Page 68 of The Boss
Rattled that again and again she surprises me, pushes me, affects me.
I hold her head to my chest. She doesn’t respond, since her arms are smashed between us. She also doesn’t try to push me away. I relax my hold, realizing I might be hurting her wrist and she looks up at me.
Her beautiful chocolate eyes search my face.
“I’m fine,” she whispers. “It barely hurts.”
Her mouth parts, those perfect lips right there.
Right fucking there.
“Good,” I say, releasing her quickly.
I turn and in two steps, I’m back out the front door, letting it slam behind me.
I call for Tink and head out in the direction of the woods. I better get my head on straight or I’m going to fall for the Italian mafia princess and she is going to stab me in the back.
Maybe literally.
CHAPTER 31
Luna
I step onto the mat at the edge of the combat side of the gym and want to smile, because fucking finally! Some training!
I have been beyond frustrated the last few days.
His giant bear-dog is leading me in circles. Marlon and I ditched her and finally found a back fence. As soon as I did Tink showed up and lost her mind with loud barks until I finally turned around to head home. Even with her excitement, the discovery was deeply disappointing because it was just a simple split rail fence. I found the back edge of the property. I’ve walked the whole place and nothing.
Nothing!
So I’m eager to spar.
But Quinn is in a mood, I can tell. He stands across from me, muscles tense beneath his usual gear—a tight black athletic shirt, cargo pants and a blank face with a telling tick in his jaw.
He’s annoyed. Or maybe angry. I pushed hard for this until he caved. Which taught me that he can and will cave to me eventually, which is, I think, what he’s truly agitated about.
That and maybe, kind of, almost…kissing me last night by the door.
He wanted to.
Ugh.
I wanted him to.
Weak, Luna!
I shake my head and focus on the task at hand. He seems even bigger right now than usual as I approach. The lighting in his state-of-the-art facility is sectioned over each area, like boxing rings. It casts long shadows over his scarred face. Makes his huge biceps and hulking chest seem even more impressive. Unfortunately, as much as I try not to think about it, he is, without question, unbelievably hot.
I have to force myself not to ogle him.
On the other hand, his eyes rake over me quickly, assessing before going back to the floor where he starts adjusting the mat. His frown deepens like he doesn’t like what he sees. I’ve stopped trying to wear anything alluring. My sports bra shows I’ve got small tits and even though I’m wearing what some people call ass leggings that are supposed to push up your cheeks, there’s not much to push up.
Oh, well.
I’m not here to attract him.
I’m here to learn from him.
