Page 30 of Body Lock

Not a single chance of having him to myself, it wasn't allowed. A rule that I needed to follow, needed to obey.

My father cut in. “Whoa, Cadence. I invited him to come and watch. He has potential, and we both know that.” He lifted his hand and patted Quinn's shoulder. “Quinn, watch some fights, think about what I said. I'll find you later. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ring to run.” Pulling a cigar from his pocket, he lit the end, and strolled off.

Staring at Quinn, anger and rage filled my gut. I wanted him for myself, needed him just for me.

It pained me to think he wanted to be here, wanted to see what this place was all about. If he didn't, he wouldn't have accepted my father's invitation.

“So, you're thinking about fighting?” I said, hands resting against my hips.

“I didn't say that,” he said, eyes running over my body, watching my breasts as they rose from the heat in my lungs.

“Then what did you come here for?” My arms pulled up, trying to cover my chest. The effort was fruitless, it only pushed my breasts higher, the light pink flesh spilled out over the seam.

His eyes remained firm, hand dropping to shift his cock. I wanted him to bend me over the bar, fuck me till I couldn't feel my legs. My skin heated from head to toe, while ice cold sweat hardened my veins.

He was everything I needed, everything I wanted... And everything I wasn't supposed to have.

Quinn's tongue ran across his bottom lip, eyes lingering over my lips before meeting mine. “You weren't in the bar when I left the yesterday. Which by the way, thanks for the heads up, the meeting wasn't for a 'thank you'.” Wrinkles formed across his forehead as he clicked his tongue.

The muscle moved up and down, hitting the roof of his mouth, and rolling forward. My body flooded like a live wire, ready to burst. His tongue teased me, enticing my body to let it fall over my sex, slip around the folds and pluck at my needy button.

I had to force the heat away, shove it to the side and bring myself back into reality. He was here to watch, to observe, and if my father had his way...

Become one of his soldiers.

“Sorry, my dad-”

Cutting me off, his hand shifted in the air. “No, I get it, don't worry.” His fingertips came up and slid down his jaw.

“Are you going to consider my dad's offer?” I asked, worry flooding my expression. My brows turned up, lips thin and tight.

“Well, it got me next to you again. That in itself is a bonus to me.”

“No.” I snapped. “No, don't use me in any of this. My father isn't the man you might think he is. He doesn't care about you or how well you fight. It's only about him, it's always about him.” The tears started to well up, but I pulled them back, holding it in.

I don't cry.

Not any more.

The strength of Quinn's hands fell around my wrists, pulling me into the bar. He stared into my eyes, leaning in as close as he could. His cologne curled up through the air, hitting my senses. A surge of chills climbed my spine, goosebumps mimicking the electricity crawling over my skin.

The warmth of his lips hovered beside my cheek, a soft whisper fluttering into my ear. “I only came here hoping to see you.”

I wanted to grab his chiseled jaw, grip his hair and kiss him. He was everything I tried to run from, and everything I fucking wanted.

His fingers stroked my hair, my face falling in closer, all control being lost in his touch. Swiftly, I turned my head away, forcing space between us. The roar of the crowd pulled me back into reality, into where I was.

From the corner of my eye, the fire of my fathers black stare burned into my soul. He sat, rolling his fingers together, face still as stone.

Shit. We're too close. Did he see him touch me?

Fuck, if he saw that...

Instinctively, I lurched back. Quinn's lip tugged to one side, a light chuckle rolling off his tongue.

Shifting against the bar, he turned towards the ring. As he watched the fighters, a seriousness fell over his face. His body tensed, each ridge of muscle bulged beneath the fabric.

“So, are you going to take my fathers offer?” Dipping towards the floor, I swept the broken glass into a pan. My question was met by silence. Standing and dumping the debris into the trash I asked,“Well?”

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