Hello, I get the impression that Mox needs to redeem himself somewhat in order for there to be a happy ever after. Well, here is a chapter that should send him in that direction. :) As always, reviews are welcome. PS - If you like this story, then check out my older Ambrose/Shield fics - Noticed, Fangirl and On Tour.

I stay where I am, relishing the peace and quiet of the dojo. I couldn't tell you how long I lay in that ring with his hoodie wrapped around me. It surrounded me with his scent, a clean and sensual aftershave that also brought comfort as I still wanted to be near him, even though he had abandoned me in here.

I drag myself out of the ring and pull on my clothes which lay where he had discarded them. My top was ripped in two so I was glad of his gift as I zipped it up. I hear a soft knock at the door and part of me hoped it was Mox. But the figure that slipped quietly into the room was Shota. He approached me full of concern. I must have looked a mess.

Miss, please let me assist you,' he said as I waved him away. I didn't want to show anyone how I was feeling. I was trying hard to look normal when I was exhausted inside.

'I'm fine, thank you,' I say.

"He looked sympathetic and was his tone was very respectful. 'Please, I have your things just as I promised.' He handed me the little cardboard wallet which contained my hotel keys and my mobile.

'Thanks,' I say. Then curiosity overcame me. 'Have you,...seen him?' There was no need to name names, Shota knew who I meant. He nodded.

'Yes, Master Moxley has instructed me to escort you back to your hotel. He is very concerned about your welfare and insisted.'

I wasn't sure whether to be grateful for his concern or angry because he sent his apprentice to see to my needs. My previous clients had never left me like this.

'I guess it's pointless in saying no?' I say. Shota was kind and I didn't want him to get into trouble.

"Shota smiled, 'This is very true, Miss. Your car is waiting outside. Come, please.'

Awakening in the comfortable king-size bed in my luxury hotel room, I stretched over to the bedside cabinet to retrieve my phone and check the time. "Ow," I groaned to myself. The dull ache that seemed to permeate every muscle was still there. Not as bad as yesterday but I still hadn't ventured out of my room since Shota had helped me into it two nights ago. I had spent a lot of time sleeping, ordering room service and thinking about Jon Moxley.

I seriously underestimated him. Turns out that a quick internet search had revealed to me that the guy had a serious hardcore past. I didn't realize that in his early days, he was a crazy son of a bitch – drinking, womanizing and beating the shit out of anyone that stood in his way. He also had a high pain threshold so he didn't seem to mind having light-tubes smashed onto his head or being suplexed onto a bed of thumbtacks.

"As part of my booking I had received ringside tickets to his match yesterday but I felt too shaky to attend. I watched it in Japanese and found no need for English subtitles to see how dominant Moxley was. His match blew up the internet. Crazy to think that he was once a comedy interlude at his old company. I wasn't laughing once he'd done with me though, I didn't expect to feel so broken and used. Maybe it was the way he had left me abruptly without a word. He'd not checked on me since and that hurt almost as much as the physical pain I was experiencing. Tomorrow I would leave Japan and return to the US. I guess my work here was done.

The hotel room was a suite, spacious with a partially separated lounge and balcony which overlooked the city. It was mid-afternoon and I'd showered, dressed and had ordered room service as I felt hungry for the first time in two days. I was feeling better and had decided to head out later to take in the sights and sounds of Japan before my flight tomorrow. I was contemplating getting in touch with Shota, who had shown me so much kindness, to see if he might want a drink. My motives for that were not entirely altruistic. I wanted to know if Mox had mentioned me. I wanted to know how he was, who he was and explore why I wanted him so much, still. Even after the way he had treated me.

I was padding across the lounge to retrieve a glass of water from the bedside table when I heard the door click open. "Just leave it by the balcony, thanks," I called, assuming my food had arrived.

The voice that answered was not Japanese. It was a low American rumble. "Your room service just got canceled."

Was I hearing things? I paced into the lounge and stopped dead in my tracks. Jon Moxley was in my hotel room, a bottle of Asahi beer in hand. He was dressed all in black, a Gold's Gym T-shirt with black jeans and a studded belt, reminiscent of his Shield days which added to the menace in his countenance. As soon as he stepped toward me, I instinctively dropped to my knees and prepared myself for whatever he wanted. I heard him chuckle, for I dare not look him in the eye. Then, I felt his hand stroke my hair, his fingers sweeping down my flushed cheeks and under my chin.

"Get up," he said softly.

Confused, I immediately responded and rose to stand. My pulse was racing and I could practically feel my heart beating in my throat. How did he get in? Then I realized why he had asked Shota to take my room key. I could have sworn that the hotel reception had given me two keys, but I could only find one. Now I knew where it had gone.

"What are you doing here?" I asked shakily.

He almost looked offended. He narrowed his blue eyes and took a long, measured sip of his beer before answering evenly.

"You didn't come to see my match. I just wanted to check you were OK."

"Oh," I said, completely taken aback. So, he noticed my absence then. That was exciting. The way he'd left me broken and alone in the dojo, I thought I would never see him again.

"I also wondered if you wanted some company. Dinner maybe and a few drinks." He gestured to a six-pack of beer sitting on the coffee table that he must have brought with him. "To say thank you for helping me prepare."

"I eyed him warily. He seemed so different from the man who had me at his sexual mercy forty-eight hours ago. As much as I enjoyed my first encounter with him, I had been longing to have another chance to get to know him better. I was keen to experience this softer, attentive side of Jon Moxley.

"That would be cool, thanks," I say.

"He took a beer, removed the bottle top off by banging it on the corner of the coffee table and handed it to me. "Kanpai," he said and I repeated the Japanese salutation and clinked his bottle before taking a mouthful of the ice-cold beverage.

"So, did you even watch my match?" he asked.

"Yes, it was very violent," I answered. "Wild. Did you actually bite the guy?"

Moxley smiled. "Yep, well now they all know what they are up against. Thanks to you.

"You're welcome," I say as if I'd just held a door open or something just as mundane and move towards the sofas. I gently lower myself onto the big squashy chair, groaning lightly as I land.

He notices. "I've hurt you haven't I, baby?" he says. His voice is full of concern.

"It's nothing," I say. The last thing I want him to think is that I can't handle it.

Immediately, he is by my side, placing his drink down and caressing my arm. "I'm not here for an exact repeat of the dojo. Not that I wouldn't love to fuck the shit out of you right now, but I think you need something else tonight."

My insides liquefy at his words and his nearness. I can't help but lean into his chest, savoring his clean masculine scent. He smells gorgeous and his arms encircle me. He whispers in my ear. "I'm going to make you feel so good." His mouth ever so gently meets mine and I am suddenly in heaven.