Chapter 25
25
ATLAS
“ S ix, seven, eight, nine…”
The moment the ref completes the count and signals the end of the fight, the crowd erupts. A deafening roar from the arena—thousands of spectators all screaming for me.
Chanting my name.
Celebrating my victory.
It barely registers.
Nor does Isaac, Bishop, and Pope rushing into the ring, surrounding me in the center, where the doctor examines Gordon, who is still flat on his back on the mat near my feet.
Isaac says something, but all I hear is the thrumming of the blood in my ears. It surges through my veins. Fueled by the flood of adrenaline dumped during the match. Every part of my body throbs in time with the pulsing of my heartbeat.
Ignoring everyone around me, my gaze snaps over to the only person who matters.
Wren stands in front of her seat, her hand covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. I stand stock-still for a moment, trying to catch my breath while it’s being stolen by the woman whose bourbon gaze stays locked with mine. She drops her hand, a smile curling her lips, and all that uncertainty I carried into this ring melts away instantly.
Wren…
I take a step toward her, but Isaac intercepts me, wrapping the belt around my waist and securing it before I can say a word.
Bobby moves to my side and grabs my wrist, holding up my hand while he addresses the crowd. “Your new light heavyweight champion, Atlas ‘The Hurricane’ Hawke.”
I’m supposed to be doing something.
Saying something.
Reacting somehow to my victory.
But I can’t look away from her.
My body vibrates with the need to hold her, to feel her up against me, to kiss her and confirm that what just happened wiped away any chance of her following through on the threat she made last night.
I jerk my hand out of Bobby’s hold and turn to Isaac, spitting out my mouthguard. “Take them off.”
He raises a brow at me. “What?”
The roar of the crowd swallows our words.
I lean closer, pushing my gloved hands against him. “Take. Them. Off .”
He scrambles to unlace them, and the second he pulls them free, I stalk across the ring to the ropes.
Bishop grabs my arm, her hand sliding down it from the blood and sweat, making me turn back to her. A mix of excitement and confusion crosses her dark eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Where I need to be.”
Her brow rises, and she motions back toward center ring where Bobby stands, watching me expectantly with a microphone in hand. “The interview?”
“No.”
I’m not about to waste my time providing any other explanation.
Every second I spend away from Wren feels like another year added to my sentence in this prison I’ve been in since our argument, since she said those words that destroyed me and ripped my heart in two.
I climb between the ropes and leap down to the front row, where the entire family stands, waiting to congratulate me. Dad, Mom, Astrid, Uncle Savage and Danika, Kennedy and Cass, Uncle Stone and Nora, Storm and Landon, Angelina and Alessandra, Caroline and Saint, and Luca and Byron—even Coen. Though he stands removed from everyone, terror in his gaze locked on me.
But my focus remains on Wren.
On getting her in my arms.
I move straight over to her and tug her up against me, burying my face against her neck. “I’m so sorry, Little Bird. I fucking love you so much.”
She accepts my embrace, squeezing me back, despite my being covered in blood and sweat—some of it not even my own.
Before she can say anything, I pull back and lift her easily. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I take her mouth as I move down the row and toward the tunnel that’ll lead me back to the changing rooms.
Someone grabs my shoulder, and I turn back to find Pope giving me a stern look.
“You have to be examined by the ring doctor, and you’re going to need stitches.”
“Am I going to bleed to death?”
Even as I ask the question, I feel blood ooze down the side of my face from my split brow.
He narrows his harsh gaze on me, looking every bit Dr. Clarke instead of my buddy, Pope.
“I didn’t think so. It can fucking wait.”
But this can’t.
She can’t.
I return my mouth to hers, my cock hardening against my groin protector even more as I kiss her. It pushes against that stupid chunk of plastic, which rubs against the apex of her thighs with each step back to the changing room.
Four Hawke Security team members fall into line around us, and when we reach the door, one of them tugs it open for me.
I drag my mouth from hers long enough to make eye contact with him. “No one gets in here. Do you understand me? No one.”
His brow furrows. “But—”
“No buts. No one.”
I step in, letting the door close behind us and glance at it.
A deadbolt gleams in the harsh fluorescent lights.
Thank fuck.
I reach over with my still-wrapped hands and throw the lock into place, ensuring we won’t be disturbed.
Wren takes my face in her soft palms, dragging my focus back to where it should be—on her . Her feather-light touch ghosts over my left eye. “You’re bleeding…”
I release a little growl. “I don’t fucking care.”
Rivers of my blood could flow right now and I wouldn’t give a single fuck.
All that need vibrating through me seeks an outlet.
Coupled with the animalistic desire to reclaim her—to prove that she’s still mine—I’m barely clinging to control.
“It looks bad, Atlas.”
Kissing her again, I keep my lips against hers as I try to assuage her concerns. “It’s nothing.”
My movements become more frantic.
The need grows.
Amped up by the adrenaline still flooding my system.
Fueled by her soft caresses and the shift of her hips against my cock, even contained in my shorts and cup.
I move straight over to the shower and reach behind her to crank on the water. She yelps as the cold spray hits us, and I press her back against the tile, giving me better leverage to devour her mouth and keep her exactly where I want her.
She kisses me fiercely, returning the intensity I’m showing her, not shying away or running from me when I’m like this.
“I’m so proud of you.”
Her whispered words melt into the sound of the falling water, and I drop my forehead against hers, closing my eyes and releasing the breath it feels like I’ve been holding the entire fight.
“I couldn’t do it.” I lift my head and meet her gaze again, her thick lashes now wet and clinging together. “I couldn’t risk losing you.”
It had nothing to do with wanting the belt.
Or even the Hawkes needing it.
Nothing to do with wanting to please her grandfather or even to appease my own arrogance.
I just couldn’t do it.
Not when I kept hearing her threat in my head.
Not when I knew she was right.
It just took almost losing her to see it.
I kiss her again, pressing my body into hers. She grazes her nails across my neck, and I groan against her lips. The water starts to warm, steam finally rising around us, and she grinds her hips against mine, rolling her core against me in a desperate, seeking motion that only makes me even more intent to satisfy her quickly.
She grabs at the thick waistband of my shorts. “Get these off.”
“Fuck yes, Little Bird, that’s the plan.”
I step back long enough for her to slide her hands into the trunks and shove them down, along with my groin protector, and I kick them to the side in a wet splash. My freed cock bobs up, and her hand finds it immediately.
She strokes root to tip, brushing her thumb across the pre-cum already beading on the head.
A low groan rumbles in my chest. “Fuck, Wren…”
My body trembles as I lift her legs back up so she can wrap them around me again. Her skirt rides up her hips, and she glides the head of my cock through her slick core.
I glance down between us to find her pussy completely bare. “You’re not wearing any underwear?”
The corners of her lips curl up slightly. “You told me you always want to fuck after a fight. I was betting on you doing the right thing tonight.”
Fucking hell, this woman…
Even pissed at me.
Even knowing there was a chance I was going to throw the fight.
She still believed in me.
She trusted me deep down.
I tunnel my hand into her hair, angling her head so I can take her mouth in a devastatingly brutal kiss. “Fuck, I love you.”
No one has ever understood me, has ever just let me be me the way she has. Not even Astrid. There were always questions. Pushes in other directions. Attempts to steer me toward where they saw my future.
Never with her.
She saw what I wanted, and she bent over backward to ensure I got it.
I can’t imagine what life would’ve been like had I lost her, if I had let her go.
That won’t happen again.
Never.
Never.
Never.
I drive into her in one hard thrust, stilling deep, while the hot water pelts the back of my neck and shoulders and cascades over my face, washing away the sweat and the blood.
She arches, tipping her head back against the tile with a gasp, hands looping around my neck and nails digging into my nape.
That sharp sting spurs me on, and I drag my hips back and drive into her again, shoving her back against the unyielding wall.
A low, needy groan floats from her parted lips, and I dip my head to run my tongue up the length of her neck to capture the next little sound she releases.
I snap my hips hard on my next thrust, and she bucks against me, her pussy contracting, squeezing me so tightly that my balls threaten to seize up immediately.
“Fucking hell, Wren.” I plunge into her relentlessly, forcing her head up to meet my gaze with a firm grip on her chin. “You don’t ever threaten to leave me again, Little Bird.”
I drag my hips back and drive them forward, grinding my pelvis against her clit.
She groans and struggles to take a breath between my thrusts. “Don’t-don’t ever do anything stupid enough to make me threaten it again.”
Such a little spitfire.
Not afraid to stand her ground or tell me to fuck off when I need to hear it.
I grin at her, brushing my thumb over her quivering bottom lip. “Deal.”
The rest of my ability to think or speak falls away as I set a punishing rhythm designed to take both of us over that edge fast.
Any minute now, someone will be pounding on that door, looking for me, but I won’t stop for anything.
Wren’s mewls and moans fill my ears, mingling with the harsh snap of my hips, the water cascading around us, and the raw animal sounds being ripped from my throat with each thrust.
She tightens around me again, her body trembling, and I can’t tell if the water on her cheeks is from the shower or tears. I lean forward and drag my tongue across one.
The salty flavor makes me pull back slightly and slow my pace. “You okay, Little Bird?”
She nods, whimpering. “Keep going. Don’t stop. Don’t ever fucking stop.”
WREN
I hate begging.
Despise the needy, desperate sound in my voice.
Abhor how much my happiness is tied to this man.
But I’d be lying if I said I could live without him.
Without this .
I was an idiot to even suggest it because walking away from Atlas would have been impossible. Just like it would be now—and not just simply due to the way my legs shake, waiting for him to plunge into me again, for him to fall back into that mindless rhythm that already has me so close.
“Please…”
Atlas issues a low growl and seems to take my words to heart, his hips snapping faster, his cock driving into me harder, filling me so completely. The pace becomes so frantic that I have to cling to him with every ounce of strength I possess to keep from sliding across the slick tile.
He grazes his teeth along my jaw, up to that spot behind my ear that always drives me wild. He kisses me there. Then a soft, wet suck before he moves to my ear and bites.
The sharp zing of pain makes me buck against him, my clit pulsing, and he uses his massive, strong body to pin me harder to the wall. He grinds his pelvis against mine, angling me to give him just the right position to rub directly on that spot sure to send me soaring.
Fuck, yes…
This is what I needed.
His power.
The strength.
Hard, straining muscles.
Ragged breaths.
All of it.
Atlas’ beauty lies in his ability to be so many things—rough, violent, relentless, and brutal, yet attentive, sweet, and oh so driven to please. He wouldn’t be who he is without all of that, and seeing the agony he was suffering in knowing he had to make that decision in the ring made me wonder if he would lose this.
But the hot water thundering down around us washes away everything.
The blood trickling from the gash above his eye.
The sweat.
And most importantly, the worries I had going into tonight.
All that exists in this moment is us coming together again—what we should have done last night instead of arguing about something that was never going to be resolved with words.
Atlas knew, in his heart, what he had to do.
He just needed time to figure it out for himself.
To get to the place where he could land that final blow and seize what is rightfully his—the same way he’s taking me now.
Because I am his.
I always have been.
Only now, he possesses me in a completely different way. One that goes bone and soul deep. Each sharp drive of his thick cock and roll of his hips builds heat low in my belly.
I whimper and grind against him harder, desperately chasing the same thing he is. Unable to grasp it myself.
He sucks on my earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure straight between my legs, then releases it slowly. “You’re going to come on my cock, Little Bird.”
His normally smooth voice has taken on a deep, gravelly tone that makes my pussy throb and clench around him.
I nod. “Yes…”
I’ll do anything he asks right now.
Anything.
“I want you to sing, Little Bird.” He growls against my lips, crushing his to mine violently. “I want anyone walking past this locker room to hear you. Do you understand me?”
I bob my head again, and he seizes my mouth as he slides one hand down between us to rub his thumb directly across my clit. The contact makes a low keening noise slip from my mouth into his. He swallows the sound with a satisfied groan, thrusting harder, and when he pinches and twists that tiny nub, a brilliant flash of white-hot light engulfs me.
My mouth falls open on a cry that rips through the locker room, reverberating off the tile surrounding us, filling my ears along with Atlas’ growl of satisfaction.
He redoubles his efforts, my hips bucking against his wildly as he pushes me through the flood of orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure threatens to drown me. An aggressive, demanding rush of ecstasy cresting and crashing over me.
I clench around his still driving cock.
“That’s it, Little Bird.” He grunts as he continues to plow into me. “Look at me.”
Still twitching, utterly overwhelmed by the sparks firing through every nerve in my body, I force my eyes open to meet his.
Pure carnal need stares back.
Jaw clenched.
Corded muscles in his neck taut under vibrant ink.
Blood flowing down the side of his face.
He looks every bit the brutal warrior he is as he finally comes on a roar that sounds half anguish and half relief.
“Fuck!” He collapses against me, and my body goes limp, only his keeping me pinned in place. His tongue snakes out over my collarbone, then he sucks there gently. “Let’s never fight again, Little Bird.”
The torment edging his words matches what I’ve felt since he walked out the door last night.
I manage a slight nod and a breathy, “Okay,” and he drags his head back, taking my cheek in his still-wrapped palm.
Blood now seeps rapidly from the wound over his eye, the Vaseline smoothed into it not enough to stop its flow, especially under the water.
“Atlas…you’re bleeding badly.”
He raises the brow, as if it doesn’t bother him to have his face split open. “That’s the last thing I’m thinking about right now while my cock is still buried inside you, Little Bird.”
I grin, but seeing the wound allows the harsh reality of the situation to set in far too quickly. The last vestiges of that floaty, post-orgasmic haze fade the longer I examine his face. “What are we going to do?”
There isn’t any need to expand on my question.
Atlas knows exactly what I’m asking.
He sighs and buries his face against my neck again, keeping the open wound off my skin. “I am going to make another attempt to get Satriano to let me pay off Coen’s debt.”
“What about all the money he lost, though?” Satriano just lost billions when Atlas knocked out Gordon. “You’re not paying that…”
His jaw goes hard against mine, and he lifts his head. “No, I’m not. And I’ll tell him as much. Like I told Damon—it’s a him problem. I refuse to let him use his bad business decision against me.”
“And if he threatens me?”
A sinister growl slips from Atlas’ lips, his eyes going icy dark blue. “Then I will relish ripping his jugular out with my bare hands.”
The fact that he isn’t joking should probably scare me. That he’s capable of that kind of violence. But it’s somehow comforting to know the lengths he’ll go to in order to protect this baby and me.
“And what if he won’t accept your money for Coen?”
He grits his jaw again, grinding his teeth back and forth as he considers the possibility. “Then Coen suffers the consequences, whatever they might be.”
“Are you going to tell everyone what he did?”
It’s clear everyone was in the dark tonight. No one said a word, and everyone acted thrilled that he was back in town for the opening and the fight. The Hawkes don’t have a clue what he’s done or what it might mean for him and them.
Someone has to alert them.
They have to know.
Atlas feathers light kisses across my cheek and my lips. “I have to. Everyone has to be ready for what Satriano could do, and I don’t think he has any intention of coming clean himself.”
I shake my head. “Probably not, since he hasn’t already.”
He should have.
A little shiver rolls through me.
Atlas rubs his hands on my arms. “Are you cold?”
“No…” Even though I said I’m not, he reaches over and nudges up the temperature on the shower. “I’m just worried about what might be coming.”
My hand automatically slides between us and over my stomach. It won’t be too long before our baby is here and we’ll have another person to protect from whatever Satriano may try.
Atlas slides his hand over mine, the thick tape wet against my skin. “I know, Little Bird. Me, too. But whatever it is, we face it together. Always, right?”
I nod, fighting back tears that badly want to fall. “Always. And right now, you need to go get stitches and have the ring doc give you a full exam. You got rocked hard.”
He scowls at me. “He only landed a few good shots.”
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t get hurt, Atlas.” I drift my hand up to his side. “How are your ribs?”
Gordon got him good there.
He grimaces as if just now realizing he should be in pain. “I’m sure I’ll feel it once all the adrenaline completely wears off, but I’m fine, Wren. Really.”
For so many months, he’s been insisting things are okay when he’s been battling his injury, the pressure of the Hawke expectations, the reality of the opening, and facing his toughest opponent yet. Then throw in Gramps’ death and Satriano—he hasn’t really been fine in a very long time.
But this time, I actually believe him.
Glancing down at my soaked clothes, I laugh, sliding my hands over his shoulders. “Um…how am I getting out of here like this?”
He grins playfully. “You’re going to throw on one of my extra T-shirts and a pair of my sweatpants—”
“They’re going to be huge on me!”
A slow smirk spreads across his face, and he nips at my lip. “That’s okay, Little Bird. Everyone will just know I fucked you in here.”
I gape at him. “Atlas…”
“What?” His brow rises again, sending more blood oozing from the wound. “Like they didn’t already when I charged out of the ring and practically threw you over my shoulder like a caveman?”
I smirk at him, annoyed but also insanely infatuated with this man—barbaric behavior and all. “I can’t believe you skipped the interview and seeing the ring doc.”
“I had something more important to do.” He tilts my chin up, ensuring my eyes lock with his. “You’re always going to come first, Little Bird. You and the baby.”
“What about the rest of the Hawkes?”
His back stiffens slightly, and he presses his forehead to mine. “You know I’ll always do anything I can to protect them. I can’t not do that. But I won’t risk losing you again…”
“Even if it means doing something that pisses them off?”
Atlas chuckles and brushes his lips across mine sweetly. “It certainly won’t be the first time.”
I grin against his mouth. “You always were a rebel.”
“I know, Little Bird. And I plan to keep it that way.”