Chapter Four

The theater was packed when Violet and Peyton arrived. It was madness of a level neither one of them really wanted to endure. People pressed in on them from all sides, it was loud, and a couple of big guys wearing MMA-related tee shirts came up to them. They asked for Peyton’s autograph and a couple photos with the rising star. He politely declined to answer their questions about the heavily circulating rumor regarding his camp switch and they left, excitedly talking about their brush with a “star”. The whole encounter drew a bunch of stares from other people, who obviously were not into the sport and therefore clueless about who Peyton was.

After standing in line for another twenty minutes and not getting any closer to the counter, Peyton grabbed her hand and led her back outside. Violet didn’t protest. It was quite evident they weren’t going to see a movie that evening. He looked up at the sky as they were leaving and turned to smile at her.

“It’s not too late for that impromptu picnic,” he said as they reached her car.

“I rather like how you think, Mr. Ashley,” she replied, smiling as the car horn chirped and unlocked.

She moved to open the door and he gently swatted her hand away from the handle.

“I made a promise,” he drawled, opening the door for her.

Violet couldn’t help but laugh, leaning up to kiss him lightly on the lips.

“So you did,” she said, sitting down in the driver’s seat and closing the door.

She waited while he dashed around the front of the car and hopped into the passenger seat.

“So the next question is, what do we wanna eat?” he asked as he buckled his seatbelt and she started the car.

“I have a craving for Chinese,” Violet replied, putting the car in drive and heading back out onto the main road.

“Good call. There’s a place up the street about six blocks. Want me ta call ahead?” Peyton asked, whipping out his smart phone and tapping at the screen.

“Sure,” she replied. “General Tso’s works for me. And a veggie eggroll.”

“Gotcha,” he responded, bringing the phone up to his ear.

She stopped at the closest gas station while he ordered their food. As she was pumping the gas, he hopped out, explaining he had to go to the bathroom and asked her if she wanted something to drink. She told him a fountain diet Coke was fine and blushed as he kissed her before he jogged into the station.

Violet couldn’t help but smile to herself as she watched him go through the doors. Everything with him felt so natural and easy. She guessed it helped that they’d already hung out extensively prior to “going official” as Desmond would have called it. Is that what she and Peyton were? Had they really gone official?

As Peyton emerged from the gas station with a couple of diet Cokes, she smiled at him. In that moment, she decided that she was totally overthinking this whole thing. She didn’t have to put a label on things. He’d already hinted that he wanted to be considered her lover. She actually liked thinking of him that way. He smiled as they got back in the car and put their Cokes in the center console drink holder.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Absolutely!” she replied, putting the car in drive.

She listened while he talked about some of the upcoming fights for fighters in both their camps. He was worried about the two fighters in her camp that had to cut weight. Violet wasn’t.

“They’ll be all right,” she said at length. “Adams is running 7 miles a day in a sweat suit and pretty much living off Ensure and Mathias is already almost down.”

“Mathias is? He looks like he’s too heavy,” Peyton said as she pulled into the Jade Garden’s takeout parking spot.

“He’s only got ten to lose. I know, he looks bigger. He’s been working his ass off, though. I think he’s in his best shape ever,” Violet replied, opening her door.

“Hey darlin’, I got this. I’ll be right back out. They only had a ten-minute wait. Wish the movie theater was as busy as they are,” Peyton stopped her, opening his own door. “Be back out in a minute.”

She watched him go, unable to keep the goofy grin from her lips. He looked so good that evening. All bright and cheerful, calm and steadfast as he always was. She really did like that shirt on him. It fit snugly in all the right places.

She blushed as she realized how good his derriere looked in those jeans and quickly averted her gaze. Then it occurred to her how silly it was that they’d dressed identically without even thinking. She barely finished the thought, when he appeared at the door again, carrying two paper bags with the restaurant’s logo on them. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d only be a minute.

“So how did Mathias do it?” he asked as soon as they hit the road again.

“What? Cut weight?” she queried, glancing over at him.

“No, get so ripped without being over,” Peyton asked.

“I am not all that familiar with his diet. Manuel has been overseeing that part of his training.”

“Hmm,” he grunted in response. “I’ll have to see what Manny has him on.”

“I know he’s cut all animal products and byproducts from his diet completely. What exactly he’s doing beyond that, I don’t know.”

“Aww, hell. I can’t do that,” Peyton laughed. “I like my steaks too much.”

Violet laughed as well, saying, “That’s what Dezzy said when Manny tried to talk him into it.”

“Yeah, but Dezzy can afford to be big. Light Heavyweights and Heavyweights have it so easy.”

“Not really. A guy that weighs in at 225 all muscle could kill a guy that weighs in at 260 with love handles.”

Peyton laughed again, “Well yeah, but it’s not like Dezzy’s got a bunch of fat. That kid is cut.”

Violet nodded in agreement, smiling when Peyton took her hand as she rested it on the shifter. They rode in silence the rest of the way to the little park, set away from the hustle and bustle of the biggest commercial area of the city. His thumb traced lazy, meandering patterns over her palm, sending little icy hot thrills through her blood. He reluctantly released it when she moved to shift the car into park.

“Crap, I forgot to think about a picnic blanket,” Peyton said as they exited the car.

He grabbed the food while she grabbed the drinks, watching her move around the car.

“No worries,” she said, closing her car door and setting the drinks on the roof. She popped the trunk. “I have a blanket back here.”

She yanked the small quilt out from under the myriad stuffs that littered the small cavern and closed the trunk lid before snatching up the drinks.

The park was quietly busy, most of the thoroughfare occupied by joggers, cyclists, rollerbladers, and walkers getting their nightly exercise done before retiring to their homes. Most of them were silent as they passed through, listening to music or podcasts through ear buds or headphones, and oblivious to anything that wasn’t directly in their lines of sight.

A few small families and couples littered the park’s grounds, occupying picnic tables and shady spots. Many were in the process of packing up to leave as Peyton and Violet chose a sunny spot near the pond. They would lose the light soon, but neither of them was too worried about it. For the time, it was the magic hour and Violet adored the early sunset light. Everything seemed bathed in gold and the light was so sweet, she could almost taste it on her tongue.

Peyton took the blanket from Violet and spread it out, waiting for Violet to sit down first. He watched her for a moment. She drew in a deep breath and held it, her eyes languidly scanning the vicinity, a sweet, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

She suddenly shifted, remembering where she was and what she was doing, and smiled sheepishly as she joined him on the blanket. Violet pulled out the food and chopsticks and handed Peyton his takeout box first. She noticed that he waited until she started eating before he dug into his own dish.

“How is it?” he asked after she’d taken a few bites.

“Heaven,” she replied with an eye roll for effect. The savory, spicy, slightly sweet sauce was perfect. “How’s yours?”

“Pretty damn good,” he replied, smiling as he speared a piece of what looked like beef with his chopstick and popped it into his mouth. “Wanna try a bite?”

Violet blushed and quietly said, “I guess I could.”

Peyton speared another piece of meat and a pepper onto one of his chopsticks and held it up. She leaned forward and allowed him to place it in her mouth. The flush of her cheeks grew slightly more pronounced as he watched her chew it, the intensity in his eyes doing funny things to her pulse. She returned the favor, spearing a piece of her chicken and feeding it to him. He smiled as he chewed, stroking the side of her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Have I told ya how beautiful ya are?” he whispered after he’d swallowed.

“Peyton—” she objected, picking up another morsel with her chopsticks and depositing it quickly in her mouth.

“I’m only speakin’ the truth, darlin’,” he said with an impish grin.

She swallowed before replying, “Thank you for making me feel… Alive again.”

He blushed slightly, bashfully looking away as he chopsticked another bit of his food in his mouth, though he couldn’t stop smiling if he tried. She chuckled softly and they finished their food in relative silence, watching as people bustled about the park, the sun quickly descending to the horizon in the west. Peyton rounded up the unwanted remnants of their meal and jogged over to the trash can. She watched him go, feeling the flush of subdued longing wash over her body.

Dusk slowly dimmed the brightness of the sinking sun around them, casting the edges of the horizon to the west in various shades of purple, orange, pink, and blue. The clouds blazed at the tips of their earth-facing sides. A star or two was visible in the deep blue directly above them. Violet heaved a contented sigh.

When Peyton returned moments later, he sat behind her, his legs around her hips and his arms around her waist. She rested the back of her head on his chest, her cheek brushing his jaw. They watched the sun start to set, each of them quietly lost to their own thoughts. He dropped his chin to rest on her shoulder and his breath softly whooshed by her ear and neck, unwittingly stoking the flames of the growing desire she had begun to harbor for him.

As the last fiery rays sank below the horizon, he planted soft kisses on her bared shoulder, his arms a welcome noose that tightened around her. She shivered and he held her even closer, his lips at her ear.

“I’ve wanted so much ta share this with ya for so long,” he huskily whispered, his voice cracking on the last couple words.

She turned in his embrace so that she could look out the corners of her eyes and meet his.

“I never thought I could have something like this again. Thank you for this, Peyton. I mean it.”

He leaned forward, turning her farther, his lips finding hers with an ease that left her breathless. He pulled away after a moment, his hand catching in the loose, dark chocolate-hued curls that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.

“Vi,” he breathed. “Ya light my way home. If ya would forgive the corniness of such a statement. I mean it. I’ve felt so lost and when I’m with you... I just…”

She was speechless. The intensity of his gaze, the proximity of his body and lips, the way he held her—it was almost too much for her to process. She moaned, whisper-soft, as his mouth ardently claimed hers again. That time, he moved them so that she lay on top of him. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair, his free arm pulling her body against him. The kiss lasted for what seemed like a blissful eternity. They came apart when she realized he was above her, their bodies entwined together.

The fiery orange horizon faded into the deep purple of night, more stars appeared, and there was no one left in the park but them and a few straggler walkers and runners. In the ever-deepening twilight, his eyes glowed, bright blue-green diamonds that reflected even the feeblest light with unrivaled brilliance. She reached up and stroked the side of his face with her palm, noting that in the growing darkness, his injuries looked much better.

“What’re ya thinkin’?” he whispered, caressing her cheek as he propped himself on his other elbow.

“I was thinking how dazzling your eyes are, and how much better your bruises look already,” she candidly replied, unable and unwilling to break the hold his gaze had on hers.

“It’s getting a bit colder and I don’t have a heavier shirt for ya ta wear. Plus, the mosquitoes are starting ta come out. Wanna get outta here?” he asked, changing gears and rolling off her.

He helped her sit up and wrapped his arms around her again.

“Let’s wait until more stars come out. Then we can go. Maybe we’ll see another shooting star and make another wish together,” Violet airily suggested, feeling euphoric and woozy after the onslaught of his particularly addictive, potent brand of kisses.

“We don’t need wishes,” he softly said, his voice deep and heady.

“You’re right,” she replied, resting her head on his shoulder and looking out over the glassy surface of the pond, which perfectly mirrored the night sky’s brilliance. “We’ve made our own paths.”

“I’m glad mine led me ta you.”

She pulled away to look in his eyes again, “I’m glad mine led me to you, too.”

He kissed her again, a sweet, soft, but equally ardent exchange that left her lightheaded anew. He held her possessively to him, his breath deep but heavy, and his heart thundered a strong, sweet rhythm against her own chest. His hands roamed over her back, his touch intensely inciteful through the silken fabric of her shirt. It burned her in the most beautifully conceivable manner. He brought her back to life with every kiss, every caress, and she wholly adored him for it.

When they at last pulled apart, the sky was much darker and several stars twinkled above. He stood and offered her his hand. She gladly took it, allowing him to haul her to her feet. They folded the blanket together and he carried it back to the car. Once they’d entered the vehicle, they sat in silence, looking deeply into each other’s eyes.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked at length, starting the car and donning her seatbelt.

“We could catch a movie now that the evening rush is over,” he suggested, though his inflection implied that he really didn’t care for the suggestion.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to deal with people tonight. I just want it to be you and me.”

He smiled at her, a brilliant, thousand-watt display that radiated both from his lips and his eyes.

“We could…head back ta your place and watch a movie there?”

Violet smiled and backed out of the parking space, saying, “I like that idea, Mr. Ashley.”

“I hoped you would, Miss Anderson.”

Peyton took her hand again as soon as they were back on the highway. He distractedly looked out the window, his thumb tracing those same lazy, erotic patterns on the surface of her palm, sometimes even grazing the extremely sensitive flesh on her wrist. She had no idea that such a simple touch could be so all-consumingly hot.

It was at least twenty minutes before they reached her apartment, and as she slid the car into park, Peyton hopped out the passenger side door, eagerly jogging around to open her door for her. She locked the car and waited while he grabbed his cell phone charger out of his truck. She allowed him to lead her up to her apartment, his movements urgent and restless, fueled by the desire to have her to himself. They made it up to her door and she moved to unlock it, only to find it wasn’t locked. She froze for a second, the gears in her mind failing to grab as she tried to figure out what was amiss. Peyton gently pushed her behind him.

“Stay here,” he softly commanded.

She nodded and watched him disappear inside, silent and fluid as a big cat stalking its prey. The darkness enshrouded him, taking him from view. She listened intently for a few moments, every muscle thrummed with tension and the roar of her blood in her ears was deafening.

He hadn’t made a single sound and it felt like hours had passed. Violet moved to walk into the darkness after a few more silent moments, but was stopped abruptly, startling when he suddenly appeared in front of her.

“No one here,” he said with a shrug and flipped on the light switch. “Nothin’s been touched—least as far as I can tell.”

She cautiously allowed him to lead her inside. He closed the door and locked all three locks, then threw the safety chain in place. She nodded in agreement at his actions and walked into the living room, plopping down unceremoniously on the couch and grabbing the remote to turn on the TV. He appeared next to her after turning out the light, making her jump slightly.

“It’s just me,” he softly voiced, taking her hands in his.

“Is there anything you might want to watch?” she asked nervously, still very shaken by the fact that her door was unlocked and that someone might have been in her apartment.

“Yeah,” he sighed, his breath ruffling her hair, “You.”

“Peyton,” she breathed, allowing him to pull her closer. “I know I locked the door.”

“I watched you. Maybe Dezzy came over for somethin’. He’s probably sleepin’ now. We can ask him at the gym in the mornin’.”

At that, Violet groaned.

“What?” Peyton chuckled.

“I think I’m taking a sick day tomorrow.”

“Oh really? Are ya allowed ta do that, now?”

Violet thumped him on the shoulder lightly with her closed fist.

“I should be able to! Seriously? You guys all have me on speed dial and as soon as someone so much as coughs or moves wrong, it’s ‘Vi, what do I do! Vi, come check this out! Vi, is it going to end my career?’” she said, moving her hands animatedly and making her voice shrill and nasally as she mimicked their whining.

Peyton burst out laughing and ruffled her hair, gruffly replying, “I’ve never done that.”

She kissed his cheek.

“No, I rather like it when you call.”

“Oh yeah?” he breathed, snaring her arms and placing them around his shoulders. “I love it when you call.”

Violet blushed, unable to escape the trap he’d made without it seeming as though she was rejecting his closeness. She decided in the end that what she tried to escape was what she had very much wanted. Still, she was quite uncomfortable with the fact that her door had been unlocked. It was a severe breach of her privacy and she was a particularly private person. She didn’t want to stay the night there. Not even if Peyton was in attendance.

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“What’s wrong? Where’d ya go?” he asked after a moment of intense silence had passed.

“Peyton, I don’t want to stay here,” she whispered, eyes darting around the room, the only light present offered up by the TV’s screen.

“Ya know, I don’t want ya to either. Come back ta my place. We’ll sort everything out in the mornin’ when we see Dezzy at the gym.”

“Ok just—let me get a change of clothes.”

He nodded and helped her off the couch, walking through the rest of the apartment checking things as she went into her bedroom. She heard him opening and closing doors. The soft thud of his feet on the thick carpet was surprisingly loud in the relative silence of the place.

Violet quickly jogged into her room, throwing open the closet and snatching out her old, dilapidated college backpack that she used as an overnight bag or carry on. She yanked a pair of jeans, a lilac-hued button-down poplin shirt, and one of her black and white track suits off their hangers and neatly rolled them before stuffing them in the bag. She grabbed a couple pairs of undergarments and socks, then snagged a couple matching bras and stuffed them in the bag as well. When finished, she snatched her bag of travel toiletries and accessories from under the bathroom counter and crammed it into the bag. Satisfied that she had her barest of necessities covered, she jogged back out into the living room where Peyton agitatedly paced.

“Ready darlin’?” he asked, his voice nonchalant though his eyes spoke of poorly concealed trepidation.

“Yes, just let me grab a pair of running shoes and I’ll be all set,” she replied snagging her favorite pair of green Nikes from the shoe rack next to the door. “Ready,” she said, grabbing her purse and keys off the counter.

“Alright. Wanna ride with me or drive separate?” he asked, following her to the door.

“Separate, just in case any emergencies arise,” she reluctantly replied, turning off the light as he opened the door.

“Okay,” he said, watching her lock the door and test it again.

“God, I feel so…violated,” Violet shuddered as he led her down the steps.

“I don’t like it one bit. I’m glad yer comin’ over ta my place tonight. Though I gotta apologize—it’s obviously a bachelor’s pad right now and I’ve been workin’ so hard trainin’ I haven’t had time ta tidy up,” he bashfully drawled, his hand on the small of her back as they alighted the steps and walked over to where their cars were parked.

“I’ve seen it at its worst, I’m sure. What are you worried about?”

“I know, but—I wanted ta make it, ya know, more presentable under the circumstances.”

Violet lightly thumped him on the shoulder and snorted, “Stop it. I like your place. It’s cozy.”

“Not as cozy as yours,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck as they stood next to her car.

Shivers went through her, stirring up the damn butterflies in her belly so they felt more like hummingbirds flitting about. He gently nipped her ear lobe, a novel move, his hand smoothing over her shoulder. She leaned into him, cupping his face in her hands and brushing the tip of her nose against his.

“Peyton,” she sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead.

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” he growled, interlacing his fingers with hers as her hands released his face.

“Here all this time, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own silly little—”

“Vi, it ain’t silly. And it ain’t little. Look,” he interrupted, pulling her back to him, his arms around her waist. “Ya lost your husband and baby in the same day. Y’all were happy. And then…poof. It was all gone. I understand, darlin’. I meant it when I said I wanted ta see ya happy.”

She smiled at him, unable to stem the tears that flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She brought her free hand to his jaw, caressing his cheek. The bruising was definitely less visible and the swelling in his eye was hardly noticeable anymore.

“And I know that there are things in your past, your history, that are just as bad if not worse. I wanna make you happy, Peyton.”

He seemed shell-shocked as he gaped back at her, his own eyes misting slightly.

“I don’t—talk about my past with just anyone. Ya know, I did… Some bad things. Things I wasn’t too proud of then, and I’m even more ashamed of now.”

“But that’s over. You’re with us now, and you’re going to be able to atone for all that. Make them pay for what they did by showing them it hasn’t gotten you down. You’re the best, and they’re just going to try and bring you down.”

He kissed her again, a short but infinitely passionate little outburst. She smiled at him, unable to keep the little bubble of laughter from reaching her lips.

“What?” he breathed, smiling as well.

“I think I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve kissed me, and it’s been less than twenty-four hours.”

“Darlin’, if I had my way, I’d never stop,” he chuckled, touching his thumb to her chin.

“I hate to say it, but we better get going. The farther I am from this place right now, the better,” she hesitantly breathed and he opened her door for her. “You know, I could get used to that.”

“Ya should,” he laughed as she sat in the driver’s seat and turned the car on. “I’ll see ya when we get ta my place.”

She nodded as he closed the door and waited for him to start his truck before following him out of the parking lot. The whole drive there, she went over and over in her head about the door. Had she not tested it right? Could it have been unlocked all night and she didn’t realize it? Had Dezzy come over for something? He liked to raid her supplies whenever he was injured rather than get his own. Should she call him? She looked at the clock on her dashboard. Jesus, how was it almost midnight already? She’d definitely take the day off tomorrow. It was all just too much. Manny would understand—she’d never asked for a day off.

They reached his apartment all too quickly. She hardly remembered the drive there. Her thoughts had consumed her, as they nearly always did. Tommy had always said she thought too much. He would laugh and hold her to him, asking her if he needed to call a bomb squad because her head was about to explode. She’d loved that about him. Tommy had always been so carefree and unworried about everything. Peyton reminded her of him so much that it was almost painful sometimes.

She parked next to him and quickly got out before he could reach her, dragging her trusty old pack and purse from the passenger seat beside her. She closed the door and jogged over to where Peyton waited. He opened the gate for her and took her backpack. He quickly latched the gate and followed her closely.

Being there with him and knowing that he’d keep her safe was a potent mood lifter. In spite of the dark turn of the night’s events, she wanted to forget it all. That night was just about her and Peyton. She didn’t want to worry about anything except making him happy, as he’d done for her. An impish smile lit her lips and she playfully swatted him on the back.

“Tag! You’re it!” she squealed, bolting for the porch.

She raced him to the door, laughing as he caught her and pinned her against it, one hand on either side of her as he collided with her.

“God damn, Vi,” he breathed against her mouth as their lips crashed together and she all but wrapped herself around him. “I—”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she rasped, sliding her fingers through his short hair and forcing his mouth back to hers.

He obliged, pushing her more forcefully against the door, continuing the tryst with reckless abandon. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, giving a playful tug as he fumbled to open the door. He tossed her bag on the floor as they stumbled inside together, running into his dining table as they rushed in. He stopped long enough to close and lock the door before colliding with her again, pushing her backwards and further into his house.

Violet’s knees buckled as they met a solid object and she fell back onto the enormous wrap-around sectional that served as the main furnishing of his living room, dragging him down top of her by his shirt collar. She had completely lost it. She didn’t want to think anymore, or wallow, or worry about anything. All she wanted right now was to lose herself in absolutely mindless, wanton bliss with him.

She tore at his shirt, dragging it up his back to his shoulders, her nails gently raking his skin as she did so. He groaned and sat up, tugging the confining piece of clothing up over his head and tossing it across the room.

“Hold on,” he huskily murmured as her hands grasped the belt buckle on his jeans.

They both panted heavily, as much from excitement as they did from exertion. She stopped as he had requested, smoothing her hands up his abdomen to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” she breathlessly asked.

“Is this too fast? Am I even awake?” he asked, moving so that he sat next to her rather than being above her.

Violet laughed in disbelief, sitting up and curling against him as she fought the fear of rejection. Maybe they weren’t ready for this. Her head reeled for a moment as she collected her thoughts.

“I’ve been emotionally dead for a few years. You’ve brought me back to life. If we’re going too fast, we can slow down. I just—”

“I’ve dreamt of this almost since the first night after I met ya. That first day in the gym—seeing ya standin’ there with Dezzy, Manny, and Gorski. Ya looked so unhappy, so broken, and so—beautiful despite it—I wanted nothin’ more than ta see ya smile,” he interrupted, holding her face in his hands, his eyes boring into hers.

“And now?” she asked in a whisper.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’ve…let me in like this. Let me into your life when ya wouldn’t give anyone else the time of day. Ya get so wrapped up in chasin’ a dream that when ya finally achieve it, ya just—can’t believe it’s real,” he gushed, his accent thickening as he rubbed his cheek against hers.

She smoothed her hands up his bare biceps, her eyes following her fingers as she tested the firmness of his musculature. He was solid, with little give. His skin was deceptively soft; cool velvet stretched over perfectly cut diamond. She reached his shoulders, still enthralled with the feel of him. As her hands slid perpetually south, she encountered the fine sheen of sweat over the rock-hard planes of his pectorals.

She didn’t meet his eyes as she spoke, her hands smoothing down his abdominals in innocent wonder.

“I didn’t tell you last night because I was so overwhelmed with everything else, but you were outstanding in your fight. And your hard work, your dedication—it really shows. I’m proud of you, Peyton. And I feel so lucky to have you.”

He caught her hands as they stopped at his belt again, her gaze slowly rising to meet his. He breathed heavily with restraint, his vivid green-blue eyes blazing. She allowed him to guide her arms up around his neck and he lifted her from the sofa.

“I’ve never been so motivated in my life. And thank ya. I had hoped ya’d notice,” he murmured as he scooped her completely into his arms, lifting her off the couch.

“Peyton—”

“I’m not makin’ love ta ya for the first time on a damn sofa, darlin’,” he answered her protest before she could finish making it.

Her head swam with the sudden understanding of what could happen. It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t the slightest bit casual. Neither one of them was the hook-up type.

What was it then?

It was—deeply personal. Intense. It was more than just the slaking of years’ worth of pent-up sexual tension. It was the demolition of walls; a true test of vulnerability and trust.

A flurry of silly trepidations whirled through her conflict-ridden mind then. What if she’d forgotten how to move? What to do? What if she was awful? She hadn’t been naked in front of a man in a long time and never one like Peyton. Even Tommy hadn’t been physically perfect as Peyton. Surely he could do better than the wasted vessel she’d become…

But “Oh,” was all she could manage as he laid her gently on the bed.

He closed the door, turned on the small work lamp that sat on his desk across the room to the dimmest setting, and turned on the air conditioning. It was an odd thing to do, she thought, but then again it would probably get very hot in there in a few minutes.

Her head swam, her pulse pounded a staccato, frenetic rhythm in her ears. She fought the knot of anxiety that coiled tightly within her abdomen at being alone with him this way, in his bedroom, with no distractions and no interruptions. He laid down next to her then, his hand sliding across the soft, flat expanse of her stomach, the flimsy fabric of the sheer peasant blouse adding an erotic flare to his touch. She arched into his touch, sighing softly.

“I haven’t worked out in—” she started as he began lifting the hem of her shirt.

“Shhhh. I’ve seen ya in a bikini at Manuel and Taylor’s, remember? Your body is heavenly,” he murmured, silencing her and tugging the shirt up over her head.

Before she could register what was going on, he had buried his face against her neck, the cool, hard planes of his body melting against her hotter, softer ones. The feel of his skin against hers, the euphoric sensation of his lips against her neck, of his hands burrowing into her hair… It was such a blissful sensory overload that she struggled to maintain her faculties. She felt drunk, but without the alcohol. High, without the physical drug.

His fingers snared in her hair. He pulled her head back to bare her throat and chest to him, opening her body for his exploration. His hand slid behind her back and deftly unclasped her bra. She moaned and arched against his touch when he firmly cupped her breasts and buried his face between them. Their bodies began slowly grinding against each other then, writhing in their efforts to incite each other.

“God damn, Vi,” he whispered, his mouth finding hers again.

*****

They lay there for what seemed a blissful eternity, locked in the most intimate of embraces. He rolled so that she had her back to him once more, curling his body protectively and possessively around hers. He kissed her shoulder every few seconds and buried his face in her hair, unable to say anything while he struggled to regain his breath.

She was in much the same boat. Her heart hammered wildly against her sternum. Her lower belly throbbed hotly in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Her lips were swollen and tender from his onslaught. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed that. How badly she’d needed him. As their vitals rapidly slowed to normal, the realization she’d made earlier came to the forefront of her sex-beleaguered mind.

Violet rolled to face him, barely able to see his visage in the low light. She blinked and instinctively covered her eyes with her hand when he reached over and clicked on the lamp on his nightstand. Oh, how quickly he’d read her mind. She felt him move beside her, disappearing for a moment but returning immediately.

She let her eyes become accustomed to the light and slowly drew her gaze up to meet his. He had an arm behind his head, unintentionally displaying the impressive curve of his ridiculously strong tricep and the backside of the elaborate, intricate dragon tattoo that ensnared it. He still breathed heavily and his eyelids were drawn half closed. He offered her a soft, adoring smile of contentment.

“Can we do that every time?” he playfully asked, his half-lidded eyes lazily devouring her naked form.

Violet laughed, throwing her head back on the pillow as her arm instinctively covered her breasts. He moved then, drawing her arm away from her body so that he could see her unencumbered form in its entirety.

“If we do that every time, I think I’ll die,” she said after a moment of deep, searching eye lock with him.

“Not an entirely bad way to go,” he chuckled, stretching and lying on his stomach, his head turned towards her.

She mimicked his movements and sighed when he ran one of his hands down her back, his fingertips traversing the long, shallow indent of her spine.

“So. I was thinking,” she murmured after a moment.

“Hmm?” he asked sleepily, curling his arm so that he could rest his chin at the crook of his elbow.

“I realized last night that I need you in my life.”

He perked up then and beamed at her, one eye showing above the fluffy contours of his pillow and the harder ones of his arm.

“I like that realization.”

She laughed, “I figured as much. But then tonight, after we…talked, I had another revelation of sorts.”

“And?” he asked, his voice much softer and worry furrowing his handsome brow.

“You—need me just as much as I need you.”

It was his turn to laugh; the bitter sound of which was designed to cover an underlying ache so excruciating, he chose the laughter over tears.

“Of course I do, Vi. I needed ya before ya needed me. Ya just didn’t know me soon enough. But it’s all right now,” he said, then repeated it as if to reassure himself more than her as he rolled onto his back, “It’s all right now.”

She reached over and stroked his chest, stopping when her fingertips located the strong thud of his pulse right above his heart. She looked up at his face and noticed that his eye began to swell again.

“It is. You sign with us tomorrow, and you’re done with Intimidation Factor.”

“With you, I can accomplish anythin’,” he whispered, drawing her to him again, his body covering hers.

She moaned against his shoulder as he continued pressing white-hot kisses along her collar bone, his hand slipping between her thighs.

“Peyton—not yet, honey,” she pleaded, sighing as he gently stroked her. “You need to ice that eye.”

He pulled away to look down at her, a lazy, content smile lighting his countenance as he reluctantly removed his fingers.

“Yeah, it is stingin’ a little bit.”

“It sure is,” she muttered.

“I didn’t mean ta make ya sore,” he apologized, hugging her to him as they sat up in the bed.

“Oh, it’s a beautiful brand of sore,” she reassured him, kissing him lightly on the lips.

“Did I make ya happy, then?” Peyton asked, pressing his lips to her palm as she retreated slightly.

“Very much so,” Violet breathed, still overwhelmed by the way he looked at her.

He smiled and slid to the edge of the bed, standing and walking over to the large cherry bureau across the room. She stole the chance to surreptitiously watch him and admired his physique; the way his muscles slipped so fluidly beneath his skin, their sharp definition, and the few tattoos that brandished his smooth, flawless skin. She had seen his tattoos hundreds of times in the gym, but never really studied them.

The design that encompassed his entire upper right arm was of a snarling, coiled, ice blue wyvern spitting blue flame. It curled around his bicep and tricep from elbow to shoulder, its head covering the better part of his deltoid’s curve. It was a work of art and quite unique in design, each scale, eye, tooth, and claw meticulously and flawlessly detailed. It looked real; the dragon an extension of Peyton’s true being, waiting to lash out at any who challenged him.

Circling his left bicep was something done in sprawling, beautiful script, interlaced with an intricate, wispy, tribal pattern. She couldn’t quite make it out until he turned a little bit, pulling out one of the drawers on his dresser. He’d just gotten that one recently with Dezzy; she remembered they’d planned on getting tattoos together, sort of a bonding of brothers deal. Veritas Vincit. Truth conquers, she thought. It was Latin, and something Dezzy used to say all the time when he wrestled in college and people doubted his ability. She had to smile; she’d worried at first that Peyton would be a bad influence on Dezzy. But it had been Dezzy who assumed the role of influencer—and a good one at that.

Across Peyton’s wide shoulder blades sprawled a sapphire blue tribal design, its curves and points made to look as though they were made of ice. Droplets seemingly slipped off the design, frozen in their suspension on his skin. It was almost as though the artwork had been smeared in water across his skin and frozen upon contact. She liked it. It suited him.

She found her eyes traveling down the chiseled expanse of his back to the perfectly round, sculpted curve of his derriere. He turned then, catching a glimpse of the way her eyes raked over him. She blushed and immediately cast her gaze downward, embarrassed at being caught so openly admiring him.

“You’re so pretty when you blush. Just what were ya lookin’ at, darlin’?” he gently teased, tugging a pair of clean boxers up his legs.

He tossed her a clean hoodie and a clean pair of his shorts before she could reply. She hurriedly donned them, keeping her eyes downcast for the moment, knowing that he watched her in his trademark intense fashion.

“I was—admiring your tattoos,” she managed under his continued gaze, mustering the strength to meet it.

“I figured as much,” he said, a soft smile gracing his lovely mouth. “My nickname in the ring is Ice, so I embraced the moniker. Got the design on my back first about a year and a half ago. Then, right before I made the move ta Vegas, I got the dragon,” he said, sitting beside her on the bed. He looked at his left bicep. “And ya know where this one comes from,” he softly said with a smile.

“I like them,” she replied simply.

“I like yours, too,” he whispered, indicating the green, black, and white wrap around her ankle. “Why’d ya get that?”

She sighed, allowing him to push her back on the bed again so that they both lay on their sides facing each other. She propped herself up on her elbow and smiled down at him.

“Tommy. His family was Irish. His grandpa came over to the U.S. when Tommy’s father was a boy. It’s a Celtic design for strength and I had them add the rosettes for a feminine touch. He always told me he knew I was strong since I could put up with him,” she laughed softly, eyes glazing in her moment of reverie. “I never had to ‘put up’ with him. He was strong willed, yes, but never in a way that troubled me.”

“Let me ask ya somethin’. If it’s too personal for ya, just tell me so. Why didn’t ya take back your maiden name after—after he passed?”

Violet’s brows knit together for a moment as she thought about it, as though she considered it seriously for the first time.

“I’ve thought about it,“ her throat constricted and she quickly swallowed the sudden lump before continuing as the force of the raw emotions flowing through her threatened to steal her breath, “I just wasn’t ready to let go of him.”

“I understand darlin’,” Peyton almost apologetically stated. “I was just curious. What about that little symbol on your shoulder?” he murmured, sliding his hand beneath the shirt and resting it on her hip.

She had a Japanese symbol done in a red, purple, and black airbrushed fade on the back of her right shoulder, making the symbol look as though it was a curling, wispy plume of dark maroon smoke on her skin, accented on either side by tribal wisps.

“That one I got my last year in college. It’s the Japanese symbol for love,” she replied, her breath catching in her throat at the way he looked at her, like she was the single most important thing on the planet.

“Strength and love,” he breathed, pulling her on top of him. “But where is beauty?”

“I’m not—”

He fiercely kissed her, his fingers tangling in her already wildly disheveled hair.

When they surfaced for air, tears slid down her cheeks. He unsnared his fingers to catch one before it fell from her chin and flicked it off his fingertip.

“Ya are ta me,” he said, kissing the rest of her tears away. “You’re—beauty personified,” he feverishly whispered, his breath washing over her face in tepid puffs as his lips tenderly followed.

She smiled down at him, once again noting the swelling of his eye.

“We should get some ice on that,” she said at length.

“Is that what we were doin’?” he chuckled, allowing her to dismount him and stand.

He took the hand she proffered and stood in front of her.

“I have no clue what we were doing. You tend to rob me of my ability to focus,” she chided, lacing her fingers through his as they moved for the bedroom door.

“I know what ya mean,” he jibed back with a playful smirk.

They walked out to the kitchen together and she went to the icebox to fix up a bag of ice for his eye. She wrapped the bag in a clean dish cloth he procured for her out of one of the drawers in his kitchen and handed it to him. He inclined his head in the direction of the sofa, offering her his hand. She took it, allowing him to lead her to the loveseat portion of the enormous sectional. He pulled her down next to him, his arm going over her shoulder.

“Shit. It’s late, Peyton,” Violet murmured, looking at the digital clock on his TV’s cable box display.

He flipped on the TV and looked over at her, “I thought you weren’t going to the gym?”

“I’ve got two fighters who have fights in five days. I have to be there for them.”

“Manny knows their schedules just as well as they do. A day off for you isn’t going to derail them.”

She sat up and thumped him playfully on the chest with a closed fist.

“You above all people know that a day off could very easily derail them. You just want to keep me captive here, all to yourself.”

He grinned, his eyes happily unashamed as he snorted, “I plead guilty, yer honor.”

Violet laughed and allowed him to pull her back to him, resting her head on his chest.

“You’re terrible, Peyton,” she giggled.

“Ya don’t mean that,” he softly said, combing his fingers through her hair and removing many of the tangles he’d caused with their earlier activities.

“No, I don’t,” she whispered back.

They both jumped when Violet’s phone rang and startled them. She quickly popped up from the sofa and ran to the kitchen where her purse was thrown haphazardly on the counter. Plucking the small contraption from her purse’s maw, she answered.

“Hello?”

“I’m not feelin’ so hot. I don’t think I’m going to go to training tomorrow,” Desmond’s voice came over the speaker.

“You’re not supposed to be there anyway! What’s wrong? Are you having trouble breathing?”

“Oh hush. It’s nothing like that. I’m just wore out, sore all over, and just need some rest I think.”

Violet sighed in relief, “Well of course. You’re injured, Dez. You shouldn’t be training now. Please, just do as the doc said. Do as I say. Three weeks at least, no training.”

“I might just do that,” he weakly said, yawning audibly. “So did you have fun with Peyton tonight?”

“We had a fantastic night,” she gushed, her eyes finding Peyton’s across the room. He beamed at her. “How was your date with Brie?”

“Awesome. I kissed her. It was…nice.”

“Just nice?”

He laughed, “Vi, I love you, but I’m so not discussing my sex life with you.”

“Fair enough,” Violet replied with a giggle of her own, but it quickly faded as she steeled herself to make her next query. “Hey—I have a question for you.”

“Shoot, but be quick. I’m going to bed soon.”

“Okay, I just need to know if you were in my apartment tonight after I’d left with Peyton.”

“What? Why would I have been there? I was out with Brie.”

Violet froze and Peyton walked over, his arm circling her shoulders protectively.

“Vi? What’s going on?” Desmond worriedly asked.

Peyton took the phone.

“Dez, someone was in Vi’s apartment after we left tonight. I saw her lock the door and even test it to make sure. It was unlocked when we got back.”

“Holy shit! Are you guys there now? Did you call the cops?”

“We’re at my place. Vi didn’t want to stay and I wasn’t going to let her anyway. We didn’t want to call the cops until we knew whether or not you’d been there.”

“That’s seriously no good. Was anything taken?”

“Not that we can tell, no. Nothing was touched. It was just unlocked.”

“That’s fucking creepy. Is stalker guy out on parole?”

Violet shook her head and said loud enough for Dezzy to hear, “He has three months before he’s even up for the earliest possible parole date.”

“Tay has a key. Maybe she stopped by or something?” Desmond suggested.

“That’s a possibility, but I doubt it,” Peyton said. “Tay would have texted or called first.”

“True. I don’t know man. I’d check with Manny and Tay first thing in the morning, and if it wasn’t them, call the cops. That’s just not good at all.”

“We’ll be doing that.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m gonna head to bed. You be good to my sister, bro. And tell her I love her. Good night.”

“I will. G’night bro,” Peyton replied.

He ended the call and handed Violet her phone. She took it and put it in her purse again before turning her attention back to Peyton.

“Tay could have—but I don’t think she was there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it was her either,” Peyton said, drawing her back into his embrace and looking down into her eyes. “Dez told me ta be good ta ya and that he loves ya.”

Violet touched his cheek, “You are good to me. And I know he does.”