters come back this way." "Why are we allowed to come through here?" Tess asked. Blaise shrugged. "It's also the friends-and-family priority entrance," he replied. "You can get to the dressing rooms and the entrances to the floor for ring-side seating much easier this way." The limo pulled to a stop and Blaise reached for the door. He looked at me. "Brace yourself, baby." Bailey and Tess stepped out first. Then Blaise nodded for me to exit next, but when I did, I felt his hand on my buttock. I shot him a glare of anger, but before I could react further, I was overwhelmed with shouts for our attention. Bailey was instantly recognized and security stepped forward to help our little group pass the small but seething crowd. Then somehow, in a matter of seconds, I found myself separated from the group. Three reporters converged on me and shoved tape recorders and microphones in my face. "Who are you?" one of them shouted. "Are you with Blaise Colton?" "What?" I said. "No! He manages my boyf—" "Asher Prince," another reporter interrupted. "He manages Asher Prince. Are you Asher's guest?" "Something like that," I responded, trying to step away from them and rejoin my group. But I couldn't see them anymore. Only several tall security guards. "Are you his girlfriend?" the third reporter demanded. "Asher ‘The Tornado’ Prince has a girlfriend? What about Bethany Done? Asher bored already?" "Jewel!" I faintly heard Bailey call. I ducked away from the reporters and tried to push through the crowd. "Where the hell do you think you're going, bitch?" an angry female voice said. I glanced over my shoulder and saw another group of women. "If we can't get in, you damn sure can't!" "You that desperate for the dick?" another woman asked me, cackling. I glared at her and turned back around. I locked gazes with a guard. "Please," I begged, "I'm supposed to be in there." "That's what they all say," he replied. "Nice try, though. You might want to

come at me with a tight dress next time." "Keep moving, Mr. Colton!" I heard. I tried to peek around the security guard. "Blaise!" I shouted. Blaise glanced over at me, smirked, and then turned away. I watched in horror as he called out to a leggy blonde and trotted after her. "Blaise!" I screamed again. "Oh, now she actin' like she know folks," another groupie said, and several voices laughed at me. I felt a confusing mixture of rage and anxiety start to build in me. Now I was feeling hands pushing at my back, shoving me against the security guard, who was turning to glare down at me. Did they not see me get out of the limo with everyone? Why wouldn't they let me through? "I'm with them!" I insisted, pointing vaguely in the direction Blaise, Bailey and Tess had gone. "They're probably still there, waiting for me. Can you please check?" "We had security move them along," the guard replied. "Sorry, miss. We can't allow you back there." "I drove here with them!" I said angrily. "I didn't see you before," he said skeptically. "I'm here with Asher Prince," I said, hating having to resort to using his name. "He's fighting in the tournament." "Yeah, I know who Prince is," the guard said, rolling his eyes. "All these cockchasers out here are for him. I never heard nothin' about him havin' a guest." "I am," I pleaded. "I came with his brother and his brother's wife. And his manager! Just let me through, please." "How you know him?" the guard said, folding his arms and looking at me in disbelief. "You can't be no girlfriend. I never got your name." "Just ask Blaise," I said, growing more agitated as the swell of jeering voices behind me rose. "He was supposed to put me on some list or something!" "Well, Blaise Colton is long gone now," the guard said. "We took Bailey Prince and his wife that way. Colton went the other way." He gestured into the arena over his shoulder. I clapped a hand to my forehead, trying to calm myself before I had a panic attack. How the hell had things gone to shit in the matter of seconds? Someone had to have seen me get out of the limo. Why was no one speaking up? Suddenly, I lost my footing and almost fell over when a foot sharply kicked my heel out from under me. I tottered violently until the guard grabbed my arm. "Get your ass back there where you belong, you dumb bitch!" one of the women shouted at me. I lurched forward as I was suddenly pelted with an extremely hard object. A

frozen water bottle was hurled violently into my back at short range before crashing to the hard ground. I was shocked at both the gesture and the immediate pain it caused against my tender flesh. I felt like I'd just been hit with a baseball. I whirled around to see who had thrown it, intent on slapping them to the ground, when the guard grabbed my arm and pulled me away. "Hey, knock that shit off!" the guard bellowed at the women. "Try that shit again, I'll have your loose pussies locked up! Then ain't none of y'all gettin' cock tonight!" My chest was heaving with rage when the guard turned back to me. "Listen, I don't believe your story for one second, but are you all right?" "Just call Blaise Colton!" I shouted, jerking my arm free. "Call Asher. I'm telling you, I'm with them! This is bullshit!" "I've got Colton on his cell now," another security guard with an earpiece said with a sigh. "Hold on." He listened for a moment. "He's coming down now with Prince." Relief washed through me, but it was short-lived as the women nearby just screamed at me more. I felt shaky and angry; I couldn't believe I was dealing with this. If this was any indication as to how the rest of the tournament was going to be, it wasn't off to a good start. "I don't know who this bitch thinks she is," one of the women called. "Bringing her ass to the front of the line like she’s running shit." "She ain't shit," another woman said with a laugh. "Bring your ass back over here, honey," a third voice called out. "I got somethin' way worse than a bottle of water for you." "Shut the fuck up!" the security guard bellowed at them. "Every last one o' you. You're fuckin' lucky I can't call the cops over here to arrest your asses. Someone say something else. I will mace all of you, right now, just for fucking pissing me off!" "Jewel!" I heard his voice and turned quickly. Asher stood just behind the barricade, dressed in his tournament shorts and a ribbed tank top. He looked furious. He looked like he wanted to tear apart everyone in sight. I hurried toward him, ignoring the rise in noise as both the groupies and the reporters immediately started shouting to him, demanding to know who I was and if I was his girlfriend. Every sound was threatening to crack my nerves, but I focused on his angry face and rushed toward him. "Prince, this yours?" a guard asked, catching me by the shoulder just before I reached Asher. The guard pressed me back. "Yeah. Now get your fucking hand off her before I start the tournament here

with you," Asher snarled, reaching out to take me by the elbow. The guard quickly complied, lifting his hand immediately, and stepped back. Stepped way back. Before I could figure out how to navigate the hip-high barricade in my tight jeans and heels, I suddenly felt my breath whoosh out of my lungs in surprise, and vertigo assaulted me. Asher had grabbed me around the waist and bodily picked me up, swinging me over the barricade like I weighed nothing more than a feather. My feet had hardly touched the ground before he immediately swept me away down a long concrete corridor. Blaise trailed behind us, Asher's rage palpable to everyone. Asher was silent, but the way his hand locked around my waist, and his tightly clenched jaw, it let me knew he was beyond infuriated. I winced a little as his hand pressed down unknowingly on my developing bruise from the water bottle. He looked down at me, seeing it, and his eyes narrowed. I swallowed, feeling a little intimidated. He turned me around a corner sharply and I almost tripped again, but he swept me along, holding onto me firmly until he came to a long hallway lined with doors. He stopped in front of one with a sheet of paper taped to it that bore his name and turned the handle. He pushed the door open and I saw that it was a small dressing room. He ushered me inside and stepped in after me. I had enough time to register that Tess and Bailey were in the room, all looking agitated and worried. Their faces relaxed when they saw me, but I turned to look at Asher, who was anything but relaxed. His brow was creased with fury and his jaw was still tightly clenched as he turned around, holding the door. Blaise tried to step in after him, but Asher smacked the door in Blaise’s face before blocking the door. "C'mon, man," Blaise said in a wheedling tone. "It was an accident." Asher opened his mouth and snapped it shut, glaring. He finally spoke. "You had one fucking job," he gritted out, his voice deadly low. "One. You were supposed to look out for my family." "Mistake, man," Blaise went on. "We lost her in the crowd, I thought she was with Bailey and Tess, I didn't—" "You didn't give a fuck!" Asher roared. "You left her to deal with those fucking assholes so you could go chase some ass for tonight. You know what could’ve happened?" "Asher, look, I'm sorry," Blaise said. "I—we're cool, right?" "She gets the best of the best, right?" Asher asked, his voice quiet and dangerous. "Asher—" "You're fired," Asher bit off. "Get the fuck out of here." He slammed the door in Blaise's face and resumed pacing.

"Jewel, are you okay?" Tess asked. "We tried to come back for you but the guards kept moving us this way. We just got here and told Asher immediately that you were left behind." "Blaise wasn't even looking for you!" Asher thundered. “Asher, calm down, man,” Bailey said. "When I got out to the entrance he was just coming back from the other way, talking to some chick," Asher snarled, ignoring his brother. He shook his head and glanced at me. "You good?" His breaths were coming out heavy. "I-I'm okay," I said, not wanting to say otherwise. My nerves were rattled and my blood pressure was up. My back ached with the onset of a bad bruise from having the water bottle thrown right at me at close range. But none of that would help Asher calm down and focus on the fight, so I forced a smile for him. He didn't return it, and instead, his eyes narrowed. "Asher, you sure that was smart?" Bailey asked. "He's a good manager." "Fuck Blaise," Asher snapped. "I asked him to do one thing—one thing! Which was—take care of my family. If he can't do that then he doesn't have my best interests at heart, so fuck him." Bailey nodded, studying his brother before he glanced at me. "You okay, Jewel?" "Yep," I said brightly. "Just fine. All's well that ends well." Asher was openly glowering at me now, so I shifted uncomfortably. "All right. See, Asher? She’s good. She’s fine. Why don't you two go take your seats,” Bailey said, addressing Tess and me. “Get a drink or something and I'll work on our prize fighter here—" "I want to talk to Jewel alone," Asher said evenly. "You guys wait outside." Once we were alone, Asher shut the door behind them and turned back to me. I foolishly felt like I was in trouble for something. "What happened?" he asked. "Which...part?" I asked hesitantly. "All of it. How’d you get separated from them?" "I was following Blaise and got separated in the crowd. Then these reporters surrounded me and it took a second to get away from them. By the time I made it through the crowd to the front, I'd lost everyone. Then the guards treated me like I was just another groupie, and then the groupies were trying to start shit with me..." I trailed off and shook my head, taking a deep breath. "But it's okay. Right? You came and got me." "Anyone touch you?" he asked gruffly. "I mean, the girls pushed me around a little. I wasn't trying to get in a fight and make you look bad, though."

"Pushed you around?" I could see the veins along his arms start to throb with anger. "No big deal," I repeated. "The only thing I regret is not breaking all of their noses." "Why did you act like I hurt you earlier?" I blinked. "Huh?" "When I had my hand on you. You flinched." "Oh..." I said. "Don't worry about it." "Don't worry about what?" he gritted out. I sighed. "It's just a little sore back there." "Sore why?" he growled lowly. I sighed again. I hadn't wanted to tell him, but I could sense he was running out of patience. I shrugged. "Some girl right behind me threw a water bottle into my back. It was mostly full, and frozen, and I was close range." He reached out and closed a hand around the waistband of my jeans and pulled me forward, spinning me around. "Let me see." My midriff was mostly exposed in my cropped tank top, and it was easy for Asher to find. "Jesus." "What?" I asked, trying to twist around to see it myself. I flinched again when he lightly brushed his fingers over the area. Even the slight touch made the very sore, tender skin cry out in pain. I bit hard on my lip, and he didn't miss it. He frowned at me, then maneuvered me over to the mirror on the wall. He spun me around slightly. I gasped, shocked to see the area was already swollen and red, turning dark purple in some areas. I cleared my throat and met his eyes in the mirror. I laughed weakly. "I bruise like a peach," I said. "This is not as bad as it looks." "Oh, really?" Asher grunted, and brushed his fingers over the area again, a little more firmly than before, but still not remotely hard. I yelped in pain and jumped, instinctively trying to pull away from his touch. He moved his hand away from the bruise and replaced it on my waist, tugging me closer. “Come here,” he barked. He glanced into my eyes then shook his head and sighed. "I promised you that you’d be safe with me, I promised your father you'd be okay. We haven't even started the tournament yet and already you've gotten into some shit." I brought my hands to his shoulders and shook them gently. "Asher, it's fine. No big deal, just some mean, hateful girls who are jealous." I smiled up at him as he glanced down at me. "Most of them were out there to see you, I think. It really burned their butter when you came to get me." My smile widened. He lifted an eyebrow. "'Burned their butter'?" he repeated. "Where’re you from?"

I laughed and leaned in to lightly kiss his lips. "Listen, I'm sending your brother back in here. I'm going to go grab a brew and sit with Tess. Okay? I'm ready to see some ass-kicking." He shook his head and grunted a laugh at me. "A brew and some ass-kicking. All right then." He tightened his hands around my waist and pulled me closer so he could get a real kiss. "Get out of here. I'll talk to you later." I sent Bailey back in, and followed Tess through the seeming maze of concrete hallways through the arena. Since we were guests of one of the fighters, we were able to take seats close to the ring. I noticed it was really more of a circular, tall black wire mesh cage. We had just seated ourselves when a press reporter ambled over to us, wearing a ‘Press’ pass on a lanyard around his neck and holding a smartphone. His eyes were glued to me as he leaned over. And who is this?" he asked, reaching for my hand. "Lovely lady." I wasn't sure if I should answer. I remembered him from outside, the one who had asked me if I were Asher’s girlfriend. I was instinctively suspicious of the man but didn't want to seem paranoid. I shook his hand tentatively. "I'm Jewel Mucc—" I started to say, until Tess leaned over abruptly and wrapped a hand around my wrist, tugging it out of the man's hand gently. "She’s with us," Tess said curtly. “Now piss off, Marty White.” The reporter lifted his eyebrows at Tess and looked amused. "Okay, then. Well, mystery lady. It was nice to meet you. Tess. Nice to see you again. You guys have a good one." He gave me a long look before he finally turned and walked away. "What's his deal?" I asked Tess. Tess shook her head in annoyance. "That's Marty White. Don't talk to him. He's a vulture. He was the one who leaked out the rumor about Asher having a dirty affair with Bethany Done. You know, his best friend’s wife. That whole ordeal nearly destroyed Asher. I’d never seen him so angry in my life. He was nearly banned from fighting...Marty White just goes after whatever he can and doesn't give a shit about any of the lives he destroys." I nodded, looking thoughtfully after Marty White. I had a strong feeling I needed to watch out for him. THE TOURNAMENT WAS several fights in, and I was exhilarated. I had no idea I'd come to enjoy watching MMA fights as much as I was right now. I was working on my third pint of the cheap arena beer; I suspected that might have something to do with it. I wasn't sure when Asher was supposed to be fighting, but there had been five fights so far. The Press box, where the two commentators had set up shop, was just in front

of us. I could hear everything they were saying and I had to roll my eyes occasionally. All they did was argue amongst themselves about their opinions on the fighters. Suddenly the lights dimmed again and some heavy metal song started playing as the announcer began to call forth one of the next fighters. I listened hard but I couldn't make out his name. A punk-looking solid young man began dancing down the aisles. He had a Mohawk and his arms were each covered in a sleeve of tattoos. He seemed to be incredibly amped up as he slapped hands with fans on his trek toward the cage. The lights dimmed a little again and this time, I was able to hear the name that was being called because there was no music playing. My stomach clenched in excitement as I heard, "Asher ‘The Tornado’ Prince!" I strained to catch sight of Asher. I finally saw him, wearing a black sweatshirt, the deep hood pulled low over his head as he made his way to the ring. Fans, male and female, screamed, and sudden movements caught my eye as signs bearing his name, some with hearts, rose into the air. But he acknowledged none of it, solely focused on getting into the ring and ‘getting to work,’ as he liked to say. He was close enough to see clearly now, perhaps twenty feet away from our seats. He quickly stripped off his sweatshirt and handed it to Bailey, who trailed behind him. I held my breath as he entered the ring, and allowed myself a moment to admire his smooth skin and his taut muscles. He shoved his mouth guard in and focused intently on his opponent. When the match began, he held back, waiting to see what his opponent would do. The young man flew at him with a series of lightning-fast kicks and punches. Asher deflected and sidestepped his blows, not concerned, not worried, just focused in that intent manner. This continued on for a few more moments. I knew Asher was studying the young man, getting a feel for his style, before he ended it ‘Tornado’ style. The young man launched another kick, toward Asher's head. Asher lashed out with an arm, winding it around the man's leg and pulling it in tight to his side. He blocked a flailing, startled punch from the other man before sending his fist directly into the middle of the man's face. His opponent's head flew back and he crumpled to the mat, sliding out of Asher's grasp. "That's how it's done!" I heard Bailey shout, pumping his fists in the air. "That's right!" I cheered loudly, drawing the attention of one of the commentators seated in the box in front of me. It wasn't the first time they'd studied me. They always smiled, always waved, or gave me some polite acknowledgment. As Asher made his way across the ring, I heard them. "Seated directly behind

us, Bryan, is the family of Asher Prince," one of the commentators was saying. "We've got his brother, the infamous Bailey ‘Crusher’ Prince, helping him out, but there’s a very lovely young lady who up until now, has been a bit of a mystery. I guess Asher Prince is done with the dead Marine’s wife and has moved on to better and much younger things." I heard Tess gasp, and my head snapped up. Even Asher paused near the door of the cage, fixing the two unaware commentators with a murderous glare. "We have rumors that the young woman is Asher Prince's girlfriend who had a run-in with some fans and security earlier today; we're told she was struck with a weapon in the back before The Tornado came to her rescue.” I didn’t think it could get any worse then. But it did. Beyond my wildest fears. “And just a little bit ago we received confirmation that her name is Juliet Mucciarone from Pittsburgh. Originally from New York, we now have confirmation that she was the victim involved in one of the most heinous rapes and attempted murders of the past year. She was the victim of serial killer Jackson James and we have reports that she will be testifying at his trial this coming week, as she remains his only living victim." I felt the blood drain from my face as a strange, lightheaded sensation came over me. My heart stuttered and jerked oddly as I felt seemingly every pair of eyes turned in my direction. But I only cared about one pair of eyes. My eyes dully sought Asher's, and I had never seen such a look of rage on his face before. I'd thought this morning was the maddest I'd ever seen him; he'd seemed almost happy then, by comparison now. Everything unfolded in what seemed like slow motion. Asher burst out of the cage and sprinted toward the booth. Bailey leapt forward and caught Asher’s arm. Tess was screaming out, and I suddenly couldn't handle anyone else looking at me, pointing, whispering. I was torn, wanting to go to Asher. But his brother and two security guards were restraining him, trying to stop him from getting any closer to the booth and killing the two commentators. But three big men weren’t enough apparently, and another security guard, a much bigger one, had to help hold Asher back, too. The two commentators had jumped to their feet and backed up, and one of them turned to look at me. The look on his face enraged me. He didn't look apologetic. He looked amused. The half-full cup of beer fell from my hand as I whirled. I found myself staring into the eyes of a tall man and his friend behind him. Both were smirking at me.

Their mouths were opened. They were talking at me. Jeering at me. Making fun of my pain. I tried to shove between them, get away from them, get out of the arena before anxiety overwhelmed me. One of the men, stinking with alcohol, grabbed my arm and tried to hold me back, press me between them. Tremendous fury rose up in me, and remembering everything Asher had taught me, my fists moved of their own accord. I punched the one who touched me in his nose, feeling the bone crunch underneath my small knuckles. The force of my blow made his head snap back and he went toppling backward, knocking over chairs and people. I heard cries of dismay, but I swung on the other man, whose hand had risen to claim my other arm. I shoved my knee hard into his crotch, burying my kneecap deep in his groin. And as the air audibly whooshed out of him, I flung an elbow into his face to send him sprawling back in the other direction. I became aware of my name being screamed by someone, but I raced out of the arena into the hallways. I pulled off my heels and ran, fast, down the concrete corridors until I reached the back entrance I'd arrived at. I just kept running. Never looking back.

Chapter Twenty Him “ASHER,” SHE SAID quietly. Jewel stepped back to let me in her hotel room, then shut and locked the door behind me. “You okay?” I asked. She looked down at her feet. “Jewel. Tell me.” “I’m okay…” I breathed in and out and tried to keep myself from punching the wall behind her head. I was going to kill those motherfuckers who’d revealed Jewel’s identity. I didn't know what the hell I had done to deserve this woman tearing my world apart. I’d just risked everything—everything! All the training, all the blood, sweat and tears, it didn’t matter in the end. I had just given up a two mill purse, for Christ’s sake. For my little Nutcracker. I didn’t regret a second of it. I only regretted not saving her. “Stop lying. I know you’re not,” I rumbled. “Don’t tell me what I’m feeling,” she rasped. I stared down at her and she was leaning against the wall, hand on hip, her dark eyes somehow managing to blaze heat when their very color belied any warmth. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were set in a thin, hard line. She was about five-feet nothing, but at that moment, she looked much taller, her anger and passion lending height to her small frame. I swallowed hard. She was dressed in a pink cropped T-shirt that showed her smooth abdomen. She wore a pair of short white boxer shorts and her long dark hair hung over one shoulder in a loose, messy braid. “You should be angry with me. You have every right to be.” “I’m not angry with you,” she murmured. As I looked at her lips, her eyes dropped so I couldn't read her expression and she ran her tongue lightly over her bottom lip, then bit down. “You risked everything for me, Asher. You risked the tournament…for me.” She moved her eyes back up to me, all that white heat suddenly gone and replaced suddenly by something else. Something that was going to make me lose control. “I’d do anything to protect you—anything.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t care about any of them out there,” she continued, taking my hand and leading me to the bed. “I don’t care. I

only care about you, Asher. You are my whole world. I want you. I want all of you. Be with me tonight.” “Jewel,” I said lowly. “No, Asher. Don’t. Don’t fight me on this. I need to be with you. You said once that I no longer needed to be afraid, now that I got you. Show me. Because I am afraid.” She slowly reached a hand out toward me. “You are the only one who can fix me.” She took hold of the zipper on my navy blue sweatshirt. My eyebrows shot up and I looked down, watching as her hand slowly pulled the zipper down along its track, until she reached the bottom. With a little tug and flick of her wrist, the zipper opened and the jacket fell around either side of my waist. I looked at her again and she was staring. My brow creased slightly. "Jewel," I said quietly. "What’re you doing?" Based on the trauma she'd experienced earlier, I didn't want her feeling like she needed to prove anything to me again. In reply she slowly reached out again, this time with both hands and leaned across my chest to pull one side of my jacket down my arm and then the other. I caught her hand and tugged her closer. "What’re you doing?" I rasped. "You don't—" "Shush," she said finally. I blinked. "Shush?" She suddenly leaned in, her face centimeters from me, her warm breath brushing my lips. "I said, sshh," she whispered. "Okay?" I scanned her face, suddenly finding it hard to look away from her lips, and slowly nodded. She leaned back and began pulling my arms out of the sleeves of my sweatshirt. When my arms were free, she pulled the sweatshirt from underneath me and tossed it onto the floor before she turned to look at me again. I jumped slightly when her hands moved to the bottom hem of my white ribbed tank top and pulled it upward. I let her pull it up over my abdomen and helped her to pull it over my head. Her eyes raked down me for a long time while she sat motionless. I had just started to grow slightly uncomfortable under her scrutiny when she whispered, "You're beautiful." I wasn't sure how to respond to it but whatever lame words I'd pulled forth from the recesses of my brain died in my mouth when her hands reached out slowly again and rested lightly on my pecs. My skin jumped at her touch as warmth flooded my body and blood surged to the sensitive area at the apex of my groin. Her small, soft hands pressed into my chest and then ran down the length of my abdomen, the tips of her fingers digging in ever so slightly. Her fingers traced the ridges of my stomach, following every curve of muscle, every outlined rib.

Her fingers then moved higher to my chest and arms and she traced my tattoos. Her fingers skimmed my skin and it was so relaxing, I could have closed my eyes and gone to sleep. I grew alert again when her hands dropped away and she met my eyes. "Asher," she whispered. She faltered and bit her lip. "What?" I whispered back. "Do you want...to see me?" Her fingers played at the hem of her cropped Tshirt. I swallowed hard. "Jewel," I said again. "You don't have to—" "Do you want to see me?" I searched her eyes for some semblance of her not knowing what she was doing but saw only want and calm in them. So I nodded slowly and swallowed. She took the hem of her shirt between her fingertips and pulled it slowly upward over her head and tossed it aside. She lowered her arms and watched my eyes move helplessly all over her. She pushed backward slowly until she moved off the bed and brought her hands to the waistband of her little boxer shorts on her hips. My eyes widened slightly as she leaned forward and began to inch them off her hips until they slid down her legs. The overprotective part of my brain made me feel like I should tell her to stop, to put her clothes back on, but I couldn't seem to find the words. She was beautiful. Her breasts were perky and round, generous for her frame, but not too big, just perfectly proportioned. Her waist narrowed before bowing out into the slender, beautiful curves of her hips. Her thighs, both slender and thick at the same time, defined with muscle, called out for my hands and my mouth. In addition to her white lacy bra, she wore a matching mesh thong. As she leaned forward to crawl onto the bed, I almost lost it when I saw the way the lingerie disappeared between the rounded, high mounds of soft flesh of her backside. I sucked in my breath when she crawled over me and swung a leg over my hips until she straddled me. I balled my fists into the comforter as she tilted her head and undid her braid, letting her long thick mane flow free. She met my eyes. "What do you think?" she whispered. My eyes raked down her involuntarily. "I think you're fucking beautiful," I replied. "Do you want to see more?" she asked almost shyly, her voice hushed. The urge to protest hit my tongue again, borne only out of worry for her, that she didn't know what she was doing, but died on my tongue at the look in her eyes. I nodded again. She slid a hand to her shoulder and slowly pulled one bra strap down and she

used her other hand to hold the cup of the bra to her breast as she maneuvered her arm out of the strap. She moved to the other arm and repeated the action. She covered her breasts with a forearm and slowly pulled the garment off herself. "Do you want to touch me now?" she whispered. Wordlessly, I nodded. Jewel slowly moved her arms away from her chest and I sucked in another breath as I saw her breasts for the first time. They were supple, teardrop shaped, and her nipples were tantalizingly erect and pink, practically begging for my mouth. She reached down and took my hand and slowly brought it to her breast. My hand closed gently around it and I swiped my thumb lightly over her nipple, clenching my jaw at the feeling of her soft flesh and the taut little peak that seemed to grow harder under my touch. I felt my cock growing and tightening inside my pants and Jewel had seated herself directly over me, and I could feel her hot pussy through the thin fabric of my sweatpants. She sucked in a soft, audible breath when she felt my cock move right against her. She covered my hand with her own again, over her breast and squeezed my hand to entice me to squeeze. Unclenching my other fist from the comforter to run my hand down her smooth back, my fingers trailed down the indentation of her spine, until I grazed the soft flesh of her backside. Her other hand met me there and squeezed around it as well. "You won't break me," she whispered, a slight smile tugging her lips. She leaned close to my face but stopped short of actually kissing me. Her forehead was against me and her lips brushed mine. I felt her breath come in light little pants as my hands roamed and squeezed her body. When both of my hands cupped her breasts at the same time, she sighed and I watched as she bit her lip. I decided I wanted to try something to both gauge her reaction and satiate my own desire so I pushed her back gently by the shoulders and glanced up into her face, seeing her eyes dark with what I hoped was arousal. I pressed one hand into her back and brought my face to her breasts and licked at one of her nipples before drawing it into my mouth. Her flesh was sweet as it always was; her skin smooth and supple and my mouth devoured her. She gasped at the initial sensation of my tongue swirling around her sensitive little peak, and she let out a short, soft moan when I suckled at her nipple. I pulled away slowly and looked up at her before repeating the action with her other breast. Her hands grappled at my shoulders and I felt the sweet bite of her nails as they dug into my flesh, letting me know wordlessly how much she liked it. I reached up to tilt her head down and stretched my neck slightly to take her mouth in the way we both loved. She was eager with her lips and tongue. I usually

made it a point to keep our kisses slow, but as the heat of my growing arousal sharpened, my need for her to the point of desperation, I couldn't slow the movements of my own mouth, too eager to devour as much of her as I could get. "Asher," she panted when she pulled her head back. She gripped my face to make me look at her. "You can have me however you want me." The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I didn't want to ruin the moment by asking if she was sure. But I’d promised Jewel she would be safe with me, that I’d protect her. Always. Even from me. I would rather die than hurt my girl. My hesitation must have been plain on my face because she leaned in again and kissed me tenderly. "I'm sure," she whispered, a reply to my unasked question. "I want you to have me. I trust you with my heart." At her words, I held her tight as I maneuvered myself to my knees and flipped her onto her back. Surprise filled her eyes as she wasn't expecting the sudden move, but she gazed up at me, her beautiful tits moving quickly with her increased breaths. She watched with wide eyes as I pulled off my sweatpants and shucked my socks, leaving me in only my boxer briefs. I loomed over her and thought about how very small she looked underneath me, and how big I must look to her hovering over her. I leaned down to take her lips in mine as I thrust my steel-hard cock right up against her, grinding into her, right between her legs, and she squealed into my mouth, clutching at me, and digging her nails into my shoulders again. Her knees drew up to her ribs before wrapping around my waist to hold me tight against her. We stayed like that for a long time, mouths fused together as I ground my increasing hardness into her hot pussy. Finally, I gently broke the hold of her legs and pulled my mouth away. She was panting hard and I reached for the waistband of her thong and pulled it over her hips, down her legs. I pulled them apart again at the ankle and kissed my way upward, alternating between each leg, until I settled myself between her thighs. She knew what was coming but her breath hitched with anticipation anyway and she watched me with wide dark eyes. I kissed and suckled at the insides of each thigh, licking the crease of joint where her thighs connected to her pelvis, making her jump, until finally my tongue brushed lightly over her pussy and she moaned aloud. I paused, breathing on the moisture I'd just made, giving her a moment to collect herself, and then I lapped against her, scooping her pussy into my mouth like I was eating the sweetest of all fruits. She squealed and moaned as my tongue moved all over her pussy, into it, taking mouthfuls of her wet, twitching flesh like it was my last meal.

I'd enjoyed her taste previously, but tonight it was slightly different. It was richer, sweeter. It was heady and intoxicating. And though I enjoyed slowly teasing her orgasms out of her, her taste was too sweet, too delicious for me to curb my greediness as my mouth took her, over and over. I snapped back to the present and realized she had been building an intense orgasm, and judging by the way her hard little clit was growing harder, and swelling up against my tongue, it was about to burst out of her at any moment. And then it did, literally, a gush of her sweet fluid rushed out of her and into my mouth, tasting like the heavy syrup from a can of peaches. She keened out a hoarse, shaky moan, her hips bucking. I held them in place as I lapped up all of her sweet syrup from her velvety folds, the insides of her thighs, making sure not one drop went to waste as her body convulsed through the aftershocks. When I'd gotten it all, I moved back up her body to hover my mouth over hers and she tilted her head up to meet me. I immediately pushed in my tongue, deep in her mouth, the way it had been buried deep in her dripping wet pussy only a few moments earlier. My cock strained, and I felt like I was harder than I'd ever been in my entire life. It ached a little and I knew I couldn't wait much longer. As though she read my mind, I felt her toes wedge into the waistband of my boxer briefs and maneuver them down over my hips until I could shake them the rest of the way, off my legs. I reached down to touch her and felt like I might come just from knowing, from feeling, how amazingly wet she was now. I took myself in hand and slid my tip along her wet folds, pushing ever so slightly here and there to find the sweetest of the sweet spots that would yield to me, to let me push through and settle into her even sweeter depths. I felt her entire body tense and looked into her eyes, immediately stopping my movements, although I twitched against her slippery pussy. "Jewel," I murmured, seeing her eyes were squeezed shut tightly. "Don't do that. Open your eyes and look at me." She did, and met my gaze. "It's me," I whispered and leaned down to kiss her. Her lips accepted the kiss but didn't move with me. "You're with me. Just kiss me." I moved my lips insistently over hers until she began to return my kisses and the passion built up between us again. "You okay?" I asked between kisses. "Yeah," she whispered back. "Please, Asher. Now." Her whisper was laced with need, with want, so I took hold of myself again and found the sweetest point of entry, and lined myself up to it. I parted her lips with my tongue before sliding it down deep into her mouth, to find the prize of her tongue and twist and pull at it slowly with me. At the same time, I coated my tip in her moisture and moved into

her slowly. I was generously sized with a slight curve, and she was incredibly tight; all of those things required as gentle and slow an entry as possible. I maneuvered my first couple of inches into her and felt her entire body begin to tense up again. "Asher," she breathed, doubt flowing out of her now. "Relax," I whispered into her neck, and after taking a deep breath, she did, and I pushed forward a few more inches. Her wetness gushed deliciously around me and I felt her ultra-tight walls stretch to let me in and then immediately close around me, fitting me like a glove. I looked into her heavily lidded eyes and pushed my last few inches the rest of the way into her and she gasped. I scanned her face with my eyes to make sure she wasn't in any pain. Her eyes flew open wide and then slowly fluttered shut as her teeth sank into her bottom lip. I nuzzled the pulse in her neck. "Talk to me," I murmured. "You okay?" "Just…hold on a second," she whispered back. It was quite possibly the most difficult request she'd ever made, as every inch of my skin was burning with the desire, the need, to begin thrusting my hips into her. But I took a deep, silent breath through my nose and waited for her to acclimate herself to the feeling of me inside her. I looked into her face again and saw her eyes were shut tightly. I was about to ask her if she wanted me to stop altogether, when suddenly, I felt one of her legs entangle around the back of my thigh and her other leg slide up against my waist. Then I felt a small but powerful forward thrust of her hips below me, and I bit back a grunt of pleasure at the feeling of her wet, tight walls sliding over me. It was unmistakably permission to go ahead. I slid one hand into her hair, the other arm bearing my weight as I leaned over her. I took her mouth with mine again as I started to move, slowly rolling my hips into hers. I didn't push deeply into her and didn't withdraw completely, waiting for her to let me know what she wanted and what she liked. She gasped softly into my mouth and I used all of my self-control and willpower to pace myself. I could have released the moment I entered her fully, her walls felt that fucking amazing around me. But this, as everything had been, was about Jewel. I would make damn sure that her first time, being fully intimate with me, was nothing short of phenomenal for her. It was not lost on me that not only was this her first time having sex since her attack...I was the first man she'd been with since. I wanted and needed to show her, remind her, what sex with someone she trusted and cared about, and who trusted and cared about her, could feel like. Her mouth had fallen away from me slightly as she became consumed with the feeling of me moving inside her. I was still carefully controlling the movements of

my hips, trying to think of other things besides how gorgeous she looked below me, how satiny smooth her skin felt, how fucking tight she was, when I felt her hands move from my sides to my back and run down the length of it, stopping until she had a hand on each cheek. I felt her nails dig in, and the sensation of the tiny sparks of pain in such a sensitive area gave me a jolt, and did nothing to help my cause to last as long as I could. I clenched my jaw, biting back another groan, only to give up on muffling them as another one erupted from my throat when I felt her hands pressing against my ass. Deeper. I decided to stop double-checking her every request and just obey, so I thrust into her, hissing lightly when I felt my tip slide past my previous boundary into even warmer, wetter territory. Her palms pressed insistently against me, and she whispered something, so softly, I almost didn't hear it. Almost didn't…but I did. "Yes." I wanted to curse, I wanted to sink my teeth into her neck, but I restrained myself, focusing on the slow, deep thrusts she seemed to be enjoying. I lifted my head and looked down at her. It was a fucking bad idea. I had looked into the face of a woman riding a high wave of arousal and pleasure, and it almost undid me. I lowered my face to her neck quickly, but the image of her heavy-lidded eyes, narrowed to slits from the surges of pleasure she was feeling, her full, plump, pouty lips parted to let her sighs and pin-drop soft moans escape unhindered, her cheeks flushed and her dark hair fluffed around her like a silken, wavy halo, was seared into my brain like it had been put there with a branding iron. I felt my scrotum jerk as my testes tightened up, preparing for their imminent release. Don't fucking do it, I warned myself, squeezing my eyes shut and forcing my breathing to regulate. Do not fucking do it. "Asher," she whispered, and I cringed. Hearing my name uttered while she was in such a state of arousal was not helping me out. I lifted my head again and used the hand in her hair to tilt her head toward me so I could take her mouth and silence any other unbearably sexy utterances slipping between her lips. After a few moments, she pulled her mouth away slightly to whisper again. "Harder," she breathed against my lips. Oh, fuck. I clenched my jaw again as my hips moved of their own accord, as if they heard the request too and were only too happy to obey. She was going to kill me. But I was determined not to come until she reached hers, even if I died in the process. But if she kept making these types of requests, I couldn't guarantee I

would survive to see the end result. I lowered my mouth to her tit as I moved, my tongue slipping out to tease the erect, pink nipple, making her gasp sharply and tangle the fingers of one hand in my hair. I drew it into my mouth, trying to focus solely on that and not the way her walls kept clamping down around me, and how she only seemed to be getting wetter and wetter. I teethed her nipple lightly, smiling when she squealed, moaning when she began lifting her hips off the bed to meet each of my hard thrusts. I pulled away from her breast, moving back up toward her mouth. I meant to tell her she couldn't do that, that this would be over too soon, but the sight of her opened mouth, her lips so plump and moist and inviting, made me forget about what I wanted to say, and instead of using my lips and tongue to talk to her, I used them to taste her mouth. The simultaneous feeling of her tongue sliding and twisting against me, while her hips thrust back against me, deepening the penetration that much more, made me realize that I was fighting a losing battle against myself. The warm heat that had been coiling in my pelvis started pulling tighter and tighter. I felt as though every damn drop of blood in my body had gone to set up shop inside my member. I was going to come. Come real fucking hard, sooner than I had wanted. But I had lost all control. She made my cock feel fucking fantastic. I removed my hand from her hair and slipped it down between our bodies, between her legs, and began to stroke her with my fingers in the way I knew all too well that she liked. Her eyes flew open and she looked at me, letting another of those soft moans pass her lips as her body responded to the new set of sensations I was giving her. Her head tilted back into the pillow as her breathing increased. I licked my tongue along the line of her throat, glancing down and seeing her abdominal muscles contract. My lips set up camp in the hollow of her throat as I stroked her, and not too much longer after that, I felt her clit start to harden and swell against my fingertip. My hips never stopped moving, although hers had thankfully settled back onto the bed, stilling at the first touch of my fingers. Suddenly her breaths sped up, building on top of each of other, and her moans joined them, building in volume and length. They began as soft little pants, and by the time a real, throaty moan erupted from her throat, her whole body seized. Her legs tightened around me and a soft string of unintelligible curses fell from her lips. It was, hands down, the most erotic thing I'd ever seen, and although I knew I shouldn't be watching her as it ratcheted up my own need to come, I couldn't look away. "Ash!" she breathed rapturously, finally opening her eyes and staring up at me. My teeth sank into my lower lip as I met her gaze, silently begging my body to

give me just a little bit longer. Her hands slid down my back to my hips and she took hold of them firmly. "Faster," she ordered in a whisper, and I actually groaned, not only from pleasure, but also because that was the final request I dreaded her making. Deep, hard, and fast—this would be over before either one of us knew it. "Jewel," I finally managed, my voice deep and rough with lust, "if I do—this is gonna be over too fa—" "I want it," she whispered back. "I'm so close. Give it to me." Ah, fuck. I let her hands guide my hips so I could see just how she liked it. When I reached a specific mixture of speed, depth, and force, she moaned and I felt her legs pull away from me and saw, amazed, that her knees were pulled back, her thighs spread wide, toes in the air, and pointed from years of dance discipline. My eyes followed the line of her leg from hip to toe and it was too much of a turn on. I lowered my face to her neck again, burying it in the soft curve where jaw melded into throat, and drove us both home. My hips moved with lightning-sharp thrusts, my tip sliding past a soft, spongy little mass over and over on its way to meet and re-meet her tunnel. And just when I realized I had about five to seven good thrusts left before my body checked out, something fucking amazing happened. Her walls shuddered violently and clamped down tight around me, tighter than they had been the entire time I'd been inside her. I felt her skin heat up against me, felt her heart pound through her rib cage, her pulse throb in her neck, felt her nipples become hard and prominent against my chest, and felt her pelvis pulsate and contract rapidly below me. I felt her jaw press into the side of my face as her mouth fell open, and lifted my head in time to watch her eyes snap open wide, like they always did when she was about to come. As her orgasm barreled into her, a strangled, raspy groan vibrated out of her throat and her eyes squeezed shut. Her entire warm little body convulsed below and against me, as tremors of pleasure coursed through her. Internally, I felt her walls and pelvic muscles flutter tightly, rapidly around my near-exploding cock. And before hers was even over, my climax was slamming into me like a freight train. This time, I did bite her. I couldn't help it, my deep grunt of extreme, body-shaking, soul-rattling, intense pleasure, muffled against her flesh. My body slowed its movements, although my hips kept thrusting, shallowly, gently, as my seed drained from my body and into hers, and I felt her walls twitch with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her hands were stroking over my back and her

eyes were shut tight. "You good?" I managed, exhaustion and satisfaction like I'd never known before settling deep into my bones. "I'm....so good," she whispered back, a soft smile curving her lips. Watching it, I suddenly felt like I knew the secret of the Mona Lisa. I started to withdraw from her, but her hands pressed against my back. "Don't...not yet." I lowered my face to hers and slowly kissed her swollen lips, feeling her tongue slip forth to find me. We kissed slowly and deeply for several long moments until I actually felt the stirrings of arousal ghost through my lower belly again. After a moment, I withdrew from her and lay on my back, enjoying the feeling of the cool sheets against my hot skin. Jewel rolled onto her side to face me and I turned my head toward hers, the hand closest to her reaching out to play in her hair. Her eyes searched my face and her lips parted to speak, but as before, she couldn't seem to find words. Instead, she bit at her lower lip then smiled widely at me, her eyes lowering. I always got a kick out of the fact that she could never seem to meet my eyes after we were intimate, but also couldn't keep the telltale smile off her face that let me know she was, undoubtedly and decidedly, satisfied. I let a half-smile tug at one corner of my mouth before I reached out to take her chin between my fingers and brought my mouth to hers. "Come here," I murmured and rolled her onto her other side so she was facing away from me. I arranged the sheet around her and then pulled her tight against my chest. I dropped my lips onto the side of her neck as she sighed contentedly and snuggled into my embrace. I stroked whatever skin of hers I could touch as I listened to her breathing. I wedged a leg in between hers to pull her closer still and buried my mouth and nose in her hair, closing my eyes and letting my body relax fully for the first time in as long as I could remember. “I don’t feel so afraid anymore,” she whispered. “You’re my girl,” I whispered back. “I’m your girl.”

Chapter Twenty-One Her “JEWEL,” HE MUMBLED. "What's going on? Where’re you going?" "Just need to go to the bathroom," I whispered back, leaning over to kiss his temple. "Be right back." He grunted in reply and his hand relaxed, allowing me to slip away. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand as my bare feet hit the carpet. It was 4:00 AM. I was naked, so I plucked his sweatshirt from the floor and wrapped it around myself, zipping it up. I padded into the bathroom, the tile cold against the bottoms of my feet. I shut the door and the silence in the room was too much to handle, so I flicked on the water for noise. I splashed cold water on my face and leaned against the counter to examine myself in the mirror. The sensitive flesh between my legs throbbed dully with soreness, the muscles there not used to stretching or conforming around something the way they had last night. It reminded me of the pain I'd felt days after my attack, a terrible pain that, even after it left my body physically, still ghosted through me for weeks, months, afterward. I fought back the memories clawing their way to the surface of my mind, trying to focus on the pleasures of last night. I thought of warm, gentle but rough hands on my body. Full, sweet lips against mine, and the waves of pleasure—beautiful, amazing pleasure—that coursed through me nonstop for the better part of an hour. I had climaxed three times, each one better than the last, and it had been because of Asher Prince. I thought about his mouth on my flesh, the magical things he'd done with his tongue, and the delicious feeling of being filled to the brim with him. His length and his thickness had filled me as no one had ever done before, gliding inside me, tapping some sort of hidden well, deep within. I'd never known my body was capable of becoming that aroused, that excited, that consumed with bliss. I felt a little smile tug at the corners of my lips that were still a little swollen, and my sex tingled and twitched. He might have just created a monster. A sensual, hungry, aching, insatiable little monster. I let out a shaky, involuntary sigh and opened my eyes, surprised to see myself touching one hand to my lips, while the other had fallen between my thighs. My

eyes were bright and my cheeks were suddenly flushed. Yesterday had been a day from Hell. Between the violence I'd suffered at the hands of the women at the gate, to my terrible secret being revealed to everyone— my mental state had been fragile and damaged. Once I'd made it back to my hotel room, I'd literally hidden under the covers and sobbed uncontrollably, my body wracking as I had screamed my anger and anguish into the pillows. I wanted to call someone—my family. I had even reached for the phone. But I drew my hand back as reason took over. There was no need to alarm my parents. I knew that if I called them in this state, it would only panic them. I wanted to call Ruby, but I felt that all I'd been doing lately was unburdening myself on my best friend. So, instead, I'd wrapped myself in the comforter and texted the only man who could take away the demons in my head. And he did. Sex with Asher had set my body on fire, had made me feel alive. He'd taken my mind completely off the horror, forcing me to concentrate only on him, and our bodies, and our pleasure. Everything else had been blocked out of my mind during our time together. All I could focus on was Asher. But now...my thoughts were coming back to the situation at hand. I was humiliated yesterday, but now rage was beginning to stir in my gut. How had they found out about me? Who had told? Who could do something so heartless and cruel? All these painful thoughts pinched at my brain, made my stomach tense. Bailey had rung Asher last night. His brother had somehow persuaded the judges to let Asher back into the fight. So I'd promised Asher that I'd be there for him throughout the whole tournament, and I wanted to prove that to him. I wanted to prove that no matter what happened, I would always be there to support him the way he did me. But as the thought of what that would entail—walking back into an arena full of people after being labeled a rape victim—came over me, and I instantly regretted my promise. I would go through with it, I had to, but I wished I had listened to Asher when he’d told me he thought it might be too much. I thought back to the reporter that had tried to speak to me. Marty White. He'd been slippery, slimy, and altogether sneaky. Then there was Blaise Colton. Aside from touching my backside, and leaving me behind in the crowd, I hadn't missed the look of cold anger on his face when Asher fired him. But Asher did that for me. He had risked the tournament for me. He had risked everything…for me. I shuddered as a wave of anxiety went over me. I couldn't help feeling

responsible for this nasty turn of events. I knew that was silly, that I hadn't done anything directly. But if hadn’t disguised myself as a man and gone to his gym, Asher would never have gotten mixed up with me, and none of this would ever have happened. A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and I quickly turned the water off and went to open the door. Asher stood there, his sweatpants tugged on haphazardly, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. "You okay?" he asked, his voice deep with sleep. "You been in here awhile." "I'm...okay," I replied, deciding it was the only word I could use. Thinking about the situation surrounding us had dampened my mood considerably. But the sight of him, shirtless, in a pair of low-slung sweatpants, and nothing else, was distracting me and making me feel horny again. I licked my lips. "You feel...all right?" he asked, folding his arms. "You're not in any pain or anything? Did I hurt you?" I smiled and reached out, unable to stop myself from touching his impressive eight-pack. "Not, like, in a bad way." He looked mystified, his eyes following the movement of my hand as it stroked along his tight, firm skin. I didn't miss the slight jerking movement just under the fabric of his pants. It didn’t take much to get Asher hard for me. "Is there a good way to be in pain?" he asked. I looked up at him as I allowed my fingers to brush ever so lightly over the front of his sweatpants. His large member was swelled and ready for me the way I craved, my sex instantly wet for him. I pushed him backward out of the bathroom, turning off the light. "There is definitely a way to be in pain in a good way," I whispered, and reached up to unzip the sweatshirt from around my body, letting it fall to the floor around my feet. His tongue swept out over his lip, his eyes moving over my naked body. I gave him another push and he sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands reaching for my hips and sliding up my sides. "Let me show you."

Him “WHAT IS IT?” I asked Bailey quietly. My brother sighed and motioned for me to come closer. "I…went to go look for Blaise this morning." A surge of anger hit me like a bolt of lightning. I looked over at Jewel who was standing a few feet away, still talking with Tess. We were outside the hotel patio. "You did what?" I hissed, struggling to keep my voice low so Jewel wouldn’t overhear us. "The fuck, Bailey?" He held up a hand. "Look, get mad at me if you want to, I was just being a big brother. None of that sat well with me yesterday. Asher, Blaise worked with Marty to leak the story to the commentators. He said he gave Marty Jewel’s name, and Marty did the rest." I shook my head and grimaced. "I’m going to fucking kill him. Marty White has been after me since I told him to go eat shit when he tried to interview me at Sparta. He fucking destroyed Bethany when that shit storm—he created—came out." Bailey nodded. "Yeah, I remember. And Marty’s also got a huge part in this too. Don’t know what can be done legally yet, but I promise, I won't let him get away with this." He paused awkwardly. "Er…there's more." I frowned at him. "Blaise fired you and he spoke to his lawyer to get your business partnership dissolved. Says you signed a contract allowing him to retain the rights of the business, should you leave for any reason." Bailey reached out and gripped my shoulder. "Asher— you're out of a job, man. I'm sorry." I sighed heavily and shook my head. I rubbed the scruff of beard, raking my index finger back and forth over my bottom lip. I shrugged. "Probably for the best. He was always a dirty bastard anyway." I glanced up at Bailey and a self-mocking smile tugged at my mouth. "Guess I'll have to come off my high horse and do those fucking endorsement deals after all." "The mighty have fallen," Bailey teased back. Our faces both grew serious then. "Asher, you'll be okay, though," he added reassuringly. "You've got options, you've got savings. You're fine." "I'll be fine, yeah," I said. I shrugged again. "I'm just thinking about Bethany and the kids." "I’ll pitch in whatever’s needed," Bailey said firmly. "Seriously." I shook my head. "No, man," I said firmly. "They're my responsibility. Not yours. I'll figure something out." I shook my head again and looked off. "Fucking

bastard, Colton. Son of a bitch." "You!" The loud gruff shout pierced the stillness on the patio and my head snapped around in its direction. "Fucking hell," I muttered under my breath. "Dad?" Jewel called at the same time, sounding shocked. "Baby, you okay?" her father demanded, cupping her face in his hands before glaring angrily at me. "You!" I stepped forward toward him. "Sir—" "Don't 'sir' me!" Jewel's father bellowed back. "Don't give me any of that shit! I told you—keep my daughter safe from this bullshit and what happens…? I get the news that her identity’s been shared with the general fuckin' public two days before she testifies. How in the fuck does that happen?" "Sir, I take the blame," I said quietly. "I should’ve—" "You should’ve, but you didn't!" Mr. Mucciarone pulled Jewel toward him by her arm, her eyes going wide. "Dad, what—" "You're coming with me and your mother. NOW," he shouted. "I'm not leaving you with this man for one more second." "What happened yesterday was a mistake," my brother interjected, lifting both of his hands. "Asher had nothing to do with that. It was a journalist who's had it out for him since day one—" Mr. Mucciarone seemed to notice Bailey for the first time. "I don't care what business he has with journalists. I do care when my little girl gets caught in the crosshairs!" He pulled Jewel along as she protested, completely confused and upset. "Don't you ever come around my daughter again!” he yelled at me. “Not in New York and damn sure not in Pittsburgh. You're done!" "Dad, I want him there!" Jewel cried. "You can't do this!" "Baby, this is for your own good," her father said roughly. "I-I…I couldn’t keep you safe back then…” My heart sunk into my stomach then. He was referring to Jewel’s attack. “You're my little girl and I couldn't protect you…But I refuse to allow any more bad happen to you—" His voice choked, and for a moment he said nothing, just blinking rapidly into his daughter's face. I felt a sudden surge of empathy for the man. I stood silently; knowing that to say anything else, would be to say too much. I couldn’t do anything other than watch him take Jewel away from me. "Let's go,” her father said finally. “Get your things. We're leaving for the city right now.” He tugged Jewel toward the glass doors of the hotel. But she shrugged herself from his grip, and ran toward me, wrapping her arms around my torso, tightly. Tears were streaming down her face.

“I-I don’t want to leave you,” she said, her words crumbling. I looked over her shoulder and stared at Mr. Mucciarone who stood only a few feet away. His eyes were angry, but they were also pleading with me. I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. He was right. She needed to go with her father. I swallowed, knowing how hard my next words would be. Pulling away slightly, I looked into her beautiful glassy brown eyes. “I won’t be the man who rips you away from your family, Jewel. I won’t be that man. Go with your father.” “You’re…just letting me go? Just like that?” The look she gave me then, cut me deep in my core. “No, baby. I’m not giving up on you, okay—I’ll never give up on you. You’re my girl. You know that. But this isn’t the time to fight.” I’d seen how her family, her father, was her rock, her backbone, since the attack. I needed to keep the peace, for her sake. “You’re all that matters, Jewel. I don’t want you to be afraid —just focus on the trial, you hear me? I’ll fix this.” Jewel's eyes filled with tears as she looked up at me. Her mouth opened to speak but she didn't say anything. We shared a long look before I nodded silently at her, telling her to go. Jewel uttered a choked sob and let her father pull her back into the hotel, the glass patio door shutting behind them. I would fight for her, even if it meant giving up everything.

Chapter Twenty-Two Him I SAT IN my dressing room back at the First Niagara Center. I was laying on the floor with my legs against the wall. It was my favorite way to stretch, to relax, to focus on what was coming. It helped me calm my thoughts and get into the mindset I needed to be in to be successful. The problem was, none of that was happening now. My thoughts were swirling and I felt anything but relaxed or at peace. I hated the fact that Jewel had left. I hated the fact that I'd disappointed her father, and I really hated the fact that to some extent, I agreed with the things that had been said about me. Much like I'd told Blaise, I'd had one job, and that was to make sure my girl was taken care of. I had fucking failed. I had failed… Tess and Bailey seemed to be able to sense my mood and wisely left me alone. My brother would come in soon to wrap up my hands. Beyond that, I wanted to be left alone. I decided I would open my own gym, and Blaise Colton could go suck dick. I was the one who made that gym what it was. I could do it all over again, but this time, have full ownership. And I’d make damn sure to drag Connor and Leon’s ass with me. They had no fucking choice in the matter. There was a knock on the door, and I figured it was probably my brother. With a sigh, I rolled off the floor and went to the door. I pulled it open and when Bailey walked into the room, I could smell shit immediately. Trailing behind him were the Douchebag Duo commentators. I felt the same fury I'd felt the day before stirring in my gut as I went for them. “Don’t. Asher,” my brother warned in a calm voice, pushing me back. “These two fucks are here to apologize. Don’t hurt them, yeah?” I feinted a pounce on the one close to me, and he looked like he just shitted his pants. "L-Look," Jeff Goldstein began nervously, "I came to apologize. I was given that information about your girlfriend and we meant no harm." "That's fucking hilarious," I said icily. "Honestly," Bryan Reid chimed in. "Marty White was supposed to give us the scoop on your sex life. He was prepaid by the Network for that interview. So when he didn't get that, he got something else." I stared at him levelly. "And fuck whoever he hurts in the process, right?"

Bryan sighed and shook his head. "No, of course not," he said. "Look, is she around? We'll make an apology to her." "She's gone now," I hissed. "So save your bullshit for after I’m done with you. That is, if you can still use that mouth of yours." "Listen, man, listen. We were just passing on information," Jeff said in a way that made me want to break his neck. "People saw you two together, people saw you come get her and carry her from the crowd. People are curious. And everyone knows about the Jackson James case. No one knew she was the victim, though." "Yeah," I said darkly. "This little thing called protecting a victim's identity. Way to fuck that up." "Look, we came down to talk to you and apologize," Jeff went on. "To let you know we meant no malice, we just gave the information we were given. Period." "And where’s the apology, dumbass?" I shot back. "To me, this all sounds like a bunch of fucking excuses from a bunch of pussies. Get the hell out of my face, and if you ever report on anything regarding my personal life ever again, I will hunt you down and fuck you up. Both of you. When there won't be anyone to hold me back. You get me?" Jeff looked at me levelly. "You need to check that temper, Prince," he warned. "That's gonna get you in deep shit one day." "Wanna make it today?" I asked bluntly. I clenched my fists at my sides. "Asher," Bailey said warningly. "Get out of here," I said again, my voice quietly dangerous. Douchebag Duo swallowed, nodded, and then turned and left. "Let me guess," I went on, glaring at their retreating backs but addressing my brother. "Boss told them to come down and apologize or they'd lose their fucking jobs." "Something like that," Bailey said wryly. "Asher, you have to stop threatening people and calm the fuck down." "I don't give a shit," I countered. "They're fucking with my life. And as far as Marty goes..." "That scumbag is nowhere to be found," Bailey said. "I looked. He’s always at these things but he must know he fucked up because he’s not here. I even asked some of the fighters if they'd seen him and none of them have." My brother shook his head in confusion. "How did he get that information about her in the first place?" I shrugged. "He’s a piece of shit reporter," I said. "He’s got contacts, and it's not like he’s got any morals. I'm sure a few bills here and there to someone at the courthouse could get him whatever information he needed. Or he ran her name through some kind of database." I shook my head. "It was never about her anyway. He just did it to fuck with me. He probably was hoping for some big skeletons in

her closet, something that could embarrass me if he shared it. Probably felt like he hit pay dirt with what he did find." I bit my words off with disgust. Screw the commentators. Marty White was a lowlife piece of shit. He was what I really wanted to get my hands on. "Sorry about Jewel and her dad," Bailey said. "I know how much you wanted her here." My guts twisted but I shrugged it off. "It's fine," I said evenly. "Her family needed her. She went." I turned my back on my brother, hoping he’d take the hint and quit talking about Jewel. I knew I couldn't afford to think of anything but the fight, with three bouts ahead of me, but I couldn't stop. It felt like the bottom of my fucking world had broken apart, without her. THE DAY ONLY got worse from there. The Douchebag Duo was now on a mission to berate my performance as much as possible. They apparently thought I was deaf. I was struggling against my first opponent of the day. The kid was wily, strong and fast, and I’d underestimated him. He was putting up one hell of a fight, and now in the fifth round, without the TKO that I was infamous for, I was growing increasingly more pissed off. "Well, The Tornado certainly isn't living up to his name today, huh, Jeff?" Douchebag Number One called out behind me. It took every ounce of self-control I had, not to jump over the edge of the cage and strangle him. "Maybe it had something to do with the quick departure of his girlfriend early this morning." "I did notice she is not in attendance today," Douchebag Number Two agreed. "Some fighters just can't handle having their significant others here with them at things like this." Are you fucking shitting me?! The sudden surge of anger proved to be just what I needed to put the amateur down. I blocked the flurry of punches from the kid, shoved him back, and leapt out of the way of a sweep kick. Feinting to the left, I brought my knee to the kid's face before jumping onto his back and putting him in a chokehold, until finally, he tapped out. "Finally!" Douchebag Number Two called sarcastically. "That's fifteen minutes of my life I'll never get back." "You know, you come to expect a certain standard of performance from a pro fighter," Douchebag Number One agreed. "And when he falls short, well...it's just boring." I whirled around and glared down at them, heaving breaths. They both looked back up at me, their faces wearing a mixture of slight fear and defiance. After a

long, hard moment, I stalked out of the ring, out of the arena, and back to my dressing room. I refused to allow anyone to enter or speak to me, until it was time for my next bout. I didn't have to wait long. My next card was called sooner than I'd anticipated. I was facing off with Clay Bronx, one of the two most prolific fighters there, other than me. I needed to be at the very peak of my game. I couldn't be distracted by Jewel or pay attention to those asshole commentators. I wanted to knock Clay out as soon as possible, but the man proved to be quite a challenge. He was a little faster than me. But I was stronger. The first three rounds between us were brutal; we both shed blood, we both were getting lumped up, and both were trying to go for the knock out punch that would end this dance. We were fighting for high stakes. Winner would progress to the final round. I refused to get knocked out. It had never happened, and it would never happen as long as I still drew my goddamn breath. Finally, in the fourth round, when my back was pressed against the mesh wiring of the cage, I tucked my chin and ducked a lightning-fast left jab from Clay even faster, and as Clay's fist connected with the wiring, I shot up with a brutal knifesharp uppercut. Clay's head snapped back, his eyes rolling, and blood gushed out from his mouth. At least one tooth flew out before he stumbled backward and finally toppled over on his back. "A knock out!" I heard one of the Douchebags shouting from behind me. "Praise Jesus!" "Not exactly a one-hit Tornado," the other taunted, "but it'll do. Asher Prince advances to the championship round and one step closer to that two-million dollar purse." "And there he goes, storming out of the cage as he always does," the first taunted as I slammed the door open and ran down the steps. "Can't be bothered to stay and appreciate the fact that he has dedicated fans." I snapped my head over and found them both looking at me. Their smirks quickly turned upside down when I pointed my finger at them and then slowly slid my finger across my neck. I hustled off to my dressing room, wishing the Douchebag Duo would get in that cage with me for just five minutes. FINAL ROUND. Logan ‘The Punisher’ Cavasso. Logan reminded me a lot of myself. He seemed to be quiet, keeping to himself, avoiding the reporters and the fans. He also chose not to have any walk-out music. We were both silently focused the second we went eyes-on with each other.

We studied each other across the ring intently. There was no real animosity, no anger, no misdirected violence. We both knew we were there to do a job, to get paid, and to leave it at that. Nothing more, nothing less. That made Logan my most challenging opponent yet. Five five-minute rounds, with a minute break between each round. The next thirty minutes wouldn't define my future, but with my recent decisions, they damn sure would have a heavy impact. Thirty minutes until I found out which direction my life would take, unless I could get in a knock out. But I knew from the hours I'd spent intently studying Logan that it wasn't going to be easy. Logan, much like me, had never been knocked out. The bell was rung, and we went to war. After the first couple of rounds I knew Logan was the last one standing with me for a reason. After ten minutes, I was already tired, and I could tell Logan was flagging too. We were equally matched in strength, speed and skill. I heard the shouts of the audience, heard the voices of the commentators, but I blocked out the details of what was being said. I couldn’t focus on it, was unable to focus on anything but the fighter in front of me. Logan was like my mirror; we punched the same way, we predicted each other's moves accurately. It was turning into an exhaustive stalemate as we struggled to land punches and kicks and block others. I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs when Logan caught me with a surprising, punishing body shot to the lung, the instant before the bell rang. Two rounds left. I stumbled backward, my back hitting the cage, and I felt Bailey grab my ankle and shake. "Wake up, little brother!" Bailey yelled. He tended to the little cut erupted over my right eyebrow, and squirted water in my mouth. "Be smart! This guy is like you. Now you gotta be three steps ahead of him. You can do this! Now, go!" The bell rang again for round four, and I moved into the ring. This round went better. Logan's energy was depleting a bit more quickly than my own, and I used it to my advantage. Though I still wasn't able to get a knock out or a tap-out, I was able to land a great number of my punches and kicks, and gradually more bruises marked Logan's body, his nose bloodied, and I gave him a cut over his brow to match my own. "That's it!" Bailey shouted, as I sat in my corner after a round ended. "That's it! He’s getting tired, Asher—pay attention to that. You notice how he’s favoring that left side?" Breathlessly, I nodded. "Use that shit to your advantage," Bailey went on. "That last punch you threw in

his kidney—that one humbled him. He keeps grabbing at his side. But you need to concentrate on those feet of his—he’s fast as shit. Can you do that? You need to get him off his feet and get that tap-out. You're not gonna knock him out, that's clear— it ain't gonna happen. You need to get him to the ground and make him tap-out. Get him off his feet. You hear me, little brother?" I nodded again, and the bell rang. "Round five!" Bailey was shouting as I got to my feet. "Play time is over, Asher. Bring this shit home!" Keeping a rough score of the rounds, I assumed it would be a rough tie. The last round had worked well for me, but the first three rounds were mostly in Logan's favor. That was too close for comfort for me. I couldn't not win. I couldn't. I had a dragon to slay, and so I re-entered the battle. The round was playing out almost like the last one had. Logan was hurting, real bad. His side, where he’d taken a brutal body shot, was giving him fits. His arm would unconsciously go to clutch at it when his fists weren't guarding his face. I hated to play dirty, but I knew a few more body shots would put Logan down for good. I caught my last wind, and went on full attack-mode, launching a flurry of kicks and punches against my opponent. Logan caught me with a couple of surprises. A sharp left-hook to my ear left me hearing ringing. A hard roundhouse kick to my ribs sent me reeling; if they weren't outright broken, they were cracked. I knew that much as I doubled over, assailed by white-hot sharp pain. "Get up, Asher!" Bailey yelled. "Get up and put him down! End this!" When I launched myself back into the fight and flew at Logan, this was the moment I lived up to my name. The Tornado. I rained blows on Logan, punching his body in places I knew would hurt, throwing an elbow into the back of his head, kicking his knees out from under him. I was the tornado in a raging storm that no man could survive. When Logan was on his knees, I lashed out with a stiff sharp jab, and chopped down hard on his shoulder. I broke Logan’s nose before he toppled over. The bell rang. It was done. "Asher!" Bailey shouted, moving around the ring to my side. "Asher, you okay?" "Good," I gasped out. "Great." "Just hang on," Bailey said. He got into the ring and hauled me to my feet, dragging me to the corner to minister my injuries. "Ribs," I croaked. "Broke or cracked." "Tough little son-of-a-bitch," Bailey said, pressing a Q-tip dipped in alcohol to

the cut above my brow. "But you got this in the bag, Asher. I'm proud of you. You are a fucking beast," Bailey said admiringly. "A fucking beast." He ruffled my hair affectionately. Several moments passed as the judges tallied up our points to score the fight. I felt confident. Felt that ultimately I was in the lead. Maybe not by a huge margin, but I led. It came down to simple mathematics where the scoring was concerned, and I waited for my name to be called. It wasn't out of cockiness, it wasn't out of arrogance. It was what it was. So I was utterly dismayed and shocked when I heard the name of Logan ‘The Punisher’ Cavasso being hailed the winner and Champion of the first annual Ithaca tournament, taking home every dime of the two-million dollar purse. Logan's people rushed into the ring, screaming ecstatically as the entire arena erupted into noise. Logan himself looked completely dumbfounded, his eyes flying to me. I was stunned. "No way!" Bailey was shouting angrily. "No way! I counted the points! No fucking way!" He stared at me in disbelief, and I could only look dully back. "This ain't right!" he continued to shout, pointing at the judges. "You know this ain't right!" I looked over to where the judges were; all three of them were looking at me, talking behind their hands. Then, simultaneously, they each looked away and got up from their table. "Hey!" Bailey rushed to the wall of the cage, shouting at the judges through the wire mesh. "Hey! What the fuck you doing? You know this is wrong!" One of the judges stopped in his tracks and glanced coolly back at Bailey. The judge glanced around then chuckled before walking off. "Goddamn it!" he raged. "Let's get the fuck out of here," I muttered. I made my way to the entrance of the ring, then turned suddenly. I crossed the ring to where Logan stood, being interviewed by Douchebag Bryan. Logan still looked utterly confused. "Good job, man," I said quietly to Logan. Logan looked at me, opening his mouth to speak. Whatever he wanted to say never came out as if he thought better of it. "Thanks," he managed, shaking my hand. "Hey—you, um, you put up a hell of a fight." I gave one nod of acknowledgment and headed out of the ring. What a fucking bust. I'd had major plans for that money, but it was nothing that needed to end those plans. It wasn't that I felt like I was invincible, but something about this situation didn't sit well with me. It had been a close fight, to be sure, but it hadn't been that close.

The uneasy feeling that grew in my gut intensified, and doubt started to claw at my brain. When I was back in my dressing room, I glanced at my big brother's face in the mirror. His unease mirrored my own. "Something about that seem utterly fucked up to you?" Bailey finally asked, folding his arms. "I scored all your rounds in my head. Both you guys. And you came out on top, Asher. There's no way that kid won. There's just no way." I shrugged, pulling off my wraps. I didn't feel like talking. I didn't feel like doing a goddamn thing. Except sleep. I winced as I checked my face. Besides the cut that refused to stop bleeding, I had a lump on my cheekbone and my lip was split at the corner. My body ached and my neck and shoulders were sore. My ribs hurt like hell and drawing in breaths was painful. I knew I'd need to see the medic and get them taped before I left. Bailey handed me a cold bottle of water and two Ibuprofen pills. I nodded my thanks and drained it quickly. I glanced at Bailey again and felt a surge of annoyance at the concerned look on his face. I stared at the floor. "Let it go, Bailey," I said impatiently. "Kid won. Apparently fair and square." "Bullshit," he grumbled. "Fair and square, my ass." "Please," I muttered. "It is what it is, now." I looked at Bailey. "Right?" My older brother met my eyes, and I saw deep suspicion and something else in them, as though a light bulb had just gone off in his head. "Yeah," Bailey said, narrowing his eyes. "It is what it is." He pulled his phone out and began to call someone furiously. "Who’re you calling all pissed off like that?" I asked absently, wincing as pain tore through my abdomen when I tried to draw a deep breath. “Wilcox. It’s Bailey Prince here,” my brother said into the phone. The hell’s he ringing Wilcox for? “You see the fight?” There was a long pause as Bailey listened to the other end. “Yeah. Thought so. What you gonna do about it then? Because if this is how you’re gonna motherfuckin’ run things, you think fighters are gonna want to participate in this clown show?” I had to laugh at my brother. He was talking to the man who owned the tournament. There was no man higher up than Wilcox, and Bailey, apparently, didn’t give a shit. I guess being Champion, four years in a row, gave him standing. There was another long pause as Wilcox spoke to my brother. Finally, Bailey ended the call. “Yeah. We’ll be there tomorrow morning. Thanks, man. I knew you’d see right…Yeah, will do and you give my love to the Mrs. too.” My brother had made a huge impact in the MMA world, and Tess and him had been invited to Wilcox’s mansion for dinner on numerous occasions. Wilcox had a soft spot for my brother. Said he was like the son he never had.

“What was that?” “Wilcox watched the fight. He also didn’t like how shit hit the fan. He’s called an official meeting with the board tomorrow morning at ten. He said you needed to be there.” Bailey grinned then. “Think he’s gonna revoke the results and declare you rightful champion, little brother.” I shook my head, stepping into my trainers. “Can’t do that.” “The fuck you can, Asher. What’s more important than a two mill purse?” There was only thing more important. I glanced up at my brother. “New York City.”

Chapter Twenty-Three Her I SAT OUTSIDE courtroom number thirteen in the New York City Criminal Court. I was dressed in a black skirt suit, low black heels, with my hair pulled back into a bun, and no makeup. My sweating hands were clasped tightly in my lap, and my feet pumped against the floor as nerves hummed inside me. I glanced up, seeing my family standing before me. Ruby sat next to me, reaching out intermittently to pat my knee. Everyone I loved was there. Except one. I remembered Asher’s final words to me. He wanted me to not be afraid, to concentrate on this moment only. But then I caught a glimpse of him then—of Jackson James. No one else saw him. But I saw him, just the same, and it petrified me to the darkest recesses of my mind. He looked exactly the same. His cold, dead dark eyes bored into me. I couldn't be sure, but I thought he smiled at me. Twenty minutes after Jackson James vanished from my sight, but not my mind, the door to the courtroom opened and a hush fell over my family. "Miss Juliet Mucciarone?" the female bailiff asked, looking at me. I nodded and slowly, unsteadily, rose to my feet. "Please come with me. You've been called as a witness in the State versus Jackson James trial." I swallowed hard and looked around at my family. I saw concern, fear, and love on their faces. Ruby reached out and squeezed my hand, and I returned it weakly. "We'll be waiting right in the next room, my little girl," my father promised. He pointed down the hall. "That one there. Okay?" "Okay, Pop," I replied. I turned and followed the bailiff into courtroom, my stomach tightening with every step. The room was small. There was a judge's bench and to the side of that, were a dozen men and women I'd never seen before. There were a couple of lawyers present, to hear my testimony and question me, and several guards and NYPD officers. And there was the man who had done everything in his power to torture me and end my life. I stood rooted in place, unable to break the gaze I held with Jackson James. He wasn't smiling now but his eyes were as dark and dead as they had been before. They were pure evil. My head began to spin and waves of nausea roiled through

my stomach. Sweat beaded my skin and my pulse accelerated to a level that left me shaking and breathless. "Miss Mucciarone?" the judge called gently from his booth. I turned my eyes toward him, seeing a white-haired, grandfatherly face peering at me from behind a pair of spectacles. "Would you please come forward?" I turned my eyes back toward Jackson James, and gagged. I clapped a hand to my mouth as my eyes filled with tears involuntarily. "Bailiff, please escort Miss Mucciarone to the restroom," the judge said quickly. "We'll hold briefly for the witness to compose herself." I pulled away from the bailiff. "I got it," I squeaked. I pressed my lips together firmly and rushed out of the courtroom. My family must already have moved to the waiting room down the hall. I hurried down the corridor to the women's restroom and burst into a stall, dropping to my knees as I vomited violently. Tears streamed down my face as I continued to hurl. "Goddammit," I mumbled, cupping my face in my hands as I struggled to catch my breath. I leaned my head against the cold tile wall of the stall. I got shakily to my feet and left the stall, moving to the counter. I winced at my reflection. All of the color had drained from my olive complexion, even from my lips, and I looked as waxy and pale as a corpse. I leaned over to splash water on my face and then took a long drink. When I felt my pulse calming down, and my breathing regulating, I took a deep breath and straightened my clothing. I left the bathroom and walked back up the hallway to the side door of the courtroom I'd entered into earlier. For a moment, I paused with my hand on the door, squeezing my eyes shut. I took a deep breath as my pulse threatened to start racing again. "Jewel." I whirled at the sound of my name, spoken by the only voice that made me feel safe, made me feel whole, and my jaw dropped. Asher stood down the hallway, dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a navy blue button-down shirt. His face held a few cuts and bruises from the fight, but his recently cut hair was tamed, his clothes were pressed, and he was wearing black leather shoes. He looked at me for a long time. I froze, my mind not being able to process his presence. When he offered me that smile he did, the one that never failed to hug my heart, I ran toward him. He let out a soft grunt as I threw myself into his arms and winced, holding me back from him slightly as my arms started to squeeze around him. I looked up at him in confusion as he hissed softly, his face contorted in pain. "What?" I whispered. "Sorry," he murmured back, giving me a small half-smile. "Three cracked ribs."

I gasped, my hands going lightly to his side. "Jesus, Asher. Are you all right?" "I don’t matter," he said softly. He reached up to rest a hand on the back of my neck. "Only you do, Nutcracker. You all right?" I looked up into his eyes. "I don't know…" I answered truthfully. I shook my head. "I heard about what happened. The news says there's a major fan backlash against the judges—that they cheated, that someone—Asher, I'm so sorry I wasn't there—" "Stop it," Asher said. "I don't give a shit about the tournament. I'm here for you. You, Jewel. You. You are my world. If you break, I break. If you die, I die." I bit my lip to stop it from shaking, fisting my hands unconsciously into the material of his shirt at his sides. "You always know exactly what to say," I said tremulously. "Ow," Asher grunted softly, catching my hand that was twisting into his bad side. I dropped it immediately. "I'm so sorry," I gasped. "How did…how did you get here? You didn't drive all this way like this, did you?" "Bailey," Asher replied, half-smiling again. "He’s a little pissed at me but that doesn’t matter. When isn’t he?" I shook my head mournfully at Asher. "You should be resting." He shrugged. "Told you I'd be here for you, told you I’d protect you… Always," he said simply. He smirked a little. "Even risk your Dad beating my ass if he sees me here." He looked around. "Where's your family?" I pointed over my shoulder down the hall. "They're in a waiting room down that way." The door opened behind me and the bailiff poked her head out. "Miss Mucciarone, are you ready now?" My eyes glanced over Asher questioningly. "This is a closed court. Your friend may wait out here or with your family down the hall." "I'll be right there," Asher said, nodding toward the bench just to the left of the door. He took my hand. "Come on." We walked the dozen or so steps toward the courtroom. The bailiff averted her eyes and ducked back into the courtroom to give us some privacy. She used her foot to keep the door slightly ajar for me. "I don't know if I can do this, Asher," I whispered as I caught sight of my attacker's profile in the room. My stomach immediately seized up again. Asher tugged on my hand and made me look at him. "You have to do this," he said softly. "You have to do it for you and for the women he killed, and for the women he might kill if you don't do this. Jewel, don't let this guy have a hold on your life for one more second. Put this shit to bed, now. He couldn't kill you,

couldn't destroy you, and he never will. Because you are stronger than he will ever be." Asher grabbed my chin and made me look up at him when I tried to look away. "He doesn't define you. What he did to you doesn't define you. You told me yourself—you're no victim. Now show me." His pewter eyes bored into mine intensely. "Show me. You copy?" His tone was harsh, terse and brusque, but I could still hear real caring in it. It strengthened me, made me stiffen my spine and hold my shoulders back. I pulled gently out of his grasp and lifted my chin of my own accord. I looked him in the eye and nodded. He returned my nod and reached out to pull the door open for me. He looked at me expectantly, and I refused to let him down twice, so I entered the room again. The bailiff nodded at me and hovered a hand over the small of my back, gently guiding me toward the witness stand. I glanced back at Asher as the door began to shut. He didn't nod, smile, or otherwise change his stoic expression, but everything I needed to hear or feel then, I saw within his eyes. I turned away as the door closed and stepped onto the stand. It ends here. THE BAILIFF OPENED the door for me and I headed inside, my knees wobbling. My testimony had easily been the most difficult thing I'd done. I had been required to relive the ordeal in detail to a crowd of strangers, and, in front of the demon who had shredded me apart with his bare hands. Jackson James had remained expressionless during my testimony and it had unnerved me completely. There were a few times I faltered, unable to go on, but I thought of Asher, heard his words, believed the truth in them, and made myself carry on. I was immensely proud of myself. For the most part, I remained stoic and calm, answering all the questions asked following my testimony. The cross-examination by the defense attorney had been difficult at best, absolutely appalling at worst. Jackson James' defense was that he was criminally insane and therefore had no real knowledge or idea of what it was that he was doing. The defense attorney used my testimony to try to further his point that some of those actions—forcing me to hold Jackson James after I'd been raped and beaten—showed how unstable and out of touch with reality he was. While I didn't contest that any rapist was a madman and a sociopath, I knew my attacker knew precisely what he was doing, and said so. The prosecution supported my claims by pointing to Jackson James' original statement to the police —that he'd been stalking me for several weeks, watching me dance in the ballet every night I performed, before going through with the attack. It was pre-

meditated, they said, and could therefore not be the random act of a man insane. I hoped he would receive the harshest penalty possible. The death penalty. For now, though, I just wanted to get the hell out of there before I had a real breakdown. I walked straight out of the courtroom into Asher's arms, being careful of his injured side, and hugged his good one. I felt him press his lips against the top of my head as he held me firmly to his side. "You good?" he asked softly. I didn't look up at him, but nodded against his chest. He kissed the top of my head again. "Let's go see your family," he said. "They're waiting for you." Now I did look up at him. "You…you want to come?" I asked hesitantly. He glanced down at me. "I’m not giving up on you. So yes. Come on." We walked down the hall toward the waiting room where my family was and knocked on the door. After a moment, my mother pulled the door open, a look of concerned expectancy on her face that changed to surprise when she saw Asher. "Asher!" she called out, and glanced over her shoulder at my father meaningfully. She turned back around to face Asher and me and reached out to squeeze his hand. "Look, everyone. Asher's here." Asher nodded at the chorus of greetings, and I tensed up when I saw my father get to his feet. "Asher," he said calmly by way of greeting. He glanced at me. "Can we, uh, step outside into the hallway for a chat? Juliet, why don't you go on in and get a cup of coffee and hug your mother or something." "No," I said stubbornly, tightening my arms around Asher's waist. He hissed in pain accordingly and I loosened my hold. "Shit. I'm sorry." "What's the matter?" my father asked, lifting his eyebrows. "Just a small bruise, sir," Asher managed, his voice roughened slightly from pain. "I'll be all right." "Three cracked ribs," I informed my father. My father sighed and reached behind him to shut the door to the waiting room. "You need anything, kid? You been to the doctor yet?" "I saw the medic at the tournament. He taped my ribs for me. I'll be fine, sir." Asher straightened up and looked my father in the eye. "You wanted to talk, sir?" "Yeah," my father said, sounding defeated. He sighed again. "Listen, Asher. You didn't deserve what I said to you yesterday. I was in a rage, I panicked. Had gotten some anonymous call telling me you leaked the story to the press, about my little baby girl, and I just lost it…" “Sir, you never have to apologize to me where your daughter’s concerned.” My father gave Asher a nod of respect and gratitude then, and I started tearing up as I watched them bond. "Sir, can I ask who called you?" Asher’s calm expression

didn't change, but I didn't miss the way his jaw clenched in anger. "I don't know," my father said. "Just some guy. He didn't give me his name. Why, you think you know who it was?" "I have an idea, sir," Asher said quietly. "And it was nothing against Jewel. It was done to hurt me, sir. Jewel was just an innocent bystander, if you will. I'm real sorry she got mixed up in it. The Network’s getting fined for airing the information and the commentators are getting suspended from work. A reporter and my manager, who I fired, were involved as well. I think they're the ones responsible for digging up the information and giving it to the commentators." "You fired your manager?" my father asked, confused. "Why would you do that?" "He didn't take care of Jewel, like I told him I needed him to when I was working," Asher said simply. "So I fired him." "Dad," I said gently. "I told you Asher was a good man. You don't need to worry about me with him. I'm always going to be okay." My father cleared his throat and extended his hand. "You are a good man, Asher," he said quietly. Asher immediately reached out to clasp his hand. I smiled at them both, my heart filling with a sweet emotion I didn't have a name for. Dad cleared his throat again and I realized he was fighting tears. Who knew Pop was really a teddy bear? "Well, you have to rush off, Asher?" my father asked. "We're going to visit some family while we're up here, have Sunday dinner on a Monday before we head home. Would you like to come?" "Oh, thank you, sir, but I have my brother waiting for me," Asher said. "He drove me here as a favor. He needs to get back to his wife, sir." "Asher needs to rest, too," I said, concerned about his ribs. My father nodded. "I understand. You get some rest, kid." He pulled open the door to the waiting room and gave Asher a half-smile. "You're all right with me, Asher." He disappeared inside, leaving us alone. Asher smiled at the look of happiness on my face. "Your father’s a good man." "He is," I said, gingerly hugging his waist again. "So are you. Thank you for being here when I needed you, Asher." He watched me for a while, as if he were thinking hard on something. Finally, he spoke up. "You’ve got to understand one thing about me, Nutcracker..." He tilted his head down, and swept his lips over mine, the heat of his breath sending shivers down my spine as he whispered, “that…I love you,” and then he kissed me. When he pulled away from me, my hand trailed his as my mind swirled from his declaration.

“I love you too, Asher.” I moved toward the door of the waiting room, almost on a high, and glanced over my shoulder. For a brief moment, the hallway receded and I only saw him— strong, quiet, thoughtful. Possibly the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, and not just on the outside. He constantly went out of his way to prove himself to me, to prove himself worthy of me, all the time. I was beginning to wonder if I were worthy of him. I slipped inside the room, pulling the door shut behind me. I bit my lip and my cheeks grew hot. "You look like you're going to pass out," Alexis said, suddenly appearing at my side. She took my arm and led me to a chair. "What's the matter? Are you okay?" "I've never been happier," I said. And I meant it.

Chapter Twenty-Four Her IT HAD BEEN over a week since the tournament had ended and I’d testified. Asher had stopped by his physician to get his ribs re-taped. His doctor persuaded him to rest, and sternly advised that any exercise was out of the question for at least the next month. But that didn’t stop him. Since we’d said those three little words, we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off one another. In just a couple of months, Asher had helped me evolve beyond the impossible. While I knew that making changes within myself was solely up to me, Asher had played a huge role in piecing me back together. The idea of loving him was a scary one, because that required me to place all my trust in another human being and hope for the best that he wouldn't hurt me, but it was something I knew I couldn't change. I loved Asher. I loved him, and that was that. As if he could sense my eyes on him, Asher sleepily opened his and glanced over at me, catching me staring at him. "That wasn't creepy at all," he teased, his voice husky and deep from sleep. I smiled and scooted closer on his bed, turning to press my back to his chest and wrap his arm around me. I faced the window and watched as the first rays of sun slipped between the remaining clouds. Asher's hand idly trailed down my tummy, stopping on my hip, and pulling it back against him as he gently pressed his hips forward, letting me know silently that he was ready for me. His lips pulled at my earlobe as he reached down to pull my nightie up from over my hips. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, leaning my head back as I enjoyed the feeling of his hands moving over my skin. That was another thing—I still couldn't believe that he'd turned me into such a sex maniac. The slightest touch from him always had me wet and humming like a well-oiled machine. I felt like I'd never be able to get enough. I felt his hand brush against my backside as he maneuvered his boxer-briefs down, and then I felt the thick length of him pressing against me. I allowed him to lift my top leg and drape it back over his, while he placed himself between my legs, right against my core I'd been moist before he'd even woken, and I let out a tiny groan as he slid his

tip along my wetness. I felt myself throb with need the instant before he parted me and pushed inside. The feeling of him inside me at this angle made me gasp with pleasure, my eyes flying open for a moment as he spooned me, his hips moving deliberately and insistently. I heard his breathing quicken as a low grunt raked through his throat. The arm below my head, bent, and a moment later, his hand buried itself in my hair while his other hand roamed my body freely as his hips moved, thrusting into me deeply. I moved my hips back on him in time to his thrusts, meeting each of his upward pushes with a sharp downward movement. He grasped my breasts before his hand moved to my throat, squeezing lightly as I breathed deeply through my nose. He was hitting some magical spot deep within me, sending sharp tingles of pleasure racing through my pelvis with each movement. If felt so indescribably wonderful that I had to struggle to keep my orgasm at bay. I wanted to feel this feeling forever. But his thrusts became so insistently hard, so deliciously rough, that I was finding it more and more difficult to ignore the pleas of my body to release. I felt him grow even harder inside me as I squeezed down around him, feeling my own moisture gush around his length. "Fuck, Ash…" I whispered, and at hearing me utter his name, his hand tightened slightly around my throat and his other hand tightened in my hair. "I'm about to come…" He bit the back of my neck. "Do it," he rasped. I squeezed around him again, and he growled deeply in his throat. "Ah, Jewel, fuck. Come for me." And I did, feeling like my entire lower half was imploding and exploding at the same time. I turned my face into the pillow to cry out my release as his hands gripped me tighter. I was still trembling when I felt Asher's thrusts increase in both force and speed and then he grunted quietly into my skin, and I felt him throbbing inside of me, still moving his hips as he rode us through both of our aftershocks. "Holy shit," I breathed, trying to catch my breath. "Let's take a nap and then see that again in instant replay."

Him I GLANCED OVER at Jewel’s sleeping form in the bright light of the afternoon, before I checked the ESPN website on my phone for any news. The entire MMA community was in an uproar. According to the reports and eyewitness accounts, I had been the clear winner, and the general consensus was that something was definitely fishy. I lowered my phone and sighed. I instantly regretted it as a sharp pain tore through my side. I had over-strained myself last night. But it was worth it. Jewel is always worth it. I leaned back against my bed and lifted my hands above my head, staring off into space, deep in thought. Bailey had found out that Marty White had been fired. Good. I hoped he would fall off the edge of the planet and never be heard from again. Because if I saw Marty, I didn’t think anyone could hold me back. I’d kill him. And as for Blaise…I'd always known Blaise to be shameless, but he had taken things to a surprising level. I realized there was little that could be done about it now, but my concern was trying to predict from where Blaise's next attack would come. I didn't believe for a second Blaise was through with me, but just how far he planned to take things, I couldn't be sure. Unfortunately, Blaise knew quite a bit about my personal life, from where my family lived, and he could probably find out pretty easily, if he didn't already know, where Jewel lived. I rubbed a hand over my face as worry gnawed at my gut. Things could get really, really ugly if Blaise wanted them to. My phone went off in my hand. I glanced at it and saw that it was Bailey. Going out into the hallway, I took the call. "Can you meet me downtown for lunch?" Bailey asked. "Wanna talk to you about something." "What?" I asked suspiciously. "Just get your ass downtown, okay? The sandwich place. Half an hour. Gotta go." He hung up without another word and before I could argue. I told Jewel I was meeting my brother and that I’d pick us up both some lunch and frozen yoghurt. Driving into downtown Pittsburgh, I parked the Charger across the street from the sandwich deli. I saw Bailey standing at the counter, getting ready to pay for my order. He smiled at me when I got to his side. "Hey, bro," he greeted. "Got you a turkey club, no mayo, extra tomato. Right?" "Yeah, thanks," I said, glaring at my brother suspiciously. "Bailey, what's this all about?"

Bailey paid for our lunches and accepted a tray with three large brown paper bags on them. I wondered who the third one was for and glanced around for Tess. "Come on," Bailey said with a grin. Bailey strolled right over to a table where a man was sitting, his back to us. He was dark haired and dressed in what looked to be an expensive navy suit. "Oh, thanks, man," the man said. Bailey grinned down at him and pointed over his shoulder. The man followed the movement and turned. Fuck me. Bradley Wilcox. My eyes shot to my brother as Wilcox got to his feet. He was much taller and bigger than he appeared on television and I eyed him as I extended my hand. Finally, I shook his hand. "Bailey?" I asked my brother uncertainly. "Hey there, Asher Prince," Wilcox said. "It's great to finally meet you. I'm sorry things ended the way they did at Ithaca. Why don't you have a seat, and some lunch, and we'll talk?" Bailey only grinned at me and pointed to the only other available chair. I took it, glancing between both men in disbelief. I waited until the bags with our lunches had been passed around. "What's a big-time event organizer doing with the peasants?" I said, maybe a little too harshly. Bailey kicked me hard under the table, but Wilcox only laughed. "Is that how you think I look at you?" Wilcox asked. "I don't. I'm sorry if I haven't been very visible. My work keeps me pretty busy." "Too busy to attend your own tournaments and keep an eye on things to make sure they're handled fairly?" I asked bluntly, folding my arms and leaving my bag untouched. Wilcox considered my words as he took a bite from his sandwich. He nodded as he chewed. "Basically," he conceded. "You do have a point. It's not intentional, though." "So what's up?" I asked, shrugging negligently. "You didn't call me down here to eat sandwiches and bullshit." "Jesus, Asher," Bailey said in annoyance. Wilcox locked eyes with Bailey and grinned. "You weren't kidding about him," Wilcox said. "Kidding about what?" I demanded, glaring at my brother. "About you being a no-nonsense hard-ass," Bailey supplied. "And a slight dick." "Listen, Asher, you're absolutely right," Wilcox said. "I didn't call you down here to eat sandwiches and bullshit. I called you down here to talk to you about Ithaca." He paused to wipe his mouth. "Your brother here started blowing up on

me on the phone immediately after the fight. I was in Las Vegas on business at the time." He took a sip from his iced tea. "You missed the official meeting, Asher, and I can’t say that helped the situation at all. But when I got back home I started getting bits and pieces of the story—of everything that happened involving you over that weekend. That your girlfriend was assaulted by fans and then publicly humiliated—really sorry to hear about what happened to her, by the way—that you fired your manager, and that, most interestingly, you lost the tournament when everyone else who scored it beyond the judges' booth said you won." Wilcox fixed me with a piercing stare. "All of these things were very interesting to me. So, I re-watched as much footage as I could get, including your bout with Logan. I scored your fight with him seven times, and each time, Asher, you came out the winner." "Not according to the judges," I said. "Blaise Colton has a big problem," Wilcox said bluntly. "And that is, that he thinks he’s smarter than he actually is. There's an old saying: When you grease the palms, it makes the fingers slippery. The judges were only too happy to rat him out and point their fingers at him. He paid them before the match to score it in Logan’s favor no matter what." Wilcox shook his head. "It was a dumb fucking move. Luckily, you've got a pretty big fan base, Asher, and a lot of people around you that support you. This shit never sat well with them from the get-go, and thus it’s something I can’t let go. Mostly due to your stubborn brother here." Wilcox clapped down on Bailey's shoulder. "Anyway, I scored your fight, like I said, and I had a new set of judges come in and score your fight, just to keep things honest. You won." My head swam. "So, what does this all mean, then?" I asked. "Isn't it just water under the bridge, now?" "This means that Blaise Colton owes me a big, fat fucking fine and will be banned from entering fighters in any MMA tournaments for the rest of his shitty life," Wilcox said bluntly. "He’s done, he’s washed up. If he can't enter fighters into the big, high-dollar purse tourneys, no one is going to want to work with him. He doesn't manage any clients—he doesn't make any money. He’s going to have to find a new line of work entirely." Wilcox took another sip of his tea. "He’s also going to lose that gym of his. You were the main draw, Asher. You were the reason why people wanted to go. I suggest you take back your investment and go elsewhere." "I plan to," I said. "We've already severed the business agreement. The bank is going to handle getting me my investment back. I'm thinking of opening up my own place." Wilcox nodded vehemently. "Excellent idea. Really. Great idea." He reached

into his suit coat and drew out a large white envelope. "Maybe this will help you get started." He slid the envelope across the table toward me. I glanced at it, then up at Wilcox, who looked back at me impassively. I then glanced at Bailey, who grinned widely. I had no trouble believing that if Wilcox weren’t sitting there, Bailey would be rubbing his hands together. I picked up the envelope. "What’s this?" Wilcox smiled and gestured toward me. "Why don't you open it up and take a look?" Hesitantly, I tore the envelope open and pulled out a thick piece of paper. I realized I was holding a check. It was made out to me, and it was for the amount of three million dollars. My eyes snapped back toward Wilcox, blazing. "You won, Asher," Wilcox said simply. "Fair and square." He took another bite of his sandwich. "Never let it be said that Bradley Wilcox is an unfair man." "This is for three million," I said, "the purse was for two." "Consider it...reparations," Wilcox said. "For your pain and suffering." He thought for a moment. "And a bribe to come back to Ithaca Part Two, next year." I licked my lips, hardly able to believe what I was holding in my hands. My mind whirled. My own gym had just become a reality. I could set Bethany and the kids up permanently. "Asher?" Bailey was saying, and I snapped my head up, and saw Wilcox holding his hand out. I shook myself and grabbed it, giving it a firm shake. "Thank you, Mr. Wilcox," I said humbly. "I appreciate this. Appreciate it a lot." Wilcox wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin into his bag before crumpling it. "Not at all, Asher. Like I said, you won fair and square. Thanks for being a part of the tournament, and I wasn't kidding about that being a bribe for next year." He winked, then laughed. He clapped me on the shoulder. "Thank your brother, here, too," he added. "He really had your back." He shoved his lunch bag into the nearest trash receptacle. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I've got to get back to the office. I've got some blacklisting of one Blaise Colton to do." He nodded and waved, then exited the deli. I shook my head at Bailey. "Don't even know what to say, man." Bailey grinned crookedly. "You're my baby brother," he said quietly. "No one fucks with my family. I'm not about to allow you to get fucked in the ass over some bullshit like last weekend. You won that, fair and square, like Wilcox said. That's yours." "I owe you like, a cut or something," I said lamely, gesturing with the check. Bailey shook his head. "No. I don't want any of it. You’re the one who nearly got beaten to death for it. But I do want you to open up your own place. You've got

too much talent, Asher. You're too smart to be working for anybody but yourself, especially for a douchebag like Blaise. I bet you could take back all of Blaise's clients, and even Connor and Leon. At this rate, Blaise is not gonna have that place for too much longer, let alone a pot to piss in. He brought this on myself. Hell—you could buy his share of the property from him. He won't be able to hold onto it, and it would save you the hassle of trying to find a new location. You'd just have to change the name and then it would belong solely to you." My head whirled. I couldn't believe how my luck had changed in the blink of an eye. Bailey leaned back in his chair and grinned. "So, what's your first move, little brother?" I didn’t have to think twice. It was time to make my wish come true. I got to my feet. "Why don't you come with me and find out?"

Chapter Twenty-Five Her ALL OF PITTSBURGH knew about me. The only surviving victim of a prolific serial killer. It had been over three weeks since my identity had been leaked. The papers had been calling me nonstop. How in the hell had they gotten a hold of my cell phone number? I refused the calls, ignored the voicemails, and refused to give any interviews. I wanted to be left alone. I accepted the sensationalism for what it was and sincerely hoped the interest would die. Quickly. The bus dropped me off a couple of blocks from The Harmony Center. I had my dress rehearsal before the real showcase this evening. I was ready, my costume was ready, and I felt confident about my physical ability to pull off the performance. But mentally, I was still a mess. I hadn’t performed live on stage since the attack. I’d had countless nightmares about Jackson James sitting in the audience, watching me, stalking me, and then… My stomach erupted in nerves. My heart pounded and my breathing increased through my nose. My hands and feet went freezing cold and I tightened all of my muscles to keep the shakes at bay. Stop it. It’s over, I told myself. Over. You did it. You stood up to him. It’s finally over. He no longer defines who I am and who I will become. As I strode down the street, I recalled the last time I'd been here. My first date with Asher. Instead of heading straight to The Harmony, I jogged over to the studio space. There was a sign in the window, like there always was, and at first my eyes skimmed over it, like they normally did. Then I froze. It took me several long moments to register that the sign said something different than it normally did. ‘SOLD.’ I continued to stare at it, confusion creeping over me, followed by anger, and then disbelief. I stood rooted in place on the sidewalk and barely noticed when my duffel bag slid off my shoulder and thudded to the dirty pavement. Sold. In the instant the word clicked in my brain, my heart broke. All of my dreams, all of my wishes, had been wrapped up in this dirty little space. All of the long years ahead I saw in my mind—walking through a roomful

of blossoming ballerinas, guiding them to become what I should have been—was shattered. All of that was gone. Swept out of the little studio space before me, like the dust on the floor. The rational part of my mind told me that this wasn't the only studio space in Pittsburgh. But the emotional part of my brain refused to hear the logic. This was the first space I'd looked at that had struck me with inspiration for dance again. After my attack, I'd stopped caring about almost everything in my life, dance included. When my family and I had first come to Pittsburgh, and I'd come to the downtown area, my old love of dance had stirred immediately when I'd passed this place. I had halted in my tracks—I remembered it so clearly—and I'd gaped through the window, instantly seeing in my mind polished wooden spring floors, rounded barres spanning the length of the room, floor to ceiling mirrors. And just like that, my passion had sprung back to life. And now...now it was all gone.

Him I WAS FLOORED as I watched her movements. The height of her leaps, the straightness of her legs, the strength and control Jewel had over her muscles, the fluidity of movement and absolute grace she embodied, the ease with which she executed her complex and expert choreography, blew me the fuck away. Nothing I did in the ring compared to the strength and skill my girl was showcasing to everyone right now. Her eyes would dully move across the audience from time to time, but I knew she wasn't really seeing anything or anyone. She was ‘seeing’ with her emotions. She wore simple tight black dance shorts and a ripped black top. Several layers of black tape covered her mouth. Every so often, after a change in beat in her song, she reached up and ripped off a layer of tape. I took it to mean that she was shedding some sort of silence, some sort of fear. At the climax of the song, the houselights dimmed completely, but there was very faint backlighting from the backstage area. I could see her silhouette as she moved, but what caught my attention were the glowing red streaks of paint suddenly illuminated in the darkness. I studied them curiously for a moment, not sure what they meant, until a set of streaks on the inside of her ankle caught my attention. It pulled my memory back to that awful night when I'd first learned of her secret. I abruptly realized I was staring at the brutality she had inflicted upon herself. At one time, the only way she knew how to deal with the emotional pain that was tearing her apart. I watched as she spun on the ball of one foot, her head back, her beautiful long hair streaming out behind her, her arms down at her sides and her hands gracefully poised. I studied the straightness of her supporting leg, the point of the other foot lifted to the knee, the arch of her back. The paint flashed around as she spun, and I could only watch in silent amazement. She bore her scars boldly, shamelessly, defiantly. This is who I was, she seemed to be saying. This is what I did. As the lights crashed back on, she stared at the audience fiercely as she came out of her turn, extending a leg at hip-height, straight out to the side. Her dark eyes were flashing with something like anger and she yanked the last scrap of tape off her mouth, revealing a thin black X over her lips. She executed a leap combination and as the music wound down, the passion and anger seemed to leave her movements, grace taking their place. Her movements slowed, and gradually, as the

music faded out, she resumed her original position, kneeling on the floor, in the middle of the stage. The lights dimmed. I heard a wild, ear-piercing whoop from somewhere near the front of the stage and I let out a long, heavy breath, feeling my heart thudding in my chest, and one single tear drop down my cheek. I loved her. I would always love my girl.

Chapter Twenty-Six Her WE ALL MADE it back to Bloomfield. My whole family, Ruby, Bailey and Tess, had all come to watch my performance tonight. I couldn’t have done it without a single one of them. My father was offering homemade pizza for everyone to celebrate my success, my new life, at the café. Asher drove a few blocks past the café to my apartment and walked with me upstairs so I could get showered and changed before heading over to the café. I stopped short at the site of my door slightly ajar. "Asher…" I breathed. "I see," he said, and I glanced over at him, seeing his jaw clenched. "Get behind me. Now." I obeyed, watching as he pushed my door open. I followed him inside my apartment as he made a quick circuit of the living room and the kitchen. When he stepped out of the kitchen, he caught my eye and pointed at the couch. The look in his eyes made my stomach clench with fear. "Sit there," he said, his voice gentle and low, but offering no room for discussion. I immediately dropped onto the couch and watched as he crept deftly toward the back of my apartment, where my bedroom and bathroom were. After a few long moments, he returned to the living room. "No one's in there," he said. "But I...I didn't see Rocky anywhere." I shot to my feet. "Oh my God. He probably got out—if the door was open he probably just ran out. He does that all the time if I don't watch him." As I rapidly talked I moved back to the door. "We have to find him—" "Hang on," Asher interrupted, grabbing my arm. "Not to downplay your cat missing, but I—we just came home to your fucking door hanging open. This is a secure building, so that means somehow somebody got in here, and broke into your apartment. Let's focus on that." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "I'm calling the cops." "And I'm going to look for Rocky," I replied firmly. I fixed him with a stare that let him know I wasn't kidding around. Finally, he nodded and sighed. "I'll go with you," he said. “But I’m still calling the cops.” I nodded and without another look at him, I turned on my heel and flew downstairs, Asher right behind me. I burst through the door, my heart pounding.

Rocky meant everything to me. I'd adopted him from a shelter shortly after he'd been born and had raised him from a kitten. He was my rock, before Asher. He was still my number one man. I couldn’t lose him. My eyes burned with unshed tears as soon as we were outside. I knew that he was naturally a very curious animal, and had often tried to slip outside before. He wanted to sniff all the scents, nibble at the grass, chase mice and other vermin in the darkness that he could see in. He was lean and muscular, and very fast and agile. I'd witnessed him leap from the floor to the top of my refrigerator casually on many different occasions. I wondered if he could be up a tree somewhere. "Rocky," I hissed harshly into the night, straining to hear rustling noises of grass that might herald his movements. His noiseless, tiny padded paws wouldn't make a sound out here. "Rock! C'mon, kitty." “Rocky, here boy,” Asher said, looking around as well. I stood in place, my ears pricked for any sound. I wasn't sure how long I stood like that, but after an extended silence, I tried again. "Rocky," I called a little louder. "Rock-kitty. Come here!" I tried all of the nicknames I had for him that he responded to, my voice higher in pitch and tone because he liked my voice that way. I stood still, listening hard again. I moved around the sidewalk that led to the side of the building, calling out softly for him as I went, Asher still right behind. We had just rounded the corner of the building when I heard a tiny, piteous little mewl. "Rocky?" I called, and heard the sound again. I sprinted toward it, blind in the darkness, calling his name and listening for his cries. I heard Asher tell me to stay with him but I didn’t listen. Between the way the cries sounded and the fact that Rocky hadn't run to me, I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I pulled my cell phone out to activate the flashlight application to see well in the darkness. "Rocky," I called softly again, and swung the flashlight to my left when I heard another small, pained noise. I saw his long, lithe body stretched out in the grass about five or six feet away and hurried over, throwing myself on my knees as I examined him, feeling relief, confusion, and horror at the same time. One of his front legs was bent at an odd angle, and there was matted blood in his soft gray fur. I stroked a hand along his body gently, fighting back tears at the way he weakly winced under my hand. Had he broken his leg somehow? Had someone done this to him? I was utterly confused and it made my heart sick to see my beloved cat in so much pain. "It's okay, baby," I said softly. "I got you now. You're okay." I heard Asher walk toward me from behind, and I set my phone down. Preparing to lean forward to

scoop Rocky up, I heard a loud bang, like metal hitting bone, and then heard a low chuckle in the darkness. I froze. That wasn't Asher. My body tensed as I whirled my head in the direction of the noise. I saw a dark figure approaching me slowly, but I couldn't make out his face. "Hi, Jewel," a low voice said. My breath and pulse picked up speed as I recognized it. Blaise Colton. “Asher!” I screamed, when I saw his body slumped on the ground. He wasn’t moving, and I could just make out a faint line of blood trickling down his head. Blaise was holding a steel bar in his hand. Oh God…Get up Asher! Get up! You can’t be dead. You can’t be! "What did you do?" I snarled. "Aw, I just broke your boyfriend’s skull, is all," Blaise said coolly. “And your cat’s little leg. Maybe some other things. Just wanted to leave you and your boyfriend a little message. But then I decided that wasn't enough. So here I am. You look good, Jewel." "You cruel, disgusting piece of shit!" I hissed angrily. I rose to my feet, feeling adrenaline sweeping through me. That this man had tried to take everything away from me, when I’d only just started getting my shit together, infuriated me, pushing any fear I felt to the back of my mind. I was done playing the victim. I was done. I wished I had a gun then. I was so angry, I would have shot him without a single regret. Blaise reached out and grabbed me, slamming me face-first into the brick wall. He forced my face to the side, tilting my jaw out toward him and covering my mouth with a hand. He gripped my face hard and pressed his palm painfully against my lips while my neck throbbed from the odd angle and my forehead scraped along the sharp brick. I felt the insides of my cheeks thrusting painfully around my teeth as my jaw tightened and tensed. I felt panic rising—horrible, dismantling panic that threatened to freeze me up and make me go limp. "See, Asher fucked up when he fired me," Blaise was whispering into my ear. "He fucked up in a huge way. But then—he fucked me over again. I don't know how he does the things he does, but that motherfucker got me banned from MMA. Forever! Do you know what that means, Jewel? Do you? That means I can never manage any fighters because I can't enter them into tournaments. Who wants to be managed by someone who can't even do anything for their career? He might as

well have chopped my dick off." He chuckled again, the sound horrible in my ears. I realized I could smell a strong, pungent, sharp odor of alcohol around him. He had pressed me into the wall below a wall sconce, and in the dim light, I could see, when he leaned into my face, that his pupils were dilated almost to the size of his entire iris. His eyes were bloodshot, hazy, and insane. I assumed he was both drunk and high on something, all at the same time. "So then this fucker takes my business from me. My motherfuckin’ business— the one I built from the ground up. Because he got me banned, and I won't be able to pay any of my bills. For a day I lost two-thirds of my clientele when they found out he fired me. Do you know how much money that comes to?" His hand was still gripping my face hard and pressing the side of my forehead into the brick, hard. It hurt so much, but I refused to cry out. I only shook and stared back into his eyes with fury. "What hasn't he taken from me?" Blaise went on rhetorically. He tightened his grip somehow, and I tasted copper on my tongue again as the tender insides of my cheeks scraped tightly against my teeth. He pushed on me, and I felt a wet trickle slide down my temple as it raked over the brick wall. I moaned involuntarily, squeezing my eyes shut at the pain. Blaise was using the elbow of the hand gripping my mouth to pin one of my arms to the wall. His other hand pinned my free arm to the wall down by my side. His body was pressed against mine, and his legs somehow maneuvered against mine to wedge in between them and around them. I didn't know how he was holding me. All I knew was that I couldn't move. Any slight tension on my part resulted in pain from the force he was exacting on me. "The only way I see it," Blaise went on, his voice dropping to a sharp hiss, "is for your fucking mick boyfriend to understand what he's done—is to take everything from him." He leaned his forehead against the back of my neck and then nipped at my flesh there. I cringed, trying to lean away, only to feel a fresh burst of pain throughout my body. "I do believe that's where you come in, Princess. I think you're everything to him. So I'm gonna fuck you real good and he can watch when he wakes up. If he wakes up." I began to pant at his words, feeling throbs of pain with every flex of my lungs. It hurt so much to even draw breath, since he was pressed against me so tightly. I felt I couldn't catch my breath. I was terrified of what was going to happen next. "The way I see it, things started going to shit with me and Asher as soon as he started fucking your tight pussy," Blaise growled in my ear. He rolled his hips against my buttocks and I moaned again in disgust. "So if I fuck you, then things will go to shit for him. It's the only way. Don't you see, Jewel? You're going to

help me fuck your boyfriend." He giggled maniacally in my ear. "In more ways than one. So let's get down to business, shall we?" His hand dropped down to my waist, then lower, fumbling at the button on my jeans. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you up the ass since you let me grope it.” My eyes glazed over as my body froze up. My thoughts receded, almost as though my brain were signaling to my body to give up the fight, to let things happen. Vague, distorted images of my previous attack hazed in and out of my mind, my own screams echoing through my brain intermittently. I looked down at my poor cat who had been hurt, and at Asher. And then a sudden warm rush of white-hot anger flooded through my veins like it was on an IV drip in my arm. I. Would. Not. Be. A. Victim. Anymore. A sudden memory flashed through my brain, seemingly forever ago—one dark night, late, at the gym when Asher had been trying to show me some self-defense moves. It hadn't worked when he'd been the assailant—I'd panicked. But what about when I had been the assailant? I recalled Asher’s heavy leg swinging around behind mine, his arms maneuvering fast, and before I'd known it, I'd been on my ass. Despite having never repeated the move since that night, it seemed to all come back to me in a rush. I jerked hard, blindly, feeling pain shooting through me, but got my left leg free. I used my hips and butt to thrust back hard on Blaise, putting him slightly off balance, before I swung my left leg in a giant step backward, positioning it right behind the back of his right thigh. My arms were still trapped, but I thrust my hip hard again, throwing him even more off balance. As a result, he let go of one of my arms as it flailed in the air, trying to regain his balance, and I slammed my elbow back into the center of his face as hard as I could, feeling the flesh and bone give way with an incredibly satisfying crunch. I felt wetness on my elbow and realized it was from the blood that began to spurt from his nose. He bellowed in pain, his hands going to his face as he stumbled back blindly, and I used the opportunity to ram my knee into his groin as hard as I could, making him choke out a moan and a gag before doubling over, his hands now moving into his crotch as he gasped for breath. I threw an uppercut into his face before using my other fist to slam down on the back of his neck, laying him out flat on his stomach. I kicked him hard in the ribs for good measure before turning fast on the ball of my foot toward where my cat was still laying. I scooped Rocky up as gently as I could, cringing at the tiny mewls of pain he whimpered out, and cradled him as I hurried toward Asher. Asher’s eyes were slowly opening and relief washed through me.

He was alive. He was alive. Asher pushed himself up, his eyes narrowing at the blood on my face and arm, and his eyes went wide. "What the fuck—" "Blaise," I interrupted breathlessly. "He did this to Rocky…And you.” "Where is he?" Asher asked, his voice hard. He placed a hand to his head and growled when he saw blood on his hand. “He hit you with a steel bar and then tried to attack me." A sudden cold, violent anger settled over his face like a mask and my insides twisted as I shrank under his gaze. Asher could be absolutely terrifying when he wanted to be. "Where did he go?" he rumbled. "He's just there," I said, pointing to Blaise’s body. Asher took a giant step toward him, but I used one hand to fumble at his shirt, pulling. He was going to kill Blaise. He was going to stomp on Blaise’s head until he didn’t draw breath. And then they would lock Asher up, for good. Away from me. "Asher—” He growled and jerked free of my grasp. He stopped short at the man laying facedown on the ground. Blaise was still breathing, but he wasn't moving. Asher looked at me over his shoulder, his anger mixed with absolute amazement. "You laid him out like this?" Asher asked. "Yeah." Surprisingly, a reluctant grin tugged up one corner of Asher's mouth. It was more of a grimace, but he shook his head. At the sound of our voices, Blaise stirred vaguely and groaned. The anger fell back over Asher's face, creasing his brow deeply, and he dropped a foot on Blaise’s back, digging in with the heavy heel of his boot. "You outta your fucking mind?" Asher hissed down. "You came after Jewel? You got a death wish?" He leaned down, pressing his weight on his foot in the middle of Blaise's back, and the bastard cried out weakly in pain. His face was a bloody mess from my elbow. Good. The sound seemed to only spur on Asher's rage. He knelt down, one foot still in Blaise's back, and reached out and gripped the side of the man's face and pressed it hard into the pavement. Blaise let out another strangled cry. "You've gotta be fucking shitting me," Asher went on in a furious undertone. "I could break your spine right now—you know that, right?" He dug in harder. I hurried forward and grabbed his shoulder. "Asher, stop." My voice was commanding, not a plea, and at the strength in it, Asher glanced up at me. "I fought him off. I put him down. Don't do this. Don't stoop to his level. Don't get in trouble over him. I can’t lose you. Remember what you promised me. I never have to be afraid while I got you." My hand tugged insistently at his shirt. "So stand up.

Now." Asher glared down at Blaise again for several seconds, not releasing even a little pressure on either his back or face. Finally, he let go and rose to his feet. He stepped back from Blaise and continued to glare over at him. I noticed Asher’s fists were clenched by his sides and shaking slightly. I reached up to touch his face, instantly drawing his attention. "Calm down," I said softly. "Just calm down. For me, okay?" I pressed my palm against his cheek insistently. I felt his jaw tighten under my hand before releasing, and he gave me a terse nod. The sound of vehicles at the back of the building caught my attention. I glanced over Asher's shoulder and saw the police. I glanced back down at Blaise, then at Asher. "Are you calm?" I asked. "The cops are here." "Go meet them," Asher said. "Bring them over here. I'll stay and make sure he doesn't get up or try to run." I nodded at Asher, meeting his gaze intently. He seemed to understand my silent question and nodded slightly. "I'm calm," he said. "Go on." I exhaled a tense breath, feeling relief flooding my body again. I rushed off to meet the cops, still holding onto dear life of my little baby Rocky.

Him IT HADN’T TAKEN long for Jewel's family to catch wind that something wasn't right. Once the cops had gotten our statements, they informed us that we had to come down to the station to give a formal statement. They also wanted to take photographs of both our injuries to submit as evidence to the prosecuting attorney. Jewel had reluctantly given Rocky to her sisters who informed her that they would take him to the twenty-four hour veterinary hospital immediately. After we were done at the station, I took Jewel immediately to the veterinary hospital, where her sisters still were. The vets on staff assured her that despite his broken front leg, he would make a full recovery with plenty of TLC, and they planned to keep him overnight to make sure that he remained stable. Jewel hadn't wanted to leave, but I gently pointed out there was nothing she could do for him that wasn't already being done. I promised to bring her back first thing in the morning. I drove us back to Bloomfield. It was almost eleven o'clock by the time Jewel convinced both of her parents that she was just fine, that nothing else was going to happen. The threat had been resolved, she had promised them. Finally, they relented and headed back to their home, promising to see her first thing in the morning. Ruby had lingered throughout everything and looked utterly exhausted. She put a hand on Jewel's shoulder. "You want company tonight?" she asked. "I can stay over with you if you don't want to be alone. Or—" She glanced at me and her full lips twisted into a little smirk. "Or I can go home and shut the hell up." "Um…" Jewel said awkwardly. "It's cool," Ruby said, a full grin on her face. “Connor’s been begging for the chance to see me again. Guess I’ll let him.” I could only laugh. Connor hadn’t shut the hell up about Ruby since they met. Ruby reached out to pull Jewel into a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I want details,” she said, looking at me. “You owe me details. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna get mine." Jewel and I headed to her apartment. I frowned as I pulled the security chain into place. "Need to take a look at the lock tomorrow," I muttered, mostly to myself. "I can fix it, so don’t you worry about a thing, babe." I glanced at Jewel, who was leaning against the wall next to the kitchen and staring off into space. "You okay? You hungry?"

Jewel shook her head. "No, I'm good. I'm just…tired." She glanced up at me and held her arms out. "Take me to bed." I nodded and reached out to pull her into my side. I was laying in her bed quietly, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom once she had showered. She finally crawled under the covers beside me, wearing a white ribbed tank top that just barely covered her bottom and nothing else. As she snuggled up to my side and my hand trailed down her body, I fought the urge to really touch her like I wanted. It had been an incredibly stressful night, and I just wanted her to sleep this night away. Then I felt her hand begin to stroke my bare stomach sensuously and I felt my cock immediately harden at her touch. I stayed still, but let my hand that was around her, trail down a little farther, finding the expanse of smooth flesh below the hem of the long tank top. I stroked it with my fingertips and was rewarded with her little shiver. I felt her lips press into the side of my neck and I tensed my muscles to repress a little shiver of my own. I turned my head slightly toward hers and before I had fully finished the movement, she was hungrily attacking my mouth with her own. I could hardly keep up with her, sliding both of my hands into her hair as if to keep her head still so I could catch up and try to slow her down. But Jewel didn't seem to want to be slowed. She maneuvered her body on top of me, careful to hold her weight up with her hands and not put pressure on my ribs. I smoothed her hair to one side and relaxed as her kisses slowed slightly and she began to suck gently at my lips and my tongue. A moment later, I felt warmth from her pussy as it settled directly on top of my rock hard cock, still encased in boxer briefs. I grunted at the pressure and sensation, and then she started grinding her hips on me. My hands slid up the sides of her thighs as she moved, rocking back and forth on me. I gripped down, tighter than I'd meant to, as she hissed in reply. But when I immediately lightened my hold, her hands fell on top of me and moved them back to where they were, encouraging me to resume my grip on her. "Shit, Jewel," I murmured, unable to look away from her hips moving on top of me. My hands moved up her thighs and around the back to grip her bottom in both hands. I wanted to be inside her in the worst way. I slipped a hand around to her front and touched her gently, already feeling her slicked with her own sweet juices. I stroked my thumb over her and she shivered again under my touch. Before I could repeat the action, she moved off of my hips and took the elastic waistband of my underwear in her hands and tugged down, freeing me. I could hardly believe my eyes when she straddled my legs and hovered over my groin, her long hair trailing along my stomach. She met my eyes before the tip

of her tongue passed between her lips and slid up my shaft toward my tip. My cock jerked in response to the sensation. She licked around my tip again, using the flat of her tongue. I let out a sharp exhale and a soft string of whispered curses when, at once, she sucked the head of length into her mouth and gripped it tightly with her cheeks. Her mouth was warm and wet, as though she'd been salivating for me. I couldn't look away or utter a sound when her head started moving, side to side, and up and down, as she worked my cock with her mouth. One of her hands came up from where it rested on my thigh and gripped the base of my member, swirling slowly and tightly around my shaft as she bobbed her head to take me deeper in her mouth. I couldn't believe the sensations she was evoking, and the sight of her working on me nearly made me explode. When I felt my tip slide past her tonsils, I ran a hand through her hair and tugged gently, letting her know to stop. I watched as she sat up slowly, swiping the back of one hand over her lips, before reaching out and taking her by the waist, pulling her up to straddle over me again. My eyes were fixated on her sexy hips as she hovered over me. A moment later, the sensation of my head parting her and sliding up into her hot depths, after the attention I'd received from her mouth, almost undid me. But I clenched my jaw and helped her bob up and down on me slightly as she took more of my cock with each downward thrust. She gasped at the feeling. Her hands scrambled to me as I pushed her tank top upward and she pulled it the rest of the way over her head. I lifted my hips off the bed, ignoring the burst of pain in my ribs from the effort, and she squealed as I entered her fully, buried deep inside her. Her hand unconsciously floated to her lower abdomen as though she could feel me in her stomach. I slipped my hands up her stomach to graze her breasts, her nipples prominent from her arousal and growing harder under my touch. Jewel placed her hands over her breasts and began to move, her eyes closed and her head tilted back slightly as she rolled her hips forward on me. I could feel every ridge of her walls sliding over me, around me, and her wetness coated my cock deliciously. I was buried inside her. Our hips flush against one another as she pushed her hips forward on me. My hands slipped back to her waist before separating. One gripped her bottom in one hand while the other slipped around to her front to stroke her again. She moaned, deep in her throat, and leaned back, bracing her hands on my thighs as she continued to move. The positioning and angle somehow made her tighten around me, and my fingers stopped moving for one brief second as my jaw clenched, and I tilted my head back into the pillow.

"Don't stop," she whined softly and I quickly began to stroke her again as her hips picked up speed. I gripped a fistful of the soft flesh of her backside in one hand and slid my fingers over her clit, slicking it in her wet juices and wishing it were in my mouth instead. I wanted to drink her. Taste her in my mouth. As I felt her walls starting to tighten around me, and pulse, I felt the hard peak of her center swell up. And then she was exploding around me, from the inside and the outside, and I felt her juices explode on me and could only watch as she shivered and moaned, her nails digging into my thighs. I lay still, waiting as she slowed the movement of her hips to collect herself. When she looked down at me, I swore I saw her eyes glow in the darkness and then she was riding me, really riding me, hard. Her hips lifted and pounded down on me as her fingers moved to my chest. My hands moved all over her, from her hips to her ass and up and down her back, wanting to feel all of her smooth skin under my rough hands as she thrust down on me, over and over. She leaned forward until her tits were in my face and I slid my hands up her stomach to cup them, pulling one into my mouth as I squeezed the other. I could only focus on the taste of her flesh and feeling of her tight core squeezing around me, up and down me, over and over. I was barely aware that she was trembling around me, and keening out wordlessly, when I felt my cock reach its maximum hardness the instant before it broke deep inside her. I growled low in my chest and squeezed her harder than I meant to as I thrust my head back into the pillow, feeling myself throb out my seed into her hot, wet depths as tidal waves of pleasure rolled over me, rippling out over my skin. I felt her hot, sweaty skin slide against me as she leaned forward, panting into my neck. I felt a drop of sweat on the back of her neck and used my middle finger to trail it as far down her back as I could before it dried out. I swept my fingertips up and down her skin as lightly as I could, smiling at the way her flesh twitched under my touch. I closed my eyes and kept up the motion of my hands as I waited for myself to completely drain and soften inside her. Later, when she was cleaned up and snuggled up against me again, naked this time, I kissed her forehead and pulled her in close. "You were really, really fucking good tonight," I murmured sleepily. Her low giggle carried through the darkness. "Uh, thanks," she said. "I guess you could say that you woke the beast in me." I popped open my eyes in confusion and thought about what she was saying, then had to laugh. "That's not what I meant, Nutcracker. Just now, yes, you were really, really good—don’t be getting a big head, now.” We laughed. “I was talking about your dance. I want you to know, Jewel, I saw you. I really saw you tonight." "Oh," Jewel replied and hugged my chest briefly. “I put my heart and soul into

the dance, Asher. It was about a mute victim with no voice morphing into a strong survivor finding her voice. It was my subtle dedication to you.” I felt a twinge in my heart then. “Me? Why?” “I am indebted to you. You are my everything. You saved me Asher. You saved me. I don’t wish for anything anymore. Not when I have you protecting me, loving me. You were the gift to my healing. I don’t need or want for more.” Soon enough, I thought, soon enough. I’ll make all of her wishes come true.

Chapter Twenty-Seven Him I WAS OFFICIALLY the proud owner of Tornado’s, the property formerly known as Blaise's Gym. I had visited my attorney and had a notarized letter sent to Blaise Colton and his attorney regarding selling me the business. At first, Blaise point-blank refused. Said it was his dream and blood. I had rolled my eyes at that. Blaise was so full of shit. Told my lawyer to lower my proffered selling price to a price point that was just a hair above insulting. Blaise was done. It had been over a month since Blaise attacked Jewel and me. He was looking at a long sentence in prison. Eventually, he sold, knowing he’d never get out. When everyone had left the gym, I wrapped my hands. A few rounds with the bag would be exactly what I needed to burn off the excess energy and allow me to unwind. I stripped off my shirt and put my gloves on, then went to work on my favorite bag. I was so intent on my task I didn't hear the footsteps behind me, until I heard a throat clearing itself. I whirled around, seeing Jewel leaning against one of the posts of the ring in the middle of the room, her arms folded over her chest. "Hey," I panted. "Thought you'd gone home." "Nope," she replied. "Just went outside to talk to some of the women before they left. Looks like you're going to be real busy training us women to kick ass." My women’s defense classes had been running successfully since I started them two weeks ago. "Good," I replied, raking a hand through my hair. My chest and back were covered in fine beads of sweat and my arms and shoulders ached. I must have zoned out during my impromptu workout and gone harder than I'd planned. Jewel cocked her head, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes slid down me slowly. "You know, I never got my one-on-one final test, Teach." I immediately felt a surge go through me, and my cock stirred at her words and the look in her eyes. "You didn't?" I asked. "Huh. My mistake." Jewel smiled and reached up to tug on one of the ring ropes. "Maybe we should do that now, while all the information and the techniques are fresh in my mind." Before I could reply, Jewel pulled herself up agilely and ducked between the ropes, heading for the center of the ring. She turned around and met my eyes, then pulled her workout T-shirt over her head, revealing a white sports bra she wore

with her tight black yoga pants. I watched as she kicked off her running shoes and socks, then rolled her head around her shoulders as she stretched her arms. "Come on, Tornado," she called. “Leave me in the dust.” I joined her in the ring, wearing just my basketball shorts and my shoes. I copied her movements and removed my shoes and socks as well, stretching out my own arms. My eyes moved over her frame, appreciating the way her low-cut sports bra showed plenty of her ample cleavage, and the way her black pants clung to her hips and the smoking-hot perky curve of her ass. As my cock twitched again, I knew this test would end a little differently than the others had. I dropped into a fighting stance, playfully circling her. "I don't have the armor on," I reminded her. "So no knees to any places you're gonna end up regretting later. You know how much you need it." Jewel smirked, then dodged in lightning fast, slamming against my shoulder, throwing me off balance, and cutting an angle before dancing away. "Very nice," I murmured. "Very fast." Jewel hopped lightly from foot to foot. I was momentarily distracted by the way her abdomen contracted when she moved, and how the air conditioning made her nipples suddenly come alive through the fabric of her sports bra. And I missed her next lightning-fast lunge inward as she smacked my temple with the back of her hand before moving away just as fast. I shook my head and glanced at her face, seeing she was unsmiling, but her eyes were dancing. She loved that she'd caught me off guard. Twice. “No more,” I said, “I’m taking you down.” “I love going down,” she teased. I swallowed hard at the thought of her mouth around my throbbing cock. I lowered my head and studied her shoulder line intently, still circling her as I brought my hands up loosely into guard. I feinted to one side and she fell for it, moving to block, before I lunged from the other side. I kicked her feet out from underneath her, then caught her before she could fall over, gently pushing her away as I playfully smacked her sweet tight buttocks. I laughed at her expression before my eyes slipped down her body once again, unable to resist checking her out for the umpteenth time. The heightened tension, and the light physical contact, was distracting and was doing nothing for my hardening cock. This was almost—almost—as good as foreplay. I circled her as she danced around me, and we took turns feinting and lunging with no real contact. She skipped in toward me, ducking to one side before leaning back the other way and kicking the back of my knee, making my leg buckle before she twirled away. I growled, righting myself, and began circling her in a way that had her back against the ropes in a matter of seconds. I lunged, and she ducked swiftly under my arms.

“Fast,” I admitted. “But not fast enough, Nutcracker.” Before she could dance out of reach again, I grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back against my chest. I held her there for a while as she looked back at me. I pressed my hips forward slightly, right into the soft, curved flesh of her bottom so she could feel me. Her eyes hazed out for a moment, the warm, bright brown color darkening as she felt me pressing against her. Then, they sharpened with focus as a startled look entered them when I lifted her high into the air. I grinned up at her, then slammed her onto her back onto the mat. Air expelled from her lungs when her back made contact and her eyes went wide. She let out a breathless laugh and I leaned over her, my hands planted on either side of her. "I guess I failed the test, huh?" she asked throatily, looking up at me. I looked at the fine sheen of sweat on her arms and the tops of her perfect breasts and stomach. I licked my lips. "I accept extra credit," I replied, then dipped my head to run the tip of my tongue up her sweaty throat to her pulse. She bit her lip and made a noise of pleasure, then grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled me down toward her as she lifted herself up on one elbow. Our mouths crashed together, pulling and pushing, nipping and licking frantically. It seemed we were both on a mission to get into each other's mouths as deeply as possible. She tore her mouth from me and then licked down my neck, her tongue and lips moving lower over my chest as she tasted my sweat. Her hands slid over my back and her nails dug in when I gripped her jaw in one hand and forced her mouth back to me, reaching in deep with my tongue. I reached down to grip one of her thighs hard, then used my knees to roughly push her legs apart. I looked down into her smoldering eyes before I thrust my hardness right up against her, and she gasped sharply. Most of the sound disappeared into my mouth as I claimed her lips with my own again. I felt her hands gripping and sliding over my sweaty skin and I sucked against her lips before licking down over her cleavage, lapping up every bit of her sweat I could taste. I dipped my tongue between her tits and she groaned. She lifted her head and grabbed the side of my face, forcing me to look at her. Lust made her eyes flash urgently. "I want it now," she whispered raggedly. "In this ring." Before I could move, she reached down to yank her sports bra up over her head before moving to tug her pants down her hips, until she could get one leg out. The other leg remained inside the pant leg. I bit my lip as she reached for the waistband of my shorts, taking in the sight of her. She wore a white thong and nothing else, and I let her push my shorts down as I lowered my mouth to one breast, teasing the nipple and

tasting more of her sweat. "Ash," she whined softly, "take them off!" I grinned against her skin and nipped her breast, making her squeal. I leaned my weight onto my forearms and pushed her on her back. She collapsed with a sigh, then grunted softly when I reached down and tore her panties at the waist, pushing them down her thigh. "I’m not sorry," I whispered in her ear, pulling her lobe between my lips. "I know you’re not," she panted back, her legs lifting to press against my sides. "You never are—now give it to me." I used my teeth to grip her throat and pulled myself the rest of the way out of my shorts. I ran my tip along the slit of her pussy, shuddering when I felt her juices coating me and making her groan. I thought about teasing her a little more, but then I felt myself throb with need in my own hand, so I pushed one of her legs over my shoulder and lined myself up at her opening. I pushed into her pussy hole in one rough push. I still held her throat between my teeth, and felt it vibrate against my tongue when she moaned even more loudly. I nipped down hard to make her squeal again before lifting my head and my upper body. I realized we were in a corner of the ring and she reached behind her with one hand to grip the pole as my hips moved with a mind of their own, slamming into her strongly as her legs tightened around me, one over my shoulder and one around the back of my ass. She brought her face to my chest again, licking the fresh sweat that began to trickle down, her tongue swiping over my hot flesh. I rolled into her deeply and her head tilted back, her lips parting to gasp. Her eyes were slits and she moaned softly with each thrust, trying to keep her voice down. I looked down at her, clenching my jaw. I decided I didn't want her to keep her voice down. I pulled out of her quickly as her eyes opened wide in surprise, and I leaned back on my knees, pulling her legs from around me and flipping her over. She grunted softly at the rough treatment from my harsh, needy hands, but looked back at me over her shoulder, excitement in her eyes. I drew her hips back toward me, simultaneously pulling her back on her hands and knees, and then entered her roughly from behind. The change in angle and friction caused her to let out a strangled yelp that quickly melded into moans that grew increasingly in volume as I thrust in and out of her. She was glove-tight around me and I filled her to the brim. The ridges of her walls, so thickly wet with her excitement, felt amazing sliding against my aching cock, gripping me and releasing me rapidly as I moved my hips forcefully. My hands moved all over her fucking fantastic body, gripping her shoulder, sliding

down her sweat-slicked back, gripping her hips for control. I slipped one hand up her back and yanked the elastic out of her hair, freeing her ponytail. She flung her head and her hair spilled down her back. I let out a grunt and wound one hand into her thick, flowing locks, tugging gently to pull her back deeper onto me. I maneuvered my thighs to make her press hers tightly together, and at this new, ultra-tight sensation, I cursed and clenched my jaw tightly. Jewel was definitely not being quiet now, and I lent an attentive ear to her moans. I let go of her hair to reach around her front to squeeze her tit before sliding my hand over her shoulder and into her hair again. This time I grabbed a handful near her scalp as I beat into her. She started to moan a strange combination of my name and a random curse, over and over. She reached a hand back to grab my hip, encouraging me to hit her off as deeply as I could manage. I obliged, and her hand moved to stroke the sweaty skin of my stomach. Suddenly her nails dug into my flesh and her thighs trembled and tightened around me, and her inner walls gripped me tighter than ever. Her back bowed and her head fell forward and I realized she was coming, and coming hard. I heard a low, strangled shriek erupt from her throat as her body shuddered. Her dark hair suddenly went flying as she whirled her head around to meet my eyes, and it was too much for me. Her orgasm was at its peak and her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were practically black with lust, her lips swollen, moist and parted to give her moan room to flow out of her throat. I made a noise, rumbling deep in my chest, and then I was climaxing, picking up where she was leaving off. I leaned over her to bury myself as deeply as possible inside her, and groaned throatily into the smooth skin of her back, squeezing her bottom as my hardness broke inside her and incredible pleasure barreled into me. There was so much of my seed gushing from my steel-hard cock, and I pulled out, pouring some of it onto her fucking gorgeous ass and rubbed it in, just the way she liked it. I entered her again, hard, filling her up to the brim, and when I was finally done, I pushed her flat on her stomach and leaned on top of her. Both of us were fighting for breath as I grinded my seed against our bodies. I kissed her cheek and then nibbled her ear until she squealed with laughter. I pulled out of her and rolled over onto my back, slapping her bare ass as I went. I panted as I glanced at her, her hand reaching out, her fingers clawing hard down my abdomen. "You passed," I managed, as Jewel laughed and dug her nails in harder. “Jesus Christ, I love you.”

Epilogue Her Three months later… I STRETCHED OUT on my sofa with Asher sprawled on top of me. I had my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his shoulders, and we were both dozing in and out of sleep. Our bags were still on my living room floor. Asher had taken me to meet Gable’s wife, Bethany, and the kids, in Los Angeles. They were amazing, and I could see why Asher loved them all like family. They had made me feel like family as soon as I had arrived in their home. And Asher had told me that Bethany thought I was a keeper. We’d gotten back from the airport a couple of hours ago, and had done nothing other than feed Rocky before collapsing on the couch. "That time difference is a real bitch," I murmured sleepily, unable to open my eyes. "Mm-hmm," Asher replied, nuzzling my stomach. As if on cue, it growled loudly. He sighed. "Does it never stop?" "Hey," I said defensively. "I'm a growing girl. I have a big appetite." "You haven't grown since you were like, thirteen," Asher said, his voice muffled in my body. "I saw the pictures. You just like to eat. It's cool. I can appreciate that in my women." "Your 'women'?" I replied, opening my eyes fully and lifting an eyebrow at him. He lifted his face from my belly and grinned at me. "Now that I have your attention," he said, "let's go get some food. I can't deal with hearing your stomach gurgle all night." I laughed and swatted his head. "Well, you said the magic word. Food is definitely the way to my heart." "And also your…" He stroked his hand between my legs and I let out another laugh, this one somewhat more breathless than the first. "Don't start," I warned. "I'm cranky until I've been fed." "Don't I know," Asher replied sarcastically. He got off of me and pulled me to my feet, glancing at the time. It was shortly before six o'clock. "What sounds good on a lazy Sunday evening?" I asked with an enormous yawn. I couldn't believe how tired I felt. Food, and then bed were definitely in order. I licked my lips as I eyed Asher. What happened in the bed, and whether or

not we went right to sleep, was an entirely different matter. "Actually, I was thinking that Elements place downtown," Asher said. "You've made me a believer. That steak I had was awesome." "I don't want to change, though," I whined. I was wearing a simple, loose offthe-shoulder T-shirt, skinny jeans and spiky-toed flats. It was certainly not appropriate for the upscale restaurant. "And that place is fancy." "Fuck fancy. I want steak. We'll get it to go," Asher said with a shrug. He tossed an arm around my shoulders and hauled me into his side. "Damn, you are a whiny brat when you're hungry and tired. You’re worse than our little Rocky." "I'm glad you know this now," I shot back. "It will save you so much grief later on." "Save me grief?" he repeated, amused. "Yes. Now feed me." I stretched up on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck, before pressing my lips to his indulgently. His full, soft lips moved against mine. I smiled. "And then feed me," I added suggestively. "Yes, ma'am," he said in my ear before nibbling it. My stomach growled again loudly, and he sighed, smacking my bottom as I moved toward the door. “Amscray, already,” I ordered, jovially. “’Amscray?’ Seriously, where are you from, Jewel?” he laughed, coming to my side. “Just get to it,” I laughed back. "Hey, I’m all for it. Your stomach is cock-blocking me again." "Some things just come first," I said with a grin, reaching up for another kiss on the way out. Asher parked a couple of blocks away from Elements, the closest space he could find, and I hopped out of the Charger and wrapped my leather jacket around myself. It dawned on me that I'd completely forgotten to call our order in on the way. Now we’d have to sit and wait there while it was prepared. Oh, well, I thought, smiling at Asher as he came around the car. I can think of worse ways to spend my time. As we walked down the block toward the restaurant, my mood darkened slightly. We were nearing the corner where my—the studio had been. When we reached the corner, I stopped in my tracks, and tugged his arm. "I want to see if anything's been done to it," I said. Asher looked at me doubtfully. "You sure that's a good idea?" he replied, not budging. I pulled on his arm. He reached out and grasped my shoulders. "Listen, this place is water under the bridge. Tomorrow, you and me—we'll go look for another dream space, okay? Don't torture yourself."

"I just want to see," I said softly. "I guess I want to make sure that it's taken care of right." I rolled my eyes and shrugged. "It was my baby for so long, I still feel protective over it." Asher sighed, but shrugged. "As you wish." I pulled on his hand and led him around the corner. "Damn, someone didn't waste any time," I said, pressing my face to the window. Parallel to the window was a wall painted in my favorite shade of lavender, which only added insult to injury. The wall cut off, indicating a corner, and I could just barely see a short hallway. There was a big wooden desk in the corner by the entrance, with a large calendar, something that looked like an appointment book, and some decorative items. That’s odd, I thought. Over the past few months, Asher had asked me what kind of interior design would I like in my future studio. Most of the items I could see inside were exactly those items I pointed out to him. Asher looked up. "Looks like there's a sign, but it's covered up for now," he said, pointing. "Wonder what this is? Like a spa or salon type thing, maybe?" "Maybe," I murmured, narrowing my eyes. Asher reached out and tried the handle, and to my great surprise, it opened. He blinked at me. "Guess...they're open?" He nodded toward the inside. "You want to check it out?" I hesitated. On one hand, it really sucked that this place, my place, had already been designed into something, and that so far it had so many things I personally loved—from the paint on the wall, to the little desk. I wondered what else there would be inside to hurt my feelings. On the other hand I wouldn't be able to sleep unless I looked over every inch of the place, no matter how much it killed me. I nodded and stepped toward the door. He held it open for me and I walked through, catching a scent of jasmine and hyacinth in the air, which further agitated me. I noticed that in addition to the lavender paint on the walls, there was a swirling, cream-colored border that had been painted at the very top and very bottom of each wall. That is exactly how I pictured it. I turned the corner and saw that there was another short hallway before, with some sort of large room to my left and more wall to my right. The room had a long window and I rushed up to it to see what was inside. When I saw what it was, my jaw practically hit the floor and something like rage curled in my stomach. "Asher," I said in a strangled voice. "This—it's a studio!" Asher stepped up next to me and his eyes scanned what I was seeing. The window peeked into a large room. One wall was floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A parallel double barre ran the length of two of the other walls. The floor was wooden, shiny and new. I was utterly flabbergasted. Asher let out a low whistle. "Wow. I didn't see this coming. I thought this

would be like a spa or like you said, a bakery or something like that. This— wow." I backed up until my back hit the wall behind me, and then I noticed another room farther down the hall. I glared and stormed toward it. "Oh, they have two studios," I said mockingly. The back studio was dark, but through the window I could see myself and Asher reflected dimly in it. It had a push-door that was currently shut. I glanced to my left, seeing a little sitting area in front of the studio room, and beyond that was another little room, probably an office. I could make out the vague shape of a desk and what might have been a bookshelf in the little room, but it was dark. I growled as I turned to face the studio again, and stepped toward the door. "I have to see this." "Jewel, hang on," he said. "I think you need to calm down.” "I am—" A sudden creaking noise from somewhere in the building met our ears, and I froze. Shit. I'd gotten so overwhelmed and carried away with my hurt and irritation that I'd forgotten—someone actually owned this place, and even though the door was unlocked, they might not appreciate us poking around. "Someone's here," I whispered to Asher. "Okay, if anyone asks, we're here because…because we have a kid and…and we want her to start taking lessons—" "Or," Asher whispered back dramatically, mocking my stage whisper, "we're here because you own this place and you have every right to be here." "Right," I said absently, barely hearing him as my mind whirled. It was a likely story, one that could be believed. "Wait," I said suddenly, looking up into his face as I realized what he'd said. "Say what, now?" In response, Asher took me by the hand and pushed the door open. My heart began to thud in my chest and it all came together in the instant before he turned on the lights. Fragments of conversations about my dream studio that we’d had suddenly came back to me, and the questions Asher had asked echoed through my mind. The understanding that this was my place hit me as the studio was suddenly bathed in bright light and I found myself looking into the faces of both our families. Happy faces, excited faces, loving faces. "Surprise!" I didn't even register that I was crying until my vision became so blurry I had to stop and rub my eyes. Then, I was being rushed by all of the people in the room. My parents. My sisters. Ruby—Connor by her side. My nieces and nephews. My brothers-in-law. My dear Uncle Gino. Bailey and Tess. They swarmed around me and hugged me, squeezed me, kissed me, congratulated me, told me they loved me. I was overcome by the force of their love, and it was all directed at me. I felt light-headed; feeling the true power of love in its purest form was transcendental.

This is mine, I thought, and cried harder. This is my dream and it's real. I hoped that I was being responsive to my loved ones, but I couldn’t seem to connect my mind and body. I was just too stunned. Asher elbowed his way through the small crowd to my side, and I saw he held a large manila envelope in his hand as well as a set of keys. With my favorite halfsmile, he handed them to me. "Your ownership paperwork and the keys," he said simply. "Congratulations, Nutcracker." I took them from him weakly. He did all of this, I realized. He did this for me. I felt an overwhelming surge of love for him as I looked into his eyes. I wanted to thank him a million times, tell him how lucky I was to have someone like him in my life, tell him that I couldn't believe he had done something so amazingly thoughtful and kind for me, tell him that he had just made my life's dream come true. "You are in so much trouble," was all I could manage. His half-smile spread fully across his face into the grin I loved. "I'll take it," he said simply, using his thumb to brush tears off my face. We celebrated this new milestone achievement all through the night. My mother had brought aluminum pans of spaghetti and lasagna. Ruby had baked and decorated a glorious cake, white almond sponge cake with raspberry preserves and cream-cheese filling, topped with mounds of extra-light, fluffy whipped frosting, My absolute favorite. Ruby had decorated it with a pair of pink pointe shoes, tied together with their ribbons. Bailey popped the top on a couple bottles of sparkling juice, and everyone sat together on the floor of the backroom studio and just—celebrated. The pinnacle of the night came when everyone walked outside and gathered in front of the studio. Asher flipped a switch inside, then came out and pulled on a thin rope, one that I had missed when we’d arrived earlier. The canvas tarp covering the sign, fell to the ground, and my heart caught in my throat. Illuminated in a soft glow of lights in the dark of the night, my sign—my sign!—shone softly. ‘Jewel’s Dance Academe.’ I began to cry all over again. There was much to work out. There was advertising and building clientele. There was selecting and organizing all my dance classes. There was artwork to put on the wall. There were class fees to decide on and select. And, I thought, as I set my jaw determinedly, there was a business contract to be drawn up with Asher, in regards to repaying him for his investment. No matter what he said, I would pay him back every last red cent. But for now, I was content to stand there on the sidewalk, surrounded by my

family—for Ruby and the Prince’s were under that umbrella as much as my blood relations were—and wrap myself in the arms of a man that I loved with every fiber of my soul, a man who had healed me from my horrific past, and a man who had given me so much love. Too much love. As I smiled up into his beautiful blue eyes, and pulled him down so I could relay my love for him with my lips, I had no doubt. Asher Prince was the tornado to my demons, but he was the shelter to my storm.

Acknowledgements This was my first book, and mark my words, it will not be the last. I have the new adult romance bug. I can’t stop. It’s been a long time in writing, and thanks to the following people I actually finished it! Thank you to Daisy, my best friend, for creating the perfect book cover. Thank you to Mr. Black for editing my manuscript and for putting up with my constant emails and messages, late into the night! I couldn’t have done this without you! You’re a superstar! To my fiancé, thank you for throwing peanuts at me to keep me alive as I wrote in the attic of our house. I couldn’t have survived without you! And lastly, I’d like to say a huge thank you to all my readers who took a chance on my debut novel. It means the world to me that you shared my story and I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing it. Oh... and I can’t forget a shout-out to my gorgeous cat Rocky. Yes, you are in the book, little one. Please don’t sue me. It’s just a coincidence.

About the Author Missy Blue is an American author who writes New Adult romance, rides a unicycle, and loves her cat. She also teaches Kung Fu and often practices with her fiancé. Poor guy. Did you like this Book? Authors like Missy Blue survive because of your recommendations and your encouragement. If you liked The Tornado, then please tell your friends! She will love you forever!