There’s something to be said for calculating the thread count in your sheets. That and sleeping in the bed of a beautiful woman.

The room glows, the all-white décor almost blinding, as I open my eyes. My body feels rested, lots of the aches I wake up with daily in my legs and hips aren’t as noticeable, and I wonder vaguely if maybe that means I’m dead. Then I look to my right and see Camilla asleep next to me and realize if I’m dead, I’m okay with that.

Last night wasn’t the best sleep I’ve ever had, but it wasn’t the worst. Once we got here late and fucked ourselves senseless, I had a hard time falling asleep. It was well past three before my eyes finally shut, but they did. They don’t always.

Cam’s on her side, facing me. Her hair is a wild mess against the pristine sheets. I glance at the clock, then back to her. Then back to the clock. Then to the ceiling.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I count to three and then turn to my side. Running a fingertip from her forehead down the side of her face, her neck, and over her shoulder, she wakes up under my touch.

Her lashes flutter as she opens her eyes. “Hey,” she says, her sleepy voice killing me.

“Good morning.”

“No breakfast in bed?”

“I’m not much of a cook,” I admit. “But I promise to buy you breakfast if you get up and come with me.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s early.”

She yawns. “Like five o’clock early or like ten o’clock early?”

“Ten isn’t early, babe.”

“It is to me,” she yawns again.

“It’s six.”

“Where do you have to be at six in the morning on a weekend?”

“I don’t have to be anywhere. I have somewhere I want to be and I want you to be there with me.”

She looks up at me with one eye, the other buried in the sheets. “What if I remind you I’m naked? Would that keep you in bed?”

“Nope,” I say, springing off the mattress. My feet hit the soft carpeting and I swear I sink a couple of inches. “Get your fine ass up, Miss Landry. The world awaits.”

“The world can wait.”

“Stay right here.” I leave Cam just inside the door and jog across the mats. Flipping on the switch, I wait for the hum of the halogen lights and watch them flicker to life high above our heads. “Welcome to Percy’s.”

“I can’t believe you brought me here,” she squeals. Almost bouncing on her toes, she claps her hands in front of her as I return. “So this is where you train?”

“This is it. Not super fancy or any of that, but it works.”

“It’s amazing.” She looks around the room, to the section with heavy bags and then on to the speed bags. I think her eyes will pop out of her head when she sees the ring in the back. “There. You fight in there.”

“Yup. That’s where I go at it with Bond.”

She rests her gaze back on me like a little kid at Christmas. “Teach me something, Dom.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Come on! Teach me something. Please?”

“What do you want to learn?”

“Hell if I know,” she giggles. “Teach me how to throw a punch. Or a kick. Or toss someone over my back like they do in the movies.” She makes her hands into fists and rolls them around like the fighters did in old blockbusters.

“Okay, killer. Let’s slow down,” I laugh, leading her through the gym. “One thing at a time.”

“I’m an all-or-nothin’ kind of girl.”

“Is that so?”

“It is today.”

I set my bag on the floor and look for a pair of gloves. I know Percy has extra ones in the back, but I don’t want to go get them. Finding them in the bottom, I stand up to see her circling a heavy bag the wrong way. She throws a couple of punches, terribly, then a kick that almost lands her on her ass.

“We’ve found the thing you aren’t good at,” I crack, tossing her the gloves. “Put these on before you wreck your manicure.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she nods, obviously humoring me. “You knew the word ‘manicure.’ I feel strangely accomplished.”

“You would.”

“What is a manicure called if it’s on your toes?”

“A … toe-icure? A foot-icure?”

She giggles as I help her into the gloves. “No. ‘Ped’ is Latin for foot. So it’s pedicure.”

“Thanks for that bit of trivia I’ll never need.”

“Could be a Jeopardy question one day,” she teases. “Better bank that information.”

“It’s right here,” I say, tapping my temple. “Now let’s teach you something you can actually use. Let me see your jab.”

She sticks her left arm out.

“No, you’re right-handed. You’ll jab with your right, not your left.”

She repeats the same movement with her other hand.

“Whatever you think you know from doing those aerobic videos, forget it. Forget it all,” I tell her, shaking my head. “It’s like this.”

I demonstrate a few jabs on the bag, popping the leather with my fist over and over. I follow it with a cross a time or two, just so she can see it in order. When I stop and look at her, she’s watching me with a smile. “Did you get that?” I ask.

“I got that you look hot as hell doing it.”

I look at the ceiling. “Did you see the mechanics of the punch?”

“I saw the way your back ripples,” she says, moseying my way. “And the way your legs flex and—”

“So you got nothing.”

“I got nothing.” She stands on her tiptoes and I bend so she can kiss me. “Can I see it again? One more time. I’ll try to watch your arms this time.”

We spend over an hour throwing punches, stealing kisses, and learning how to turn your hips over for a roundhouse kick. By the time we’re done, we’re lying on the mats catching our breath.

She turns her head and faces me. “This was fun.”

“Really? You liked it?”

“The boxing was fun. It’s a good workout.”

I nod in agreement.

“But I really liked being here with you. In your space, you know?”

Rolling onto my side, I move my hand so I’m touching her. “I’m trying to figure out how I can show you I want you to be a part of my life but do it in a way where I don’t worry about you.”

“This place is harmless, Dom.”

“Right now,” I agree. “But when it’s open, there are people in here that aren’t savory. Take Gary, the guy from some place in Texas that no one can find on a map. The guy is flat-out weird, Cam. Serial killer material.”

“Oh, he is not.”

“He is too! Weird as fuck. Then there’s Noah, the kid that snorts more shit up his nose than I care to know. And Bond, the asshole I only tolerate because he’s a good sparring partner.” I play with a lock of her hair, twirling it around my finger. “I don’t want to risk you to any of them. I won’t. I just have to figure out safe ways to incorporate you into this. Okay?”

“Okay.” She leans forward and presses a sweet, sweaty kiss to my lips. “Now, since you’re all give-y today, I have a question. A request.”

My stomach churns at the look in her eye. “What?”

“Will you go to the charity event with me this week that I’ve been planning?”

“No.”

“Come on, Dom,” she whines, rolling onto her back again. “It’s just for an evening. It won’t be fun, I won’t lie, but I really want to take you with me. Don’t you want to see what I’ve been working on?”

“I’m proud of you, whatever you’ve done. But …” I imagine seeing the two wenches from the restaurant there and being under their scrutiny. “It’s not my thing.”

“You brought me here. I want to bring you there.”

“You took me to Hillary’s. Same difference.”

“No, it isn’t. Not at all.”

“Then I can’t imagine the excitement I’d have at a charity ball,” I deadpan.

She gives me the best glare she can muster, which isn’t much. “Will you at least think about it?”

“You think about this,” I say, getting to my feet and looking down at her. “You consider what it might be like if I got my hands on Graham. Then ask me again to accompany you if you think that’s a great choice. In the meantime, I’ll be in the ring if you care to join me.”

I walk away, hearing her scramble to her feet behind me. “No one is here, right?”

“Nada.”

“You know what we could do …”

I grin, knowing exactly what she’s thinking and start peeling my shirt off.