Page 23 of The Rogue's Princess

Mila changed everything.

She changed a man whose life had no direction, and she gave me one. Gave me something to live for.

Something to fight for.

“Gunner, what do you think?” I look up to see Mila waving at the blue lighting we just installed on the platform. “Do you like the color or should we change it to green?”

I pocket my phone after sending a quick text to my mother-in-law, letting her know we are nearly finished and will pick up Natalie soon. Then I stare at my wife standing on the raised platform, and a lump forms in my throat. I never thought I could love the woman any more than I already do, but every day proves me wrong. I don’t just love her . . . Mila is my life.

A year ago, when she told me she wanted to use the money her father left for her to start a training center for young adults and name it after her father, I was confused but supportive. Confused because Mila has never voiced or expressed interest in the sport, but when she pointed out how her father was passionate about helping troubled kids learn discipline instead of reckless fighting, I understood her completely and promised to support her all the way.

It’s taken a year of working on this project from creating a business plan and constructing the building for the center to working out other kinks. I did all the hiring of the staff and recruited people I have worked with before to help.

Tomorrow, we officially open The Ridge MMA and Boxing Club for everyone to access, but we’ve already had people calling in to ask about classes and register themselves as members. Suffice it to say, Mila’s passion project is doing better than any of us could’ve ever expected, and the money we get from memberships will be used to fund classes for at-risk youth.

“The blue looks amazing,” I call out to her with a proud smile on my face.

“Are you sure?” she whispers, her insecurity showing. “What if someone thinks the color is ugly?”

I shake my head as I push off the wall and start for her. I walk around the large boxing ring to the spot where my wife is standing. I extend a hand for her, and she steps down the platform to take it. “You worked so goddamned hard to design this place, pixie,” I say, sliding an arm around her little waist and drawing her flush against me. “Anyone that dares criticize any of your work is going on my hit list.”

A smile sneaks on her lips. “What other list do you have?”

“I have a few.”

“Well,” she purrs, a sound that shoots straight to my cock as it stiffens in a second. She blinks up at me, mischief written all over her face as she drags her index finger over my shirt, tugging at the buttons. “Am I on any of your lists?”

“There is one particular list that has your name on it,” I rasp, reaching up and winding my fist in her hair. “‘The fuck my wife in her brand-new building before it opens’ list. You’re the first and only name on that one.”

Her tits rise and fall with a shaky breath. “I like that list very much.”

“Me too,” I say, capturing her lips with mine in a needy kiss. She moans into it, wrapping her arms around my neck as I deepen the kiss, twining her tongue with mine. I taste the chocolate cake we shared this afternoon, and Christ, it tastes so much sweeter on her tongue.

How the hell is this woman real and what did I do to deserve someone as perfect as her?

And to think, she’s all mine now.

No one can come for her. Her stepfather disappeared into thin air, and rumor has it Crey skipped town once he managed to peel himself off the floor of the cage. His fighters all abandoned himthat night after Luca told them they could come work for him or face the same fate their former boss had.

“Gunner,” Mila whimpers, her little needy cry bringing me back to the present.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” I whisper, nipping her bottom lip teasingly and dropping my hand to her ass and squeezing her perfect mound.

“You. I want your cock,” she begs, tugging at my buttons and tearing a few on the way down. “Need it, please.”

My pulse jumps at my wife’s desperate plea, and I don’t intend to keep her waiting. I made peace with the fact that anything Mila wants, she gets. I guess it helps that we always want the same things.

Our eyes are locked together when I snake my hand under her dress and grab the waistband of her panties before tugging them down her thighs. I slip them into my pocket once she’s stepped out of them.

“You’re beautiful, pixie,” I tell her, pulling her legs apart and thrusting my middle finger into her drenched sex. “I get hard just looking at your pretty face, your beautiful eyes, and those pouty lips I love to kiss.”

Her eyes glaze over when I add another finger to her wet sex. “Oh.”

“You have no idea how crazy you drive me with your perfect tits and this pussy that’s always leaking for me.”

“Don’t stop. Please, Gunner!”

“Mine,” I growl possessively. “I’m going to feed you my fat cock and make you scream until everyone passing by hears you!”

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