Spike: (#3.5 The Beat and the Pulse) Read online

  SPIKE

  #3.5 The Beat and The Pulse

  Amity Cross

  Spike (#3.5 The Beat and The Pulse) by Amity Cross

  Copyright © 2015 Amity Cross / Nicole R. Taylor

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All song titles, song lyrics, products and brand names mentioned in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.

  Cover Design © Amity Cross / Nicole R. Taylor

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Other Books in The Beat and The Pulse

  About the Author

  Hang in there love,

  You’ve gotta hold on and be strong enough to love.

  One

  Ren

  I looked out over the empire that Ash had built and smiled.

  Pulse Fitness was booming six months after its grand opening. The machines were almost full, the classes were selling out and there were plenty of people wanting to sign up for the full package. Personal training, nutrition and more. We’d had to bring on more staff to keep up with the demand.

  My sexy as hell boyfriend, Ash Fuller, was at the helm of it all, pulling the strings like a puppet master. He was even training a couple of up and comers for their shot at the big time. Troublemakers who had talent but lacked the discipline to get themselves there. Ash had said they were just like him when he was their age, and I guess that’s why he took them under his wing. They were just like him when he was their age, Ash had said, and I guess that’s why he took them under his wing.

  Ash had his fair share of naysayers in the beginning, but he’d proven them wrong time and time again.

  I turned down a lucrative professional fighting deal to slum it at everyone’s favorite illegal cage fighting hot spot, The Underground. Ash had turned it down to build his fitness empire.

  So far, the kingdom was looking pretty bloody great.

  A pair of huge hands covered my eyes from behind, and a hard chest pressed against my back.

  “Hey, Spitfire.”

  I smiled as I felt Ash move against me. “What’s with the blindfold, He-Man?”

  “I am the master of your universe,” he shot back, biting my ear.

  I grasped his wrists and tried to pull his hands away, but he was way too strong. “Seriously, what gives?”

  “I’ve got a surprise for you upstairs.”

  “Upstairs, huh?” He started to lead me across the gym, his back pressing against mine. Stumbling over his big feet, I said, “How about you cover my eyes when we get to the door.”

  “I get to have your ass rubbing against my cock this way.”

  “Filthy bastard,” I declared.

  “You love it just as much as I do, Spitfire,” he replied, his voice low and husky. “Up.”

  My foot hit the bottom step, and he lifted me gently, keeping one hand over my eyes. He was right about one thing, I did love the dirty talk just as much as he did. Ash Fuller had been dubbed a beast during his time at The Underground, and it extended outside of the cage and right into the bedroom. I wasn’t complaining at all if you know what I mean.

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

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

  When he first bought the derelict warehouse, Ash promised to build me a home in the space above the gym. I’d lived above my dad’s boxing studio, Beat, for a couple of years now, and I couldn’t imagine being away from a place that held everything I loved.

  It wasn’t like that in the beginning though. Dad had stuck me in the storeroom like a dirty little secret, and I’d been ashamed over my living conditions for a long time. He didn’t want to introduce me to his family or take me in, so I’d been locked away in the cupboard like some kind of fucked-up Cinderella. Things had gotten better after Ash and I had found one another, but that was another long-winded story full of more drama than I could poke a stick at.

  “Hold onto that thought, Spitfire,” he murmured.

  Ash let one hand drop from my eyes as he unlocked the door to the apartment and pushed it open slightly. His hand returned to its position as my makeshift blindfold, and we were walking forward again.

  “Ready?”

  “Let me see already!” I complained, too excited to put up with his theatrics a second longer.

  Ash pressed his lips against the back of my neck, and for a moment, I thought he was just pulling me up here for a quickie, but then his hands dropped away, and all was revealed.

  “What do you think?” he murmured, an unmistakable hint of nervousness in his voice.

  I stood there, open-mouthed, taking in the apartment Ash had built for me.

  The living area was open plan with a black and white kitchen dominating one end with a dining area to the right. In front of us was a large living room with all the essentials—a plush leather couch and armchairs, a dark cobalt blue rug, black coffee table and a wall-mounted television that must’ve been at least seventy inches. That was all great, but it was the little touches he’d put in that had me star-struck with him all over again.

  There were shelves set into the wall with photos and ornaments, all of them fighting related. The frames held pictures from our recent holiday to Thailand, from candid snaps of us on the beach to full-on action replays of our time training at the boxing studio we’d been invited to.

  It was simple and no fuss. Just how I liked to keep my life. I didn’t have any words, so I didn’t say anything.

  “Fuck,” Ash spat, taking my silence to mean that I hated it.

  “Calm the farm, Fuller,” I said, trying to hold back laughter.

  “Then say something, Spitfire. You’re putting me on edge.”

  “I haven’t seen the bedroom yet,” I said suggestively. “Or the bathroom.”

  “Shower time with Ren Miller,” he said dreamily. He was totally taking the piss, but I loved him for it. He was much more chilled these days, and mostly I put it down to finally finding his calling in life. Coach Fuller had a nice ring to it.

  Moving through the living room, I noticed a row of large photos on the wall. I went there first, stopping to study each one. There was one of my dad and I at one of my qualifying bouts when I was trying out for the AUFC. His arm was around my shoulders, his expression hard as he spoke into my ear, his free hand raised. My skin was glowing in the aftermath of the fight, my brow furrowed as I listened to what he was saying. It was a snapshot of something larger, a moment in the grand scheme. That had been a dark time for me. It was when Ash had left me high and dry, and I’d thought he’d murdered Hammer in my name, but Dad and that place had gotten me through.

  After everything my f
amily had been through, finding my dad again seemed like a miracle. He’d left my mum and I when I was five, and it wasn’t until I went and found him after her death that I realized he’d started another family. It’d taken a lot for us to get to this point.

  Next to the photo of Dad and me, was one of Ash and me at the opening party for Pulse. He was looking totally swish in his suit and tie, and I was totally out of character in my slinky black dress. We stood together, his chest squished against mine, our eyes locked on one another like the crowd and the cameras didn’t exist. Another Kodak moment.

  Moving onto the third photo, I frowned when I saw an enlarged print of the photo I kept in my things at Beat. After she’d passed, a lot of sleepless nights had been spent staring at the picture of my mum and I. We were sitting on a picnic table in a park, and her arms were around me. I must’ve been seven or eight, my long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and I wore a plain, red T-shirt and blue jeans. My mum looked totally nineties with a floral dress and hiking boots on her feet.

  “Where did you get this?” I asked, not sure how I felt about having the photo on the wall. I kept it hidden, close and protected, since it was one of the few pictures I’d kept of us after she’d passed away.

  “I had to go through your stuff,” Ash replied carefully. “I didn’t read your diary if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I don’t have a diary, smart-ass.”

  “I thought you’d like it,” he murmured, unsure at my reaction.

  I stared at the photo a moment longer, taking in the grainy image someone long forgotten had taken on an old film camera. “I love it.”

  “Are you pissed that I snooped?”

  I shook my head. “No secrets, remember?”

  Taking Ash’s hand, I moved through to the bedrooms, inspecting each of the three. The two smaller rooms had a bathroom attached with a modest bath, shower, and vanity which had a black and white marble bench top with black tap ware, but it was the master suite that had me swooning.

  Ash had put in a king bed with a black leather headboard. A recessed wall above had little reading lamps and photo frames inside, all matching colors with the artwork on the opposite wall. Huge floor to ceiling windows opened out onto a small private terrace, and beyond that, I could see the entire Melbourne city skyline. There was so much to look at, I didn’t know what to gush over first. The view that would light up the night like nothing else, the walk-in closet or the bathroom with the huge bath, double shower and underfloor heating.

  It was totally posh and belonged on the pages of a design magazine. I couldn’t believe we were going to live here. Me and Ash. Ash and me. It was ours.

  Kicking off my shoes and peeling off my socks, I curled my toes into the plush carpet and breathed in the new smell that clung to the apartment.

  “I’m taking your silence to mean you like it,” Ash said from beside me.

  “Are you kidding?” I asked, throwing my arms around his neck. “I love it.”

  “Good,” he replied, moving his mouth to cover mine.

  I parted my lips, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue merging with mine. I curled my fingers into his hair and held him against me, letting everything that he was overtake my senses to the point where I began to ache between the legs. Every time Ash kissed me, my knees buckled. Nothing had changed since day one in that department and neither had my need for him to be inside me. If anything, it’d gotten stronger as each day went by.

  “I love you,” I murmured, pulling away.

  “I love you,” he echoed, running his hands up and down my back before cupping my ass. “When are you moving in?”

  “I’ve gotta stick around Beat until Dad finds someone to take over management,” I murmured, tracing my fingers over his lips.

  “When’s that? I’m dying without you.”

  “Suck,” I said with a laugh.

  “True story, Spitfire,” he retorted. “Every night that you’re not in my bed… Let’s just say my hand ain’t the same.”

  “Deviant.”

  “When?” He pressed.

  “A couple of days I hope. Dad’s coming back next week.”

  “Good. Can you feel how happy that makes me?” He moved his crotch against me, and boy, could I ever.

  “Do you have anything to do right now?” I asked, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt and pulling it up.

  Ash swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to my breasts, which were squashed against his chest. “I’ve got an hour. What did you have in mind?”

  I bit my lip and smiled sweetly. “Shower time with Ash Fuller.”

  Two

  Ash

  “Dammit!”

  I smashed a fist down on the kitchen counter in frustration.

  “What’s up your ass?” Ren asked from her perch at the island.

  She was sitting there in a tiny T-shirt and pajama bottoms, spoon in hand with a bowl of her favorite cereal in front of her. All Bran and berries. The blue ones always got eaten first so she could save the red ones for last. Point was, she was watching me with a raised eyebrow looking sexy as hell.

  I gestured at the toaster, which wouldn’t toast. “The fuckin’ thing won’t thing.”

  “The fuckin’ thing won’t thing?” she asked, raising her eyebrow even higher. Sliding off the stool, she rounded the island and stood next to me. “Ah, I see the problem.”

  Leaning around me, her tits pressed against my arm, and she smiled coyly...and flicked the switch on at the wall.

  “It has to be on first,” she said with a smirk. “Give it a try now.”

  Pushing down the lever, the bread stayed down, and the toaster began to do its job. “Hallelujah.”

  “Where would you be without me?”

  “Sittin’ here eatin’ cold bread.”

  Pulling in a deep breath, I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. I cast my gaze out across the apartment that I’d built for my one and only, taking it all in. It was brilliant and all, and I had spared no expense making her dream home come alive, but something wasn’t right. There was a feeling in the air that something was unfinished, but I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly it was. Pulse was doing great, and it ran like clockwork these days, the apartment was finished and paid off, Violet was finally happy and living her life up in Sydney, and drama was at an absolute zero.

  Maybe the fact that Violet was absent was the thing that had me on edge. She was my baby sister who I’d protected through some of the worst years of our lives like a parent. I had to after ours had abandoned us like unwanted furniture on the side of the road. Maybe the absence of a family was what I was missing.

  Ren edged closer and placed her hand on my arm. “What’s on your mind, Maverick?”

  “Nothin’.” Every time I had a shift in mood, she was onto me like a hawk. The toaster popped and I turned and pulled the hot slices out and began spreading margarine and jam on them.

  “What’s that look on your face?” Ren asked, standing beside me.

  “What look?” I asked, wrapping my arm around her waist.

  “The one that says the cogs are turning in your brain.”

  I shook my head, casting my gaze across the apartment. It was perfect. She loved the home I’d built for her, she loved the gym downstairs, she loved her life and she loved me. What else could I ask for?

  Ren pinched me on the ass. “Maverick, spill.”

  “Do you ever wonder about what’s next?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Where’s this going?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve been so focused on getting this place going and now that it’s done…” I sighed, pulling Ren into my arms.

  “You need a goal, fighter?” she murmured against my chest.

  I grunted.

  “Well, what about Cole and Ryan? They’re getting pretty good. It’ll be time soon for qualifiers. Do you think they’re ready?”

  Ren was thinking about the business and the two stooges downstairs, but I�
�d been thinking about something else.

  “Do you ever think that we’ll get married?” I asked.

  Ren snorted, lifting her head so she could make a face at me.

  “What?” I asked. “You wouldn’t want to get married?”

  She screwed up her nose. “White, flooffy dresses?”

  “That’s just the actual thing. The getting married part,” I said, holding her tight. “And the dress doesn’t have to be flooffy. Hey, is flooffy an actual word?”

  “Everything I say is an actual word,” she replied, feigning sarcasm.

  “But have you ever thought about it?”

  She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t need a bit of paper to say that I love you.”

  She wasn’t interested, and the idea that she didn’t want to be bound to me like that, had me slightly disappointed. I didn’t care for dressing up and declaring my love in front of people. I’d be content to just sign the papers, put a ring on her finger and be done with it. No ‘flooffy’, white dresses, cakes, flowers or cameras. Just her and me like it had always been. Violet might kill me when she found out, but I just wanted Ren.

  “It bothers you?” Ren asked, pulling away slightly.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I muttered.

  “Ash—”

  “I want you any way I can have you,” I interrupted before it became an argument. That was the last thing I wanted the first morning she stayed over in her new apartment.

  Grasping her face in my hands, I laid one on her, pressing my lips against hers. She sank against me, shoved her breasts against my chest and forced her leg between mine. Grinding my stiffening cock against her thigh, her lips curled into a grin.

  “Animal,” she murmured.

  “I have a three minute commute that doesn’t need to start for at least another hour,” I said.

  “Your toast is getting cold.”

  “Fuck the toast.” I tangled my fingers into her hair.

  “After all that fuss with the switch?”

  “Don’t push it, Spitfire.” I tugged her head back and kissed her neck.