Page 36 of You Had Me At Thirteen

‘That’s enough,’ Wren says, pulling Jordan’s attention from me. ‘Who am I fighting tonight?’

I grab Wren’s arm. ‘Wait. What? You’re fighting?’

Duh… there’s a large cage in the centre of the room.

He glances at me. ‘You wanted to know what I do every Thursday night. What did you think I’d be doing when we got here?’ He nods at the cage. ‘This is it.’

I swallow hard as I stare at the cage below us. Is this any better than the kinky stuff I thought he was into?

Jordan steps around Wren and wiggles his eyebrows. ‘Don’t worry, babe. Wren’s the best we have,’ he says. He turns to Wren. ‘And you’re fighting Josh Wheatley. Should be quick.’

Wren nods. ‘Watch her for me.’

‘Will do.’ Jordan salutes him and takes a seat, patting the chair next to his for me to join him.

Wren waits until I’m seated, bending to my level, placing both hands on my bare thighs. ‘Jordan will look after you, okay?’ His voice is quiet, gentle as he searches my face.

All I can do is nod, unable to form a sentence worth speaking.

With a quick squeeze of my thighs, he glares at Jordan. ‘And don’t fucking touch her, or I’ll have your fucking hands. You’ll never fight again.’ He smirks, but I’m sure he’s half serious.

Would he really cut someone’s hands off for touching me?

Jordan rolls his eyes before throwing an arm over the back of my chair. Wren blinks at him, the smile fading before he stalks off with a shake of his head.

My heart races as heat pools between my thighs. Wren’s protectiveness is making me horny, when really I should be petrified of what I’m about to witness.

Jordan nudges me with his shoulder. ‘They call him The Butcher.’

I frown at him. ‘The Butcher?’

Jordan’s lips pull up on one side. ‘You’ll see why soon enough.’

Bloody hell.

When I planted myself into Wren’s passenger seat tonight, I didn’t know this was what I was getting myself into. It feels like I’ve stepped into some sort of secret society shit, and I should be watching my back from now on.

A few minutes pass before the music shuts off and some dude with a microphone steps forward. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he says as he holds up a hand to quiet the crowd. ‘The next round… and you’ll enjoy this one… we have Josh Wheatley up against our very own, Wren “The Butcher” Stevenson.’

The crowd erupts into a frenzy of wolf whistles and cheers at the mention of Wren’s name.

Jordan whistles in my ear, sending me temporarily deaf, before he points to the cage when Josh and Wren walk out. ‘Here we go.’

Wren is wearing black shorts and fingerless gloves. That’s it. His tanned skin glistens under the large fluorescent lights, a sheen of sweat coating his torso as he bounces on the spot. All his muscles are prepped, tightening and clenching under his skin. It’s hard not to be mesmerised by him.

Wren and Josh eye each other with such intensity it sends another hush over the crowd. My legs bounce, and I grip the sides of my chair so tight I’ll be lucky to come away without injury.

‘Fighters. Are you ready?’ The words echo around the room, bouncing off the walls, sending a shiver crawling up my spine and into my limbs.

Both fighters nod in unison, then Wren winks at me, a smirk on his face before he shoves a mouth guard into his mouth. At least he has some other protection. I’d hate to see his beautiful smile ruined. Although, he’d still be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

‘Fight!’

Josh bounces on his toes into the centre of the floor, his hands up as he darts side to side with his upper body. He’s the first to throw a punch, but Wren ducks and side-steps away from him.

‘He’s just playing with him,’ Jordan says in my ear.

I’m transfixed by Wren, each movement performed with such ease and grace. It’s like a dance of sorts, his movements effortless as though he’s practiced them hundreds of times before.

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