Live boxing matches are fucking insane.

The crowd is always overcharged with adrenaline and there's almost an animalistic vibe in the air. Deafening cheers and wild screams pierce the arena, making it crackle with energy. That very energy somehow passes into you until you're vibrating with it, catching the adrenaline around you like it's contagious and becoming intoxicated. You have no choice but to scream along with the crowd and it's no wonder the whole place is buzzing with wild abandon. Nobody is safe from the absolute hype you feel being surrounded by the thousands of spectators more than ready to watch a couple of fighters duke it out in the ring.

Tonight's fighters? Asher and his opponent, Vic Walker.

"You've got this, Ashes!" Aria screams beside me in her seat, already leaning forward and on edge.

The match is about to start and Asher and his opponent are circling each other, in the middle of an intense stare down. Asher is always a serious dude but in the ring he's almost ruthlessly cold. I've got to admit he's a scary fucker when he wants to be and I think his opponent feels the same way because I can see the nerves on his face. We have fan-fucking-tastic seats for the match and we're close enough to catch every bit of the action. That's one of the perks of being part of the fighter's personal crew. That and the free food. God, this rocks.

"I could get used to this life." I mumble seriously through a mouthful of popcorn.

Aria chews nervously on her finger and pauses to glance over at me. "It's all fun and games until it's the man you love that's in the ring. You don't ever get used to watching him get hurt."

"He'll be fine." I wrap an arm around her. "He's badass when he fights."

Which is true as hell. All of the Fighter's Den boxers are crazy talented and Asher is no exception. More than that, he always struck me as the one made for this life compared to the other four. The man is totally in his element when he fights. This is what he's most passionate about, without a doubt.

"Of course he'll be fine." She starts chewing on her her finger again and I have to smack her hand away. "But he's still going to get hurt. I can't stand seeing that."

I try to see it from her perspective. I guess it would suck seeing someone I love be a human punching bag and ending up all bloodied and bruised. Truthfully, if it was my man in the ring I'm pretty sure I'd get in there myself and kick whoever's ass I needed to something fierce. Good thing this isn't the life for me. I'm fine just being a spectator.

"Look at it this way—if he wins, you're going to get hella orgasms tonight."

From what I've heard, boxers get super horny after winning a match. All the positive adrenaline needs an outlet and the best cure is fucking someone's brain out, or so I've been told.

That gets a little smirk from Aria. "Excellent point."

Then the whistle rings to start the match and the both of us instantly sober up. We sit upright in our seats as the fighting commences with Asher throwing the first punch. It hits Walker right in the jaw and he staggers back. Asher is on him in a flash, throwing another body punch that causes Walker to lurch over and a left cross that splits his lip, blood dripping on to the canvas. There's a collective "ooh" at the sight of it from the audience.

"Strong start from Pryce. He has his eyes set on the win." The judge booms into the mic, amping up the audience.

"Let's go, Ash!" I yell around cupped hands.

"Get him, baby!" Aria smacks the handles of her seat.

Everything becomes a blur of punches after that. Asher may have started off strong but Walker retaliates once he gets it together and he's good. The two throw punches hard enough that I can hear the force behind them from here in the first row. Knuckles meeting skin, grunts of pain, cursing and spitting all ensue as round after round takes place. The crowd becomes anxious when it seems like Asher and his opponent are tied for points, the two of them fighting on the same level.

By the final round, Asher has a cut above his brow that Coach had to staple shut and the right side of his face is blue and purple with bruising. There's more bruising on his ribs and a slight limp to his walk if I'm not mistaken. The other guy is worse though and that's what I keep telling Aria to console her, who's rocking in her seat and at the verge of tears. Walker's lip won't stop bleeding and his left eye is so blown up it's barely open at this point. The swelling extends from his eyebrow to just under his eyes, his eyelid puffy and agonizingly red. It's hard to look at. He also keeps grabbing on to his stomach because Asher went to town on his guts and now Walker look like he'll be sick any minute.

Jesus, this sport is not for the faint of heart.

The final round begins and the arena is humming with anxiety and nerves. The cheering sounds almost desperate as we all look on to see who will pull through and take the win. It's genuinely hard to tell at this point.

Greg is instructing Asher from the side, yelling out things about offence and giving hell, and the rest of the rest of the guys follow suit as they slap the canvas and shake the ropes.

The only person who has on a straight face is Wolfe. I watch him curiously as he observes the match with intense eyes that are calculating Asher's every move. He's studying the match, dissecting every jab and every hook. And he does it with a calmness that's almost scary. Does nothing rattle this man or get him out of sorts? I find myself wondering what he would be like in the ring and if I could bear to watch him get hurt. I think that would suck balls.

"Yes, there we go!" Aria jumps from her seat and startles me out of my thoughts. I have no choice but to look back to the ring where Asher is standing over his opponent who is now flat on his back and completely still. The ref is slapping the canvas in countdown and the whole arena counts with him.

"...8, 9, 10! Pryce is the winner by knockout!"

"Fuck yes!" I jump up to and join the rest of the audience by screaming wildly.

Roars of approval ring out followed by thousands of voices simultaneously chanting Asher's name. Ash puts his arms up in victory, breathing hard and grinning like a madman despite being all battered up. I could never imagine doing something like this for a living but hey, to each their own.

"Come on, they'll meet us in the private room after interviews." Aria leads me away.

I glance back once at the ring to find the boys toppled on top of Asher, laughing and jostling his head in congratulations. Wolfe stands above them with crossed arms but there's a flicker of approval in his eyes and I know he's happy for his friend. Almost like he can sense that I'm looking at him, his gaze shifts up and clashes with mine. I know I told myself that I would be passive with him, that I wouldn't stop being tough as nails just because he has the ability to make me feel like such a girl, but I can't help smiling at him. Maybe it's because I want to make him feel seen after the talk we had, to show him that he's not as invisible as he thinks he is. Plus, I was kind of a bitch to him that day and I feel bad now. Whatever the reason, I'm glad I did it because his face softens in return in a way I don't think I've ever seen before and I wonder what it means.

Reluctantly, I turn back around and catch up to Aria who's much more ahead of me. We get to the private room and the security guard lets us through immediately upon recognizing us—sick—and greet the girls inside. They usually have to watch the matches from in here because the crowds are too loud for their kids and they're also too young to be watching that kind of stuff.

I won't lie—I feel awkward as fuck being around them. After my freak out they've definitely backed off a little and that makes me feel even worse. Still, I tell myself it's better this way and it'll make it easier not to get too attached to them no matter how awesome they seem.

I don't contribute to their conversation much as we wait for the guys to join us. Mostly, I sit on the floor and play with Lucas and Zack. I'm good with boys. I just get them. So for the next twenty minutes, I play with their trucks and cars and pretend to eat them up with monster noises that send them into fits of laughter. They're so freaking cute.

"What's that?" Lucas asks me, putting his tiny finger on the spot below my ear.

"It's a tattoo." I smile at him.

"What's a toot-toot?" Zack stares at it with wide eyes.

I snort with laughter and the boys grin, having no idea why I'm really laughing. "It's like a drawing that you can make on your skin and it stays there forever."

"What's forever?" Lucas tilts his head.

I think about it for a moment. "It's when something never finishes."

"Wow." Zack breathes, totally impressed. "I wish cookies were forever."

Oh my God. I love these two. I'm near-hysterical as I try to answer him. "You and me both, kiddo."

"Is that a cookie?" Lucas squints at my tattoo.

My hand automatically seeks the ink beneath my ear. "No. This is called a dream catcher. It catches all of my bad dreams and protects me so I don't have them anymore."

"Does it work?" He asks with wide eyes.

"Most of the time, yes."

"Why is it under your ear? Dreams come in your head."

Damn, this kid is a fucking smart one. "Because my bad dreams have a lot of scary sounds that I don't like to hear. This dream catcher catches all of those sounds and help me sleep."

"That's so cool." He grins, those incredible blueish green eyes twinkling. "You're pretty."

"Thank you." I laugh. Sheesh, the kid is going to be a total heartbreaker when he grows up.

"Make room for the champiooon!" The door kicks open and Cameron puts his hands around his mouth, exhaling loudly to mimic cheering. "Pryce! Pryce! Pryce!"

"Shh!" Avery immediately scolds. "Olivia just felt asleep."

Cameron covers his mouth lightening fast, eyes going wide. He tiptoes over to Avery who's lying down on the couch with her back propped up against the armrest after feeding her daughter, and Cameron gazes down at Olivia with soft eyes.

"She's so cute." He makes grabby hands at her, whispering. "I can't believe I made her. How is it that I do everything perfectly?"

"I'm sorry, are you the one who carried her for nine months and pushed her out of your body?" Avery narrows her eyes at him.

He laughs sheepishly. "I love you, darling."

Her lips twitch reluctantly and she hands a sleeping Olivia to Cameron who immediately starts coddling her.

"Before Cameron does any more damage, let's bounce." Jaxon gestures his hand for us to come outside.

"When will you stop being so jealous of me?" Cameron chirps and him and Jaxon launch into another round of bickering. I legitimately find it hard to believe they're best friends.

I feel awkward as hell walking alongside the huge group of people as we leave the building. I only ever tag along to these things because Aria drags me but I always feel like an imposter or some shit.

"You okay?" Emily asks me over her shoulder. I nod. "By the way, you were really good with Lucas. I know he asks a lot of questions and it can be exhausting but you handled him like a pro."

"He's a great kid." I tell her honestly.

"Thank you. I can tell he really likes you."

"The feeling is definitely mutual."

She smiles at that. "So, do you have any plans or are you calling it a night?"

"I'm probably going to grab a couple of drinks. I'm feeling hopped up on adrenaline from the match so I'm not ready to turn in yet."

"Totally understand." She nods. "We used to go out for drinks all the time after matches but now that we have kids, we sacrifice alcohol to catch up on sleep instead."

"In that case, I'll be sure to take a shot on your behalf."

"Thank you." She laughs. We step outside and start for opposite directions so she waves. "Goodnight."

"Night." I call back.

I watch Emily for a moment as she heads for her car. For a while I was worried if her and the other girls might not want to talk to me anymore or whatever considering my freak out but that conversation definitely settled my nerves. Why do I get the feeling she did that on purpose?

"Want Ash and I to drop you off somewhere on the way home?" Aria asks, coming up behind me. I carpooled with her to get to the match.

I open my mouth to agree when I notice Wolfe making his way to his own ride. I wonder if he has any plans and suddenly, I want to find out. I can't explain why but I just want to. I hate to admit it but I think the big guy's gotten under my skin.

"I, um, I think I'm just going to..." I gesture a hand to him and Aria follows my line of sight. She turns back to me with an amused smile.

"Good to see you're finally getting along." She observes.

Motherfucker, I think I almost blush. I clear my throat and pull my leather jacket up to my face to hide my cheeks. "Yeah, he's a pretty cool guy. I was wrong about him."

Her smile widens. "Alright then. Have fun, thottie."

"You too, hottie." I kiss her on the cheek and bound my way over to Wolfe just as he perches on to his motorcycle.

"Hey." I call out. His head snaps up and he blinks in surprise when he notices me. I stuff my hands in my pockets, wanting to seem casual. I never do this kind of shit so I'm totally out of my element here. "You busy right now?"

He shakes his head, watching me carefully and obviously wondering what I'm up to so I elaborate.

"I was thinking...want to grab a couple of drinks with me? If you're not too tired or whatever?"

I've definitely caught him off guard. I can feel my face grow warmer when he studies me like I'm going out of my mind. Did I really come across that bitchy? I don't want him to think of me that way, at least not anymore. Truthfully I have a hard time making friends but with Wolfe...I don't know. There's no bullshit or fake news or drama. He's a genuinely real person and I like that. I like him. He's cool.

So I raise my chin confidently, not backing down. We might have gotten off the wrong foot but I'm about to change that. "Come on, big guy. Don't tell me I scare you."

His brows just barely tip up in amusement. I raise them right back, crossing my arms and waiting for his response. Finally, he jerks his head to his motorcycle in invitation and I grin.

"She's a beauty, by the way." I pat his ride.

Wolfe nods slowly but he keeps his eyes on me instead. My insides warm when I realize he's re-directing the compliment at me. At least I think. I clear my throat and get on behind him. He hands me his helmet and I strap it on.

"You'll be okay without one?" I make sure and he nods again. "Cool. And just so you know, I live on my bike so I'm not one of those girls that will scream at you to drive carefully. Make sure you gun this thing."

He glances at me over his shoulder, biting the inside of his cheek and I smirk back. It doesn't escape my notice how many close calls he's had to a smile thanks to yours truly.

He revs up the engine, loud and clear just like I'd asked, and I have to laugh at his compliance. I wrap my arms around his torso to hold on and for a moment, my stomach flips.

Jesus, he's so solid. I feel like I'm holding on to a wall instead of a human. The only thing that differentiates him from concrete is how warm he is. I can feel his body heat transferring to mine, can smell his cologne wrapping all around me, can feel his muscles tense underneath my touch when I span my fingers out and dig them in to his abs. I'm pretty sure there's eight. Motherfucking eight.

Wolfe kicks off and I tighten my hold on him, not because I'm scared but because I like having the excuse to touch him. I even go as far as to rest my chin on his shoulder as he whizzes down the mostly empty streets with ease. There's something so fucking attractive by the way he handles his ride. He drives with so much confidence, such poised control, and it just adds to his masculinity. God, there isn't a thing this man does that doesn't make me hot for him.

We come to a stop at a red light and without the reviving of the engine, the night is quiet around us. For some reason it just makes me more hyper aware of Wolfe and I think the same goes for him because he's tense again. There's something about the way I'm plastered to him, hands gripping the front of his shirt and thighs locked around his, that makes me all hot and bothered and I can't resist kicking things up a notch.

"You smell really nice, big guy." I whisper, my mouth brushing his ear.

My eyes fall down to Wolfe's hands that are now gripping the handles of his bike so hard, his knuckles are white. I laugh quietly under my breath, casually settling my chin back on his shoulder like I didn't just pull the moves on him. But I did and his suddenly heavy breathing is proof.

The stoplight switches to green and Wolfe kicks off again, the loud noise of whipping air replacing the tense silence between us.

I'm almost upset when we get to our regular bar—holy fuck, did I just call it ours?—because I could have spent the whole night driving around the city all coddled up to him. I know I hate touching but his, I could get used to and I'm well aware of just how dangerous that is. How dangerous he is.

I reluctantly let him go and climb off his motorcycle, pulling my jacket tighter around me. When we start heading to the bar, I can't help but feel the way my inner thighs slide against each other and realize that I'm actually fucking wet right now. I can't believe just being in his proximity did that to me. I glance over at him and he's staring straight ahead with a pained expression. He's still breathing harder than he should be. Are we on the same boat or am I being a horn dog that needs to get laid?

Wolfe holds the door open for me and I thank him, stepping inside. The owner Charlie looks up at the sound of the bell and double takes at us. His brows draw together in confusion and now doubt he's wondering what the hell is going on. Him and I both.

"Somewhere in the back?" I ask Wolfe, looking over my shoulder. Just in time to catch his eyes darting up to mine. I blink in shock. Was he...looking at my ass?

Huh. Awesome.

He nods stiffly and walks ahead before I can figure it out for sure, grabbing a seat at the table he sat at the last time I saw him here. There's only one other chair across from him that I seat myself into, pulling off my jacket and draping it across the back. Almost immediately, Charlie comes by with our regular drinks and I thank him. He gives me a curious look and I give him a sizzling one back, one that says back off, to which he puts his hands up in surrender before walking away.

"So," I start brightly and try to move past this trance we're in. Things feel way too intense between us right now. "Which tattoo of yours is your favourite?"

I figure ink is common ground for us both and there's no way to make it sexual so it should work as a buffer. Wolfe nods almost gratefully and I hold back a snicker. He pushes up the sleeve of his shirt to his shoulder and my mouth salivates when I get a good look at those mega arms. Okay, I was wrong. Apparently this can get sexual.

I try to pay attention when he points to a piece deeply woven with the rest of his sleeve. It's a flower. Actually, both sleeves on his arms are composed of that very same flower done in different ways and I wonder what's so special about the one he's pointing to until he moves his finger to the writing beneath it. It reads "AMARYLLIS" and "MARY" is underlined.

"Who's Mary?" I wonder aloud.

Maybe an old girlfriend? Oh, fuck. Maybe a current girlfriend? How am I supposed to know if he has one? He's a totally mystery, plus no one that looks like him can possibly be single. Just fucking great, Lenny. What have you done?

Wolfe must see me spiralling because he holds his hand up, taking out his phone. He types something into it and then shows me the screen. I read the two words he typed in the notes app.

My mother.

My mouth parts in surprise. I was not expecting that, for him to offer something so personal about himself. I feel like he just opened up a portal to me that only I'm allowed to look into and I don't know what to say.

I go for the obvious, licking my lips nervously. "Is...is she alive?"

Pure and raw pain flashes through his eyes and I guess the answer even before he shakes his head no. My chest cracks wide open with pain for him. Oh, Wolfe.

"I'm so sorry." I tell him sincerely. "What about your father?"

Another shake of his head. More pain tightens my chest up until it's almost hard to breathe. Pain and so much fucking understanding.

Before I even realize what I'm doing, I reach for his hand that's resting on the table and intertwine it with mine, locking our fingers together. His eyes move down to our joined hands and mine do the same. They look...right. His hand is ridiculously larger than mine but it somehow compliments mine perfectly. Or maybe that's what I want to believe. I don't know anymore.

"I lost both my parents, too." I whisper. "Car crash."

I can feel his gaze shift back to me but I keep staring at our hands. I can't look him in the eyes because admitting my past is hard enough. What little of it I want to offer, anyways.

"I understand how alone you must have felt. Feel. It never stops hurting, does it?"

I finally look up and although there's still pain in those deep brown eyes, there's also a flicker of peace. He knows I get him and I know he gets me and that is a miracle of its own. I never thought I'd come across someone who could genuinely understand me and I'm betting he once thought the same.

"Is that why you have that flower all over you?" I study his arms revealed by his half-sleeve shirt. There's got to be at least ten of them between both arms. "Amaryllis is a type of flower right? Was your mother named after them?"

He nods again and I offer him a genuine smile. This man. So full of surprises. I can't believe how different he is from what my first impression of him was. There's nothing egotistical or womanizing about him. He's kind, humble, and so fucking real.

"Well." I blow out a breath. Things are intense again but a different kind of intense. "I guess we have quite a bit in common."

He studies me carefully and I wonder if he's thinking the same thing I am. Where the hell did you come from and what does all of this mean?

"Hey, man." Some dude comes to our table and Wolfe and I both look to him, separating our joined hands like we were doing something we shouldn't have been doing. Really stupid of us because this guy isn't interested in that. Instead, he points to Wolfe's tattoos. "Your ink is killer. Mind if I ask where you got it done?"

Wolfe holds up a finger to him and goes through his phone, searching something up. The guy is obviously confused and I wonder if I should intervene and tell him Wolfe doesn't talk. It seems like that would be overstepping so I keep my mouth shut.

Wolfe holds the phone up to him and the guy reads the screen. "That's the place? Who was your artist?"

Wolfe starts going through the website this time, to find the artist I presume, and the guy scoffs. "Look man, if you don't want to tell me you can just say so."

Okay—fuck keeping my mouth shut. "He doesn't talk, asshole. As long as he's taking the time to answer your questions who cares how he chooses to do that?"

"What do you mean he doesn't talk?" The guy makes a face. "That's fucking weird."

A burst of anger rips through me. The nerve of him to not only say something so ignorant, but to say it as if Wolfe isn't even here and can't hear him. I don't get it. Why the fuck do people treat him like he's invisible as soon as they realize he doesn't speak?

"You know what's fucking weird?" I stand up so suddenly my chair screeches backwards and draws the attention of the few people in this place. I stalk up to the douchebag, shoving him back so hard he stumbles. "It's fucking weird how you decide not to respect someone just because they're different from you. So how about you tuck your tiny little dick back between your legs and walk the fuck away because if you don't, if you say one more ignorant thing about him, I will end up in jail and you will end up in a hospital bed. How's that for fucking weird?"

"Calm down." His eyes widen and he takes a step back. Then he mutters under his breath, "Crazy bitch."

Hell. Fucking. No.

I launch myself at him. Rear my arm back and into his nose so suddenly, he doesn't even have time to blink. One second he's standing in front of me and the next, he's on the ground clutching his bloody nose.

"What the fuck!" He cries, groaning in pain.

I try to go in for another punch but a pair of strong arms wrap around me and lock me in place, immobilizing me. Where have I seen this before?

"Let me go!" I yell at Wolfe, leaning my body forward to break out of his hold. It's no use. It's like trying to push a car. "I'm going to kick his puny ass!"

"Going to?" Charlie runs up to us, gaping down at the guy. "You already did! Cool it Lenny, or I'll have to escort you out."

"Fine by me." I sneer down at the asshole who scrambles further away from me. "Him and I can take this outside, instead."

"Lenny." Charlie snaps. "I'll kick him out of here myself. Stop it already."

I finally stop struggling against Wolfe, breathing hard and trying to regain some of control. My jaw ticks in annoyance but I manage to bite out a, "Fine."

Slowly, hesitantly, Wolfe releases his hold on me and I'm grateful he can't see my face because I probably do look like a crazy bitch. The stupid asshole on the floor glares at me and just for that I give him a sugar sweet smile—right before I kick him straight in the balls.

He grunts, face contorting and doubling over in pain. I lean down and say in my nicest voice, "Oops. My leg spasmed. How. Fucking. Weird."

"Christ." Charlie mumbles, hooking his arms under the guy and dragging him away. He looks over my shoulder at Wolfe. "Make sure she doesn't hurt anyone else while I take care of this."

I cross my arms and watch Charlie drag him all the way out, not satisfied until the door closes behind them. Only then do I turn around and reluctantly face Wolfe, my eyes locking on his disbelieving and bewildered ones. He gapes at me like he's never seen me before.

Well, shit. Did I show my crazy side too early? Did I scare him away? I feel the first flash of regret over the stunt I just pulled when it happens.

Wolfe smiles.

And not one of those barely-there tip of his lips that I've seen glances of. I'm talking an ear-to-ear grin that almost hints at his teeth. His features become softer, relaxed, and so damn endearing. I can't believe how different he suddenly looks and it's all I can do to keep my jaw in place.

"Would you look at that?" I raise my brows. "If beating someone up is all it takes to get you to smile like that then I would've done it a long time ago."

He ducks his head almost bashfully, scratching at the back of his neck. An incredulous laugh escapes me but I can't help it. He's fucking smiling.

And I was right—it is fucking awesome.

________________________

A/N

THIS CHAPTER! I AM FANGIRLING.

I can't decide what was my favourite part. Wolfe and Lenny sharing their pasts? Lenny kicking total ass for Wolfe? Or the big guy finally smiling?! I don't know but I loved all of it! What was your favourite?

These two are going to be the death of me. I know it and I'm so ready for it. Who else?

Please VOTE, comment and share if you liked this chapter!

Happy Reading :)