Page 41 of Body Lock

A tremor ceased my muscles, the cup jolting in my hand, sloshing hot coffee onto my wrist. I stood silent, waiting for him to continue. He wasn't done his barrage of anger, there were more insults he was going to throw at me.

He stared at me with a wide open gaze, the darkness of his iris' overtaking his brown eyes. “I watched you leave, I watched you leavewith him.You don't get to make friends with my fighters, you know that's the rule.”

Despite every instinct I had to keep my mouth shut, let my words fester in the back of my throat and never form, this time they spilled like water. “He's not your fighter.Quinn,he doesn't work for you.”

My father's eyes lit with excitement, but not in a playful manner. His face read loud and clear to me, saying,“Oh is that what you think?”

The corrugated muscles of his cheeks displaced with a smile. “He fought last night for me didn't he? So, that makes him mine.” Tapping the book with his thumbs, he snidely said, “Which makes him out of your reach... And you out of his.”

Flushing blood-red, the heat coated my brain, melting over every nerve through my body. “You can't do that. He didn't agree to work for you,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

A growl of laughter filtered out, his stomach rising and falling as he chuckled. “My dear, have I taught you nothing? Quinn, hewill be working for me.I can make sure of that now. Thanks to you.”

What did he say? Does he know?

No. No way, Quinn left before he got home.

“What are you talking about? You can't force him to.” Flaring my nostrils, I slammed the mug down on the counter.

“I saw how he looked at you, and how you looked at him.” Pressing back from the table, he walked into the kitchen, his face floating mere inches from mine. The nauseating smell of eggs and coffee wafted over me as he spoke. “I've got him in my grasp now, and if he still says no...” Inhaling a loud slick breath, the wind whistled through his lips. “Well, let's just hope he doesn't.” His hand draped over my hair, leaning in he kissed my cheek as he grabbed his keys and walked out the door.

Ugh, this man is sick!

How can I call him my father?

What the fuck is he planning? What the hell is talking about?

My head was a whirlwind of questions. Standing alone in the kitchen, his last words rode my lungs with choler, the petulant feelings tearing at my insides.

I wished I didn't harbor this guilt, this empty emotion of wanting to change my dad, the feeling like I owed him hanging over my head.

As much as I knew my mother's death wasn't my fault, I guess I've always tried to earn his love.

Show him I'm here for him too, even if she's not anymore.

I wanted him to see me as his daughter, and nothing else.

This was too much for me to process, and I didn't want to think about my dad anymore, or what he said. Pushing him from my thoughts, I pulled Quinn in his place, letting myself fall back to last night.

My father was gone, I was alone, and I definitely needed to focus on better things, sexier things, the wet dreams of my reality.

What I needed was a shower, a long, hot shower.

Turning the handle for the water, it fell across my wrist as I waited for it to be steaming hot. Wiping the fog from the mirror, Quinn's face reflected behind my image.

I couldn't get him out of my fucking head.

His unassailable muscles flooded with ink, their feel against my skin; I wanted more, I needed more.

Bringing my hand over the back of my neck, I pulled it down over my collar bone, floating it over my breasts.

God, I want him again. He felt perfect inside my pussy, and knew just how to touch me.

My fingers crawled down to the warming mound below, softly pressing into the seam. Stepping into the tub, the heat of the shower mimicked the heat growing in my belly, a tender need for him glazing my sex.

What is it about him that drives me fucking wild?

I never expected to be pulled in so quickly by a man like him. The guys in my past all seemed to replicate who he was;So why is he different?

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