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With one final thrust, I shattered around him, my orgasm ripping through me like a tidal wave. He reached for my nipple and pinched, taking my pleasure to an even higher level.
Frankie moaned as I tightened around him, his thrusts becoming erratic as he reached his own release. He murmured my name, our bodies slick with sweat as we struggled to catch our breath.
We stayed like that for a few moments, our bodies still intimately connected. Frankie’s head was buried in my neck, his breath hot against my skin. His heart pounding against mine slowly returned to a normal rate.
Eventually, Frankie pulled out of me, disposed of the condom, then collapsed back into the driver’s seat. I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder as we both recovered from the intensity of our encounter.
The radio was still playing in the background, a haunting melody that seemed to mirror the calm after the storm. Frankie traced lazy patterns on my back with his hand, his touch soothing and comforting. Contentment radiated off him, a stark contrast to the tension from earlier.
I lifted my head to look at him, our eyes meeting. There was a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability I hadn’t seen since leaving the fight. It was a side of Frankie he rarely showed, and it made my heart clench.
“Frankie,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“Hmm?” he responded, his eyes never leaving mine.
“We’re making the right choice with the gym. We are. I feel it in my gut.”
Frankie’s hand stilled on my back. “Well, we started down this path. Let’s see where it fucking takes us.”
Chapter 3
Ari
Iloved the way sweat looked on a body.
The way it glistened on lean flesh and toned muscles. Sweat represented hard work, dedication, drive, and power. Sweat on an athlete’s body accentuated every inner quality the person possessed—the very best qualities.
I had grown up around sweat. I saw what it took to earn every drop. I’d spent all my time as a child in my father’s gym—Smiley’s. I’d watched fighters train, fight, struggle, and claw their way to the top all while my father pushed them harder. Smiley’s was the best gym around, and my father had been the most highly coveted trainer. He was the famous Smiley Dexter. Oftentimes, his name was more respected than the boxer he was training.
But since my father’s passing, the gym was now in my and Frankie’s hands. It was now our job to make the bodies sweat. It was our job to maintain the legacy that once was, even if it meant morphing it to change with the times.
Yes, Frankie had a point. My father would have resisted underground cage fighting, but he wouldn’t have wanted the business to slip through our fingers either.
My father had given his life to the sport of fighting, and now it was our turn to do the same. Smiley’s, and the fighters working for a shot at someday becoming a champion had become my everything.
I refused to fail. I refused to see my father’s dream fade to nothing. I’d do whatever needed to be done.
Did my life in the gym require sacrifice? Of course. There were a few things missing… normalcy. Dating, future husband, kids, and a picket fence were not in my future. I’d ruled that out of my tarot cards a long time ago.
You would think that living in a man’s world, it would be easy. Hot bodies around me day and night, all at their peak fitness, I truly lived in a girl’s fantasy environment. One would think I had plenty of men to choose from, but it didn’t really work like that for me.
My first issue was professionalism. I couldn’t dip the pen in company ink, so to speak. My second issue was Frankie—with him around, everyone did their best to avoid me. Everyone knew Frankie and I weren’t a traditional couple. We were far from exclusive, and we were not boyfriend and girlfriend sending each other love notes. But it was safer for them, and if they valued their place in the gym, every man knew not to fuck with Frankie’s possession. Overprotective, borderline-obsessed, and just an outright asshole, I quickly became off limits.
Before Frankie, no one had dared even steal a glance my way because of my father. He’d trusted few, and his constant scowl had kept people away. Frankie was the only one, other than me, who’d held a place in my father’s heart.
My third issue was being friend zoned. The men I had liked ended up treating me as just another one of the guys or even as a kid sister. Good ol’ Ari. Sweet, innocent Ari. And once I’d learned how to fight just as well as most of them, I’d became bad ass, don’t mess with Ari or she’ll beat your ass.
