KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys(93)

Besides, a big-ticket fight would get publicity. And I don’t really want my name on a poster announcing my career choice before I tell them myself.

Although my logic is kinda messed up. Surely they’ll kill me once they find out, and maybe I ought to get killed in the ring first if I’m going down either way.

With Kit gone, I look over at McQueen, who’s taken off his sweaty tee-shirt and tossed it in the gym bag sitting on a bench. His back faces me; his broad shoulders are stretched, smooth, and tan. His large, well-defined muscles are evenly distributed on his frame and, with the waistband of his shorts slung low, my eyes linger on his ass.

I know I’m over my head ... but, just this once, I wonder if maybe that’s okay? I want to forget about the things my dad told me this morning.

The things that will literally ruin my life. No way in hell can I be a fighter if I’m Grotto’s wife. Probably if I’m anybody’s wife.

Right now, I just want to be JoJo. Because I might not be able to be her for that much longer.

And frick. Now I’m talking in third person.

Gah.

I never put myself in situations like this, where I can even consider giving in to what I want. My mind is focused on the gym and on playing my part in the family. Namely, smile and look pretty and do as I am told.

Any time a guy hits on me, I pretend I don’t hear them, brush them off without any attention. I know my family is complicated, which is why I’ve never dated anyone seriously. Never even told Lucy about all my connections. It would be messy.

The few times a guy has persisted, I played the part of a prude.

But I don’t want to be a prude right now.

Right now, I want McQueen.

“JoJo, you ready to show me that submission hold?” McQueen turns to face me, bringing me back to reality. Or maybe not reality. Maybe my absolute fantasy.

His baby blue eyes and short cropped blonde hair, his full lips and perfectly proportioned nose–everything about McQueen is perfection. A performance. Which I get, that’s his profession. But it’s like he’s almost too good. Like ... he knows exactly what he is doing.

Me? Not so much.

But I’ve held onto the V-card long enough, and I sure as hell don’t want to throw it away on Grotto.

Grotto could be out of prison in a month. Then what? I’ll lose my virginity anyway, by consummating a marriage on someone else’s terms.

Right now I have a chance.

I’m going to take it.

On my terms.





Chapter Three





McQueen



She looks at me, from head-to-toe, and for a second I think I’ve read her completely wrong, that all that sexual tension I fucking felt out there in the ring was really just her in beast-mode.

But then she meets my eyes.

Hers are filled with fucking desire.

I’m not waiting around for her to change her mind.

I walk over to her, and pull her into my arms. Her sweat is a fucking turn-on. She’s dirty and needs to be cleaned up, and I’ll fucking wash her nice and good.

I lift her by her little ass and her legs instinctively wrap around my waist.

“You’re so strong,” she says. Her eyes flicker as if she is caught off guard.

“You just saw me lifting for three fucking hours, JoJo. You know that lifting a hundred and twenty pounds is nothing. You’re light as a feather.”

“You also make a living carrying women around.”

“Have you seen my show?” I smirk, not able to read this girl at all. I carry her to the women’s locker room, kick the door shut and lock it.

“I went once.” When my eyes widen she clarifies. “My friend insisted. But I didn’t stay.”

“Why?” I set her down; the top of her head meets the center of my chest. I use a finger to lift her chin, so she can look me in the eye.

“It’s not my thing.”

“Strippers or men in general?”

“Strippers,” she says, shaking her head at me like I’m a dork.

“That’s where you’re wrong, JoJo. I’m a stripper, and you want me.” I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts, lower them an inch. “Don’t you?”

She takes a sharp breath, and I see she’s practically drooling in anticipation of what lies beneath my shorts.

“Think you can handle a man like me?”

“I have no clue.” She gives a sharp laugh. I can’t read her, but I’m gonna try.

I pull her to me. My thick cock is growing hard, but I can’t handle her standing there one more second without pressing my lips against her mouth. I need to taste her, explore her. I need to fucking know her body.

So much of her body is solid and true, exhibiting her complete control over herself, but her lips sink into mine, like she’s desperate for them. She kisses me hungrily, as if she’s never kissed a man in her life.