Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
CRESSIDA
This time, I don’t push my way through the mass of bodies to the front. I stay in the back, watching him, knowing he’s searching for me. He’s swept his gaze over the crowd more than once from where he stands in the shadows near the door leading to the dressing area.
I feel like I fit in a little more than I did last time, with my jeans, tank top, and black combat boots. No one has even given me a second glance.
A loud crack echoes through the room, and everyone shouts. Last time I saw Soren fight, he waited to make his move. That’s what he does—toys with his opponents and tires them out—but this time he came out swinging as soon as the bell rang, and now his opponent is sprawled on the floor.
The crowd cheers loudly as he stands in the middle of the ring, gaze sweeping over every face once more.
I know the second he spots me because his lip twitches, just barely, and suddenly it’s like all the oxygen leaves my lungs.
Before I can move a muscle, he’s making his way toward me.
The crowd parts for him, some calling his name, others patting him on the shoulder, congratulating him, but he ignores them all, his focus locked firmly on me.
And just like that, the roar of the crowd fades, drowned out by the pounding in my chest. He’s walking through the chaos, but it feels like he’s bringing it with him and dragging it straight to me.
Then he stops directly in front of me. “Miss Knight.” His eyes drag down my body, stopping just for a breath on my cleavage before they lower past my tight jeans, all the way down to my combat boots, and then he leisurely trails upward until he finds my eyes again.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” I bite out.
Someone bumps into me, and his hands shoot out to protect us.
“You did. Hurricane it is, then. Come to the back with me.” When I don’t say anything or move, he smirks. “I could carry you again, if you prefer.”
I know he’ll do it, so I step back and hold up my hands. “No, I’m very capable of moving my own legs.”
He eyes me skeptically before he does what he always does, clasps my hand, and pulls me along behind him.
He doesn’t let go until we’re in the dressing room, where he opens his locker and pulls out a few things.
He’s not wearing a shirt, and I can’t help but admire his back, how toned and muscular it is.
With nothing else to do, I stand here, awkwardly, and stare at him. He steps back from his locker and drops his shorts, showcasing his perfectly round ass. Noah has a hairy ass, but Soren’s is smooth.
Without warning, he turns, and his cock fills my view. “It’s rude to stare.”
I whip my gaze up to his face, expecting disapproval, but I can tell for a change he’s joking by the slight curl of his lips. “But as luck would have it, I don’t give a fuck.” Soren turns and walks to the open showers.
“Why are there no other fighters in here?” I ask.
“Because I own this heap of shit, and I make them go to the women’s side.” Of course, he owns it, the control freak that he is. Makes sense, I guess.
“So, where do the women go?”
He turns on the water and looks back at me, his gaze dripping with condescension, like I’ve just told a joke he doesn’t think is funny. “No women are allowed to fight here,” he states categorically.
Stepping under the steaming spray, he makes sure to face me. And I can’t help how my gaze drifts to his ridged abdominals and his cock, which is semi-hard.
“Care to join me?” he asks, not commenting about my staring this time. I think he likes it.
I ignore the question and sit down on one of the benches. I might as well be comfortable while I watch.
“Did you think about my offer?” he asks.
“Another newspaper reached out to me and offered me a job,” I tell him.
He pauses, his hands on his chest. “And?”
“I want to write what I want to write.”
“And you want to write about me,” he says, stating the obvious.
“I’m a curious woman, Soren. I want to know things that others would usually shy away from.”
“Yes, I know.”
He turns the water off, not bothering to grab a towel, and walks toward me, leaving a trail of water behind him.
He stops just in front of me, his cock almost in my face.
I’m thankful I shoved my hands under my thighs when I sat down, because the way he’s looking at me, the way heat rolls off him like a second skin, his cock bobbing long and thick and almost in my face, I don’t trust myself not to reach out and touch him.
I tilt my head back so I can meet his eyes, and he reaches down and touches my chin. “I’ll buy those too,” he says, as if that’s the obvious answer.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Everything has a price.”
“I don’t,” I tell him.
“No, so it appears.” His hand drops from my face as he steps back to his locker, where he starts drying himself. “But we have a conflict of interest now,” he states.
“How so?”
“Because you want me to fuck you.”
I immediately start shaking my head as he continues to get dressed.
Yes, a small part of me can’t deny the attraction that is there, not that I would admit that to him, though.
Why would I inflate his ego more than it already is?
When he’s fully clothed, he turns to me and says, “Come back to my place. We can discuss your interview.”
“That seems highly inappropriate,” I reply as I rise to my feet.
“Does it, though?”
“Yes, it does. Do you bring your other employees back to your apartment?”
“No,” he says as he pulls his keys from his bag.
“Then, I think I should go home. Was that all you wanted to discuss?”
“Come back to mine.” He completely ignores my question. His agenda is the only thing on his mind.
“No,” I insist.
He steps closer and leans down so his lips are dangerously close to mine. “Do you plan to go home and pleasure yourself with a toy, when I’m willing to assist you in that department?”
My eyes widen and then narrow at his words.
After a moment, I shoot him a sly smile and say, “Maybe,” before I turn, intending to leave through the door he brought me in. But before I can take a step, he yanks me back so I slam into him, my hands coming up to his chest to steady myself.
“Use the back door. It’s less crowded,” he says before I can tell him to stop touching me.
Asshole.
He backs away, walks to a back door I overlooked before, and pushes it open.
“Did you drive here?”
“No.”
“I’ll take you.”
“No, I got here on my own, and I can see myself home on my own as well.” I raise a brow at him as he continues to hold the door open, waiting for me.
“I’m driving you home. So, get moving.” He jerks his head, indicating for me to get out.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Does that work for you, telling a woman what to do?”
His gray eyes lock on mine. “Yes.”
“Of course it does. Do you say ‘please, drop your panties’ as well?”
“I don’t say ‘please.’”
“Yeah, figured as much.” I shrug and walk outside, pulling out my phone to request a ride. Then he takes my cell from my hand and strides toward his car without hesitation.
“Hey!” I follow after him.
He unlocks the car and opens the back door to throw his bag inside before closing it and then turning to face me. “Get in the car,” he orders.
“Give me my phone back.”
“Get in the car,” he repeats, opening the passenger door. “Now.”
The voices of a few drunk people leaving the fight drift over to us.
“No.”
“I will pick you up and put you in there myself,” he threatens.
“I’ll get out,” I sass back.
“I will put you on my lap as I drive.”
“That’s mighty dangerous.”
“I like to live on the edge.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do,” I say with an eye roll. To which he grinds his jaw.
He slips my phone into his pocket and then takes a step in my direction.
“I know kung fu,” I warn, and his lips twitch.
“I’m sure you do,” he drawls.
I don’t actually know any fighting styles, but I thought it might be a warning to leave me alone.
Clearly, the man doesn’t listen, because he lifts me into his arms and hauls me to the car like I’m a piece of luggage.
At the open driver’s side door, he pivots and then climbs in.
I bend my legs, without even thinking, as he slides the seat back so we both fit.
“Nope, this is not happening,” I tell him, trying to push away. But he’s strong and doesn’t let me go. I’m now half in the car with one knee between his legs.
“You either get into the passenger seat, or I’ll keep you right here until I get you home.”
I clench my teeth as I glare at him. “You are not in charge of me. You told me to come here tonight, and I did.”
“Yes, about that—”
“Nope. We are not discussing that now. You’re annoying me.” I try to push away again, but he’s so fucking strong.
“Passenger or driver’s side?” he asks.
“Neither.” The word leaves me accompanied by a growl.
He shrugs, closing the door, and then maneuvers my body so he can slide in properly. I end up basically straddling him, my knees on either side of his hips, and my back against the steering wheel.
If I lower myself just a little, I would be able to feel him between my legs. Nope. I can’t think those things. Staring at him, I try to give him my best fuck-you glare. And all he does is smirk.
“Your place or mine?” he asks.
“Neither,” I say again.
In response, he pulls me down until I have no choice but to sit on his lap and feel him there.
“Remove your hands,” I demand.
“You didn’t use your manners.”
“Move your fucking hands,” I say with a bright tone and a smile. “Better?” I cock my head to the side in challenge, watching his jaw tighten.
“You know what that mouth does to me,” he says, voice low and raspy. Then, as quick as lightning, his hands are on my face, holding me in place while he leans forward. And before I know what’s happening, his lips are on mine, and I’m opening my mouth to let his tongue slide inside.
Again.
I have to stop letting him in, but gosh, can he kiss. He tastes like so many possibilities and all the wrong things all at once. I know I should stop; this isn’t right. But my hands somehow find their way to his chest through his open shirt, caressing his hot skin when I should be slapping him.
He slides one hand down my body, slowly, as if he’s afraid he might frighten me.
Or maybe he’s just taking his time with me.
I’m not sure which. When his hand lands on my ass, he squeezes it and then pulls me even closer and rubs his massive cock against me until pleasure starts spiking at my core, and without thinking, I push myself down more so I’m pressed as tight as I can get against him.
God, he feels so good.
A knock on the window makes me jump, and my teeth scrape his lip as I pull back.
He locks eyes with me and smirks before another knock comes.