‘If that was true I’d lose. I go out there to fight because I’m good at it.’

‘And because it’s something you can control,’ she said.

‘And for the green,’ he said with a backwards nod. ‘You should see how much is stuffed into that bag. I can rake in a fortune for you.’

‘I don’t want money,’ she said. ‘I want you to see forty.’

‘Murder is against the rules.’

‘So it’s never happened? No one has ever died as a result of these fights?’ His silence said it all. ‘See, that’s what I’m worried about. What if you fall and hit your head?’

‘I’m not gonna fall and hit my head,’ he said with a smirk that made her want to give him a smack.

‘You think it’s funny,’ she said, tossing the ice down to his groin between them, then digging her nails into his wrists to yank them away from her so that she could get off him and the bed. ‘You know, the best way to make me feel better is to take me with you and show me what it’s all about.’

‘You weren’t here,’ he said.

‘I’m here now.’

‘Give a guy a minute to get over the last bout,’ he said, dropping onto his back on the bed, his feet remaining on the floor.

‘Not tonight,’ she said, flitting back to the bedside. ‘The next time.’ Crawling back onto the bed, she climbed up him and laid her cheek on his heart. ‘I want to be there.’

‘You’re not going to feel better,’ he said, curling a hand around her head to drum his fingers on her temple while his other clamped around her shoulders to keep her tight against him. ‘Watching me in there will only piss you off.’

‘I thought you were good,’ she said. ‘I’ll only be pissed if you’re a wimp, are you a wimp who can’t handle himself?’

‘No,’ he said with a scoff of a laugh. ‘But how will you feel when I let a guy twice my size hit me?’

‘Why would you let him hit you?’ she asked, with a hand on each pec she pushed up to look down at him, but his eyes were closed. The resistance in his chest grew as he braced to take her weight. Even now when he was tired and hurting he didn’t complain at her. ‘Is that what you did tonight? You let him hit you because you wanted to be hurt? You think it’s easier to deal with physical pain than emotional.’ Knowing that she had caused that pain in him made her heart break. ‘I told you that I would come back.’ Her whispered words made his eyes open, maybe he’d heard some of her hurt too.

‘I’m still amazed that you did.’

But she had and when her smile slinked up it was eventually joined by his. He was grateful that she had come back, and maybe just as grateful that she had left in the first place because now he got her point. Trusting her was not going to be easy for him, tonight had given him more peace of mind and she’d have a long time to keep proving her loyalty to him.

‘Suck me off,’ he said, the mischief in his tired, smiling eyes brought relief to her and she wanted to climb inside of him and stay here, in this place, safe tonight forever.

‘How is me taking my medicine going to make you feel better?’ she teased, lowering enough to kiss the stubble on his jaw and chin.

‘I’ve been saving the good stuff.’

‘We had sex earlier,’ she said, brushing her lips over his. ‘And after all of your exertion, you probably have a headache.’

The fact that they could laugh together despite the horror they were surrounded by boded well for them, she was sure of it. Getting married had been impulsive and there were so many questions about their future. He’d done it to protect her and she was awed that he would make such a sacrifice. Trystan wanted to marry her because he wanted to punish her for the rest of her life. Dax wanted to marry her because he didn’t want anyone else to. After that decision had been made a guy only had one course of action: to prevent a woman from marrying another man, a guy had to marry her himself.

‘I’ll work through it,’ he said, closing his arm around her and flipping them around so she was underneath him. ‘You’re wearing my tee-shirt.’

‘Is that a problem?’ she asked, accepting his kiss.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You’re supposed to be naked when you’re in my bed.’

His jesting ceased when he inhaled and parted his lips on hers, she had no room to breathe let alone talk so he wasn’t expecting any kind of response. His gratified groan was joined by increased grinding of his hips down on hers. The pace of the dry riding increased and there was something so satisfying about taking their time to learn each other’s moans and manoeuvres without time or people hanging overhead.

Bruno wasn’t downstairs listening in or expecting a blow by blow after the fact. Tonight they even had the gift of freedom, no one was keeping them here against their will; no one knew that they were here.

Her hand had just slipped into his jeans when noise in the hallway broke their kiss. Dax didn’t look at her for explanation, but his lowered brow betrayed his curiosity about what was going on.

‘Wait here,’ he mumbled and was going to leave her, but she snatched his tee-shirt in her fists.

‘No, you’re not going out there, it’s just some drunk guy or something. Stay right here.’ Levering up she kissed his chin and raised her knees to angle her core around the length she’d just freed from denim.

‘There’s no reason for a drunk guy to be right outside our door,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back and fuck you when I’ve chased away whoever it is.’

No one had actually knocked, but given their circumstances, she wasn’t happy to just let him stroll out there unprotected. ‘Don’t you at least have a gun or something, just in case you need it?’

‘I don’t carry a gun,’ he said, leaving his shielding spot over her body and standing up to straighten his jeans.

‘What kind of a thug doesn’t carry a gun?’

Muttering, he buttoned his jeans, then just as he was about to head for the door he stopped to scrutinise her, she was mad enough not to notice that his focus was on the apex of her thighs. ‘What?’

‘If some dude is about to burst in here with trouble on his mind I’d rather that your gash wasn’t on show.’ Jerking her thighs closed, he nodded once. ‘Better.’

‘Why don’t you have a gun?’ she asked, scrambling up to kneel on the bottom corner of the bed, closest to the door.

‘I know how to use one and I’ve carried them before. I just don’t do it regularly.’

‘Why not?’ she hissed, trying to keep quiet and assuage her curiosity at the same time.

Dax pressed an ear to the door and held up a finger. His frown deepened then he backed away from the door. ‘If someone walks into a room and shoots you unexpectedly, you don’t usually have time to hunt for your piece before you die.’

‘And that’s a reason?’

With annoyance wringing off him, his attention snapped to her. ‘I don’t need to carry my own gun because if it comes to it, I just take the gun from the guy who brought one along with the trouble.’

Mr. Bigshot fighter was quick and nimble, she knew he had the experience to observe someone’s movements and to assess their weaknesses. He was right in the respect that if someone’s sole purpose was to kill someone else then having a gun wouldn’t save anyone’s life. The hitman could shoot you while you slept and having a house full of guns wouldn’t stop that.

Dax’s logic was strange, yet it made sense to her and as she watched him creep back toward the door she was met by a new invigorating esteem for the man she had married. His background in fighting meant he didn’t need to be capable with weapons, he was one.

Still she was surprised when Dax took hold of the handle and opened the door, maybe he was hoping for the element of surprise. But the man on the other side of the door, in the hallway, wasn’t holding a weapon, he had a phone in his hand. When Dax glared at the man who was only a few inches shorter than him, but far skinnier, the guy paled and his mouth stopped moving.