by Ciz, Alley
She pushed up onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “This. A lot more of this.”
Good. Because whether she was aware of it or not, she was now his and he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rocky let herself into her apartment, happy to see it was only occupied by Becky and Gemma at the moment. For the past week, she had spent more nights sleeping at Gage’s place than her own.
Everything about the last seven days had been surreal.
Becky looked up from where she was cutting fruit to take to book club later and gave her a knowing smirk, then nudged Gemma, who was pulling trays of bacon out of the oven.
“Did you have a nice night?” Gemma sing-songed.
“I’d say. Look at her face. I don’t think her smile could be any bigger,” Becky mocked.
“Shut up.” Her cheeks heated, giving her away.
“You do know we are going to need details,” Gemma said while arranging the bacon on a platter.
“Yeah, like right now, and don’t leave anything out.” Becky placed the fruit into containers.
Nope, not gonna happen.
“The dirtier, the better.”
“Hey, where are you going?" Becky called. "Don’t think you are getting out of this. We know where you live."
She walked down the hall to her room, laughing at her friends, knowing they meant every word and this would only be a temporary reprieve.
All week, they’d been pressuring her for details, but she had remained uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the things that happened between Gage’s sheets.
And in his shower.
And in his kitchen.
And there might have also been that time in his living room.
She shut the door to her room, heading straight for her bathroom and stripping off her clothes on the way. As she waited for the water to heat up, she took in her reflection in the large mirror. She had beard burn along her neck and across her chest. Her nipples looked bruised from Gage’s attention.
Is that a hickey on my boob?
She grinned at the thought of being marked by him. Hooking her thumbs in the sides of her underwear, she pulled them down and noticed a second hickey on the inside of her thigh.
Damn, the man was good.
It was a miracle they hadn’t been outed at the gym yet.
With steam billowing out from under the glass door of the shower, she pulled up her Singing in the Shower playlist on Spotify, singing along to Inner Circle’s “Sweat (A La La La La Long),” and stepped inside. Grabbing her special blue shampoo, she squirted a generous amount on her palm and worked it into her long locks. Watching the blue suds run down her body and down the drain, she smiled, thinking of how amazing it was when she and Gage had finally managed to take the shower they missed a couple of weeks ago. She conditioned her hair then clipped it up. It would be so much nicer to have him washing her body right now rather than using a plain loofah with body wash.
An arm snaked around her middle and she shrieked before melting into the hard chest behind her.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, babe.” Gage dropped a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin on the back of her neck.
Since their first night together, he would casually slip in calling her pet names and she absolutely loved it. It was crazy to think how connected she felt to him after such a short amount of time, but with a best friend as a romance writer, she decided it was probably best to roll with it. The Disney lover in her wasn’t about to question a possible happily ever after.
“What are you doing here?” When she tried to turn around to face him, he stopped her, taking the loofah from her hands and running it over her body.
“I missed you.”
The puff stroked across her collarbone in a sensual caress.
“I’ve barely been gone from your place for five minutes.” Her voice hitched on the last word as he circled one boob then the other.
“Long enough.” More kisses against her neck that sent an electric tingle down her spine. “Plus, I needed to shower too. I figured we could help wash each other’s backs.”
“How eco-friendly of you,” she teased.
“Fuck that. The things I have planned for this shower are the furthest thing from conserving water.”
His dirty promises sent a flood of wetness between her legs.
Her head canted down so she could watch his thumb brush the suds away from the love bite on her breast.
“I marked you.” His voice held a hint of pride.
“There’s also one on my inner thigh.” She rested back against his shoulder as he slipped the loofah down her stomach and between her legs.
“Gotta make sure you’re nice and clean.”
The loofah hit the floor of the shower.
He spun her around and dropped to his knees in front of her. Before she could register what was happening, he had his face buried in her pussy and she was halfway to another orgasm.
The clip in her hair lost the battle against the water pressure and her hair tumbled down as she threw her head back, stifling a moan as she came for the third—or fourth, she had no idea, she'd lost count—time for the day.
Her fingers curled uselessly against his head, and she again cursed the lack of length to his hair.
Luckily, he read her well enough to stand from his crouch, lifting her in his arms on the way and pinning her against the shower wall. The tile was cold on her hot skin and she whistled through her teeth but quickly forgot about it as his tongue invaded her mouth while his cock did the same below.
Wall sex had become one of her favorite ways to do it. The ridiculous muscles and strength he had from years of training were certainly put to the test. At five-ten, she'd never really felt all that dainty when she was with a guy, but that was exactly how he made her feel.
She’d had some good sex in her life, great sex even, but nothing in her past compared to the fireworks Gage made her see every single time they were together.
He bit her shoulder as he came with her. He might be a fighter, but she had a feeling he was about to complete his hat trick of hickeys on her body.
* * *
Wrapped in a towel, Gage sat himself on the edge of Rocky’s bed, regretting not thinking ahead enough to grab a set of clean clothes before coming over to crash her shower. Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal, but he could already hear the chorus of voices on the other side of the closed bedroom door.
“You going to get dressed? Or is this some type of fashion statement?” Rocky joked, lifting the edge of his towel.
She stood before him in one of her bajillion pairs of leggings, these a simple black pair, but there was nothing simple about what they managed to do for her legs and ass. Most girls put on slinky dresses to draw a man’s eye—and he’d seen her dressed like that as well, he got hard thinking of how she looked in her black dress that night they all went out to The Lounge—but to him, there was nothing sexier than Rocky in athletic wear.
“I forgot to grab something clean to change into.”
“A little impatient this morning, were we?” A knowing smile pulled at the corner of her lips.
“Yes. You could say I was highly motivated to get here as quickly as possible.”
His hands made themselves at home at the dip of her waist, his thumb tracing along the shapes of her tattoo. The artist who did the work was supremely talented—each leaf and petal looked almost three dimensional.
“You know, I don’t think I ever asked you if your tattoo meant anything.” He continued to trace the shape of the ivy leaves weaved throughout the entire piece.
“I guess it isn’t as obvious as yours,” she said, running a finger down one of the tentacles of his octopus, the tattoo he got to represent his fighting nickname—The Kraken. He loved when she put her hands on him. There was something about her touch that inspired a raging sense of lust while simultaneously soothing him. He may not understand it, but he accepted it
as part of his growing feelings for her.
“Well, I get this one.” He took her right hand in his, bringing it to his mouth and dropping a gentle kiss over the tiny witch’s hat inked at the top of her wrist.
“Yeah.” Her voice was breathy and her pulse fluttered beneath his lips. “It was this or a brand. And we figured a tattoo was prettier.”
He chuckled against her skin.
“Okay…stop having squirrel brain and tell me about this one.” He released her hand so it could go back to following the tribal patterns of his ink.
“Hey.” Her hand lightly smacked his biceps. “It’s your fault I have squirrel brain. Don’t make fun.”
“How do you figure?” He smirked at her trying to blame it on him. Then again, he was a man, he should be used to being blamed for things, regardless if it was warranted or not.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have any functioning brain cells left after what you did to me in your bed, then in my shower this morning. If I had a battery gauge, it would be flashing red right now.”
His smirk turned into a full-fledged grin at her words. He was damn proud of how loud he had her screaming his name earlier. The days that he woke up with her in his bed were quickly becoming his favorite of the week. Nothing beat being wrapped up in the limbs of his very own quadrapus.
“Blue, focus.” He squeezed her side. “Tattoo.”
“Oh. Right.” She giggled and looked down at his hand still tracing along her tattoo. “So the aloe plant”—she moved to push down the waist of her leggings so his thumb could rest on the plant inked on top of her hip bone—“represents healing.”
That made sense—she was a healer.
“The hyacinths”—she moved his hand so it could span across the pink and purple flower tattooed lower on the other side of her ribcage closest to her back and the orange and the blue one placed higher on her ribs, closer to the top of her stomach—“they stand for playfulness, and games and sports.”
Also obvious since she worked in the sports field and was one of the most playful people he'd ever met.
“The honeysuckle and ivy”—she released his hand so it could follow the path of white and yellow flowers weaved with green leaves throughout the entire design—“are woven together because one represents friendship and the other the bonds of love. And for me, I can’t have one without the other.”
He understood that about her as well. In just his first day at the gym, he saw how close those from The Steele Maker were. They were family, all of them, regardless of blood ties. It took him a while to come to terms with how tight they were, but now that he'd opened himself up to them, he had a hard time imagining how he managed going twenty-seven years without friendships like theirs.
Her tattoo was the perfect representation of how fiercely she loved the people closest to her. And as jealous as he had been at first of her relationship with Jase, he'd learned to accept that was just the type of person she was and he respected her for it.
“It sums you up perfectly.” He tugged her closer, into the space between his knees so he could trail a path of kisses around her belly. “Why flowers?”
Her nails—still painted black from Halloween the week before—bit into the skin of his trapezoids as he continued to tease the sensitive skin along her ribcage.
“I’ve grown up in a tough world—not that I had it rough—I mean fighting is a gritty sport. And with my focus always being on sports in general, I wanted something softer as a showcase.”
“I think it’s perfect.” He grasped her ass and pulled her onto his lap. “Like you.” He placed a kiss on her nose.
An obnoxious staccato of knocks pounded against her bedroom door, breaking the moment.
“Yo, lovebirds!” Vince’s voice bellowed from his side of the door. “Breakfast.”
“Yeah, stop fucking long enough to eat. Gage needs to keep up his caloric intake,” Deck added.
“Dude.” Gage assumed the sound of flesh hitting flesh was Vince smacking Deck upside the head. “I. Do. Not. Want to hear about my sister having sex.”
“What?” Deck tried to sound innocent. “You know she’s been having sex sin—”
“Okay, you guys!” Rocky shouted. “We’ll be right out. Now go away.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck, muttering something about getting retribution.
To his disappointment, she climbed from his lap—probably for the best so he didn’t end up taking her yet again—to finish getting dressed. She pulled on a loose-necked sweater, the same shade of gray as her eyes, adjusting the opening to hang over the shoulder not sporting his latest love bite. The front of the sweater had black letters reading, “Bookmarks are for quitters”—obviously she was dressing for the occasion, as she was dragging him along to his first book club with the group later that evening.
Sitting around in a towel, he was not dressed for any occasion, especially not the trip back to his place. Screw it. Making sure the pewter-colored terry cloth was securely knotted on his hips, he strode from the room with his girl.
The guys catcalled and the girls whistled as he made a hasty retreat.
He was really growing fond of the jerks.
Almost as fond as he was of a certain raven-haired beauty with eyes like storm clouds.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gage marveled at the gray and tan bricked mansion, with its large white columns bracketing the door and the black shutters. He knew a piece of real estate like this one in New Jersey went for a pretty penny, but instead of the massive structure looking ostentatious, it had an almost homey feel to it.
When Rocky rolled down her window to punch in the code to the gate, it didn’t surprise him at all. No, it would have been more shocking if The Coven didn’t have access to each other’s homes. He remained unsurprised when she did the same on the keypad at the front door.
A large black lab greeted them at the front door, barking like crazy at all the new visitors until Rocky gave him a command to sit, and he promptly melted at her feet, rolling to his back for a belly rub.
Obviously as comfortable in the Donovan home as they were back at their condos, everyone tromped through the foyer, down a long hallway, and into a large great room with vaulted ceilings. It looked like furniture had been added and arranged around the room so they all would be able to sit in a circle for their book discussion.
When Rocky first handed him the paperback with the picture of a half-naked guy resting his head against that of a pretty girl and the purple text of the title, he thought she was out of her damn mind.
When he expressed his concerns—who the hell was he kidding, he balked because of some misguided male ego—she laughed, like in his face, bent over guffaws of laughter. After she managed to regain her composure, she explained that everyone—all the athletes from the gym, their hockey playing friends, and Maddey’s military brothers—participated in their romance book club. Apparently, the guys first read Maddey’s books to support her when she launched her career, but they quickly became converts to the romance genre way.
He had to admit, when he finished reading Maria Luis’s Body Check, a novel about a hockey team named the Boston Blades, he was hooked and had already started reading the books before it in the series.
“You guys are gonna hurt my tough-guy fighter reputation if it ever gets out that I’m a romance book junkie,” he grumbled into Rocky’s ear.
“Please.” She rolled her eyes at him. “We really need to get you a better social media presence. Because if you paid attention to it at all, you would see all the guys post to support Maddey’s books and their top picks. Most of them have posed as cover models for her.”
“Yeah, they have,” Maddey said with a Cheshire grin as they walked toward her. “I have life-sized cardboard cutouts of them decorating my office where I write at home.”
“And we may or may not mess with them and make their antics go viral,” Skye said, filling up wine glasses in the kitchen off to the left.
He gave them an
incredulous look, but every man in the room was nodding that it was true.
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I hired you two to manage all my stuff for me,” he said to Jordan and Skye.
“Oh, don’t you worry, we’ve got you covered,” Jordan said, bouncing a baby in her arms. He had no idea which one of the twins it was. “We’ve already been fielding calls interested in some promotion with you and Vince because of his upcoming fight.”
“Later we will have to discuss some things because The Cutter has been posting all sorts of shit trying to get you to rematch,” Skye said.
Fucking Cutter. The asshole had been a thorn in his side since the moment he took the belt from him. Even now, his hand unconsciously went to his hip thinking of the pressure he was trying to put on him to fight him again. The UFC was chomping at the bit to get him to agree.
Sure, it would be a pay-per-view gold mine, but he didn’t need the money. He was already a multi-millionaire, he could have retired over a year ago and never have to work another day in his life. That wasn’t why he continued to fight. No, he did because he genuinely loved what he did, plus it was a pride thing for him.
A rematch with The Cutter though? That would be way more than the typical dog and pony show.
No thank you, not interested. Been there, done that, won the belt.
He told the ladies as much and they let the subject drop.
“Can’t wait for your fight, Vin.” Ryan exchanged a bro handshake with the older Steele sibling. “We’re all coming.”
Rocky led him over to a loveseat across the room, lifting her legs to drape across his lap while accepting a glass of wine from Skye.
“All of you?” Vince questioned, taking an armchair near them.
“Yup. We play a home game the night before. Jase and the Storm will arrive home from a stretch of away games that day. And Tuck is playing Philly in an afternoon game and will come up after and fly out to meet the team the next day.”
“Good Ol’ Cap, knowing everyone’s game schedule,” Skye teased as she took a seat.