Even after everything, I still liked to punch Nick Mason.

“Come on, Evie,” he said. “Hit me harder.”

We were at the boxing gym. We’d been here for an hour, sparring—sort of. Even though I’d upped my game, our version of sparring consisted of me hitting him, and him not hitting me back. He refused to do it any other way. Find some other guy to hit you, he’d told me. I’m not fucking doing it.

So, fine then. I hit him.

Not in the face. No way was I aiming for that gorgeous face of his. But his hot, muscled body was fair game. We dodged around the mats as I aimed for his chest, his shoulders, his stomach. He was faster than me, and I only landed some of the hits I aimed at him—and the ones I landed he ridiculed as too soft. His taunts just made me work harder, and we were both covered in sweat. My arms were shaky and my legs were rubber. I felt freaking amazing.

I positioned my feet and jabbed him again, almost getting his pec. He raised a glove and blocked me, our gloves smacking. “Better,” he said. “Maybe.”

I straightened, scrubbing my forearm over my sweaty forehead. “You’re such an asshole,” I said, panting.

“I know,” Nick said. “It turns you on.”

“It doesn’t.” It totally did.

“Right, redhead.” He glanced back over his shoulder, where the gym had emptied out behind us. It was closing time, apparently. The other guys had gone and an old guy was turning out the lights.

I’d had no idea we had to go. But Nick wasn’t moving. The old guy turned out a few more lights, then gave Nick a nod—which Nick returned—and walked out the front door, locking it shut behind him.

“What’s going on?” I said.

“Workout’s over,” Nick said, his voice deceptively casual. He used his teeth to rip the velcro off his right glove.

“He just closed the place and locked us in,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, he did.” Nick dropped his glove and started on the other one.

We were completely alone in the place now. The lights above our mats were the only lights on. It should have been creepy or weird. Instead I watched Nick drop his other glove, and I felt a hard shiver of anticipation. He was planning something. I didn’t know what it was, but I had the idea I was going to like it.

Still, I kept my voice calm, like this happened every day. “So how are we going to leave?” I asked as he stepped forward and undid my glove. “If the place is already locked, and all.”

“Spare set of keys in one of the lockers in back,” Nick said. “We’ll lock up behind us when we go.”

“Uh huh,” I said. “And since we’re done working out, what are we doing between now and leaving?”

“What do you think?”

The shiver of anticipation came again, harder. Oh, I liked this. He dropped my first glove and started on the other, and I just watched him. There was nothing I liked looking at more than Nick Mason. He was all muscles and scruff and bad-boy tattoos, all sweaty and mischievous and dangerous, and he was all mine. All mine.

Six weeks we’d been doing this. Playing a sort of game that was fun and hot and, underneath, deadly serious. I was managing a bakery now, working hard and long hours and loving every minute of it. I spent all day with breads and pastries and the people who loved them, and so far I was happier in my career than I’d ever been, because I’d stopped worrying about what people thought. I just went to work and came home happy, smelling like pie crust and sugar.

And on my days off, like today, I got Nick. All to myself. We played—we sparred and we talked and we took shots at each other. And the sex—oh, my god, the sex. Sometimes I thought I could spend a week locked in a room, doing nothing but having sex with Nick, and it still wouldn’t be enough. We were daring and creative and sometimes wild, and the back and forth we did beforehand always added to the foreplay. With Nick, I always had to work for it. And it always paid off.

Today, he had that look in his eye, like he was going to dare me to do something. I was already wet, just looking at him and thinking about it. But there was something else going on, too. This wasn’t just a sex dare. I’d done Nick’s sex dares—a lot of them—and they were never quite like this.

But there was nothing I could do except wait until he was ready to show me what he was planning.

I couldn’t wait.

He pulled off his shirt and mopped himself with it. I watched, appreciative. “Is this going to be a strip show?” I asked him. “I might give you a tip.”

“You wish,” he said, scrubbing the shirt over his face and his hair. “You know I don’t strip for money. I only strip for sex.”

“Is that what we’re negotiating?” I said, even though I was totally already in. Still. “I’ll think about it.”

“You already are,” said my cocky boyfriend. “You’ve been thinking about it for the last hour, and now you’re all ready to go.” He dropped the shirt and came toward me.

I crossed my arms. “I’m sweaty,” I said.

“So am I,” Nick said, putting his hands on my hips.

“We’re in a gym,” I said. “There’s no way we’re having sex right here, right now.”

“No?” He was walking me backward. I put my hands on his biceps so I wouldn’t fall, and that alone just about did me in. Nick had very nice biceps.

My butt hit something—a stack of gym mats, waist high. Oh, no. “We are not doing this,” I said feebly.

His hands moved from my hips and his fingers hooked in the waist of my yoga pants. He pulled them down, along with my panties. “I’ve been watching your tits bounce for an hour,” he said in that hot growl of his. “Five minutes and I can make you come.”

“Five minutes?” My voice had definitely lost all conviction now. “Really?”

“No one’s here to see.” He pulled my clothes further down my thighs and pressed me back, and suddenly I was lying back on my elbows on the stack of mats while my boyfriend stripped me naked from the waist down.

I’d heard, through the grapevine, that Josh and Gina had broken up. That she’d found out he was cheating. That Josh was now with Alison, the girl from the bank with the Valentine’s Day cake, and they were getting a place, moving in together. I wished her luck. I could barely remember what Josh looked like. Because apparently Nick and I were going to have sex right here, right now.

So much for revenge, then. It felt good to be free.

Nick leaned over me and kissed me. Long and hard and deep. He was hard in his shorts, and suddenly I was uncomfortable, squirming against him. Yes—five minutes was all it was going to take. I didn’t care where we were anymore. I wanted that inside me, right now.

Nick slid his shorts down with one hand, ran his hand over his cock while he broke the kiss. “You ready?” he said.

“Try me,” I said.

He pushed into me, and I moaned. We’d started going bare a week ago, and it made everything different all over again. There was no drug as addictive as being skin to skin with him. He must have felt the same way, because he could barely keep his hands off me, even more than usual.

But it had changed other things, too. Neither of us had ever done it bare before. It was… more intimate. More trusting. And yes, a fuck of a lot hotter.

He pressed his weight down on me, pushing in all the way, and I gripped him with my knees as he started to fuck me. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he growled in my ear, and I was. I was hot from watching him move for the last hour. Hot from just being around him. I moaned and pressed up into him, spreading my knees and changing the angle, and he fucked me harder. I panted as I felt the pleasure tighten inside me, start to clench my muscles. I didn’t care that we were almost in public. I didn’t care that we were sweaty. I just lost myself, like I always did with Nick. I let myself be dirty. I let myself love it without being embarrassed. I let everything go.

Did it take five minutes? Probably less. I only knew I came, shuddering up into him and squeezing him, my knees gripping his hips. He pushed deep into me and came too, the best feeling in the world. Then we lay there, panting.

“Okay,” I said. “What was that for?”

Nick, as always, was blunt, but he stroked my temple with his thumb. “I was making you come so you’d be agreeable,” he said.

“Agreeable to what?”

“Moving in to my place,” Nick said. “Enough of this bullshit, Evie. Come live with me.”

I stared at him. “You mean it?”

“I fucking mean it.”

I couldn’t breathe for a second. Live with him? Go to sleep with him every night, wake up with him every morning? Were we ready for that?

“Yes,” I told him. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Because he was right. We hadn’t been ready for this six weeks ago. But we’d taken our time, and every day it only got better. If he was ready for this now, then so was I.

“Go home and pack a bag,” he said. “Start tonight.”

“Okay.” I pulled him down to me and kissed him. Passionate, but sweet.

He broke the kiss and pulled off me. “Good,” he said, pulling his shorts up again. “Stay there.” He dug in his gym bag for a towel, which he handed to me to clean up with. I should have been embarrassed, but I wasn’t.

“Is this how you always plan to convince me?” I asked when I’d pulled my yoga pants up.

“Pretty much,” Nick said.

I had nothing to say to that, because it was working.

“One more thing,” he said, digging into his gym bag again. “Sit back down.”

I sat down on the stack of mats again, tossing the towel back into his gym bag. Because I’m classy. My chest was tight with anticipation. I didn’t know he’d planned even more.

Nick came to the edge of the mats, his hips between my knees. “I’m not going to fuck you again,” he told me. “You’re just going to have to agree.”

“Agree to what?”

“To wear this.” He took my hand, turned it palm up, and put a ring in it.

A diamond ring. A slender band with a single, beautiful stone in it. The world spun for a second as I took it in. “Nick,” I breathed.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Evie,” Nick said. “I want to marry you. When you’re ready. When we’re both ready. But this,” he traced the ring in my palm, “this means we’re gonna do it. Whenever we decide.”

I closed my fingers over the ring for a second, pressing it into my palm. Then I picked it up and put it on. “I agree,” I said.

He let out a breath, and I realized for the first time that he was nervous. “That’s a yes?”

In answer, I leaned up and kissed him again. My arms around his neck, his around my waist, pulling me close. I felt a wave of happiness hit me harder than I’d ever imagined. He was tough and sweet and caring and funny and everything I ever wanted.

I broke the kiss, and he leaned down and kissed my jaw. “I love you,” I told him.

“That’s nice,” he said against my neck.

I punched his arm. “Say it.”

He kissed my earlobe, the tender skin beneath it. Sweet and yet very serious. “I love you, Evie Bates,” he said in that sexy growl of his.

It made me shiver, so I said, “Say it again.”

He was obedient for once. “I love you, Evie Bates.” He kissed my neck again. “Forever. Okay?”

I thought about it. And it was perfect. It really was.

“Okay,” I said to him. “Let’s go shower.”

* * *