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 loudcrackechoes 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 whatIwant 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.”
