Page 78 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“Jesus Christ.” The words hiss out of his teeth in barely a whisper. “I don’t know how much more of this temptation I can take. Something’s gotta give, or I’m gonna snap.”

“You think she realizes she’s playing with fire?”

“She’s going to sign my death warrant. Her dad’s going to bury me six feet under. I swear to God, Marcus, if she keeps tempting me like this, one of these days I’m going to act. Then God help us both.”

“Hold it together.” I tap him on the chest. He spins and goes in the opposite direction from the girls as if he’s trying to put as much distance between him and Melissa as he can. God help him, because I don’t think he has much restraint left.

Brandy makes her way to me.

“Marcus,” her sultry voice purrs.

“Babe. You’re making me want to skip this fight and ride away with you so I can do unspeakable things to that body.” I lay my hands on her hips and pull her against me, my eyes dropping to her lace covered tits.

“I think you’d regret that.”

“The hell I would,” I practically growl.

She lets out a deep, sexy chuckle that gets my dick hard. “Well, I think the club would flay your ass, and I’m kind of partial to it. So…”

“Oh, you are, are you?”

“I am, but I can think of a reward for winning that you’ll like.”

“If it doesn’t involve your mouth around my dick, then I don’t want it.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

I cock a brow. “Oh, really?”

Before we can continue, Crash pushes his way to my side. “Time to get ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

I pull Brandy’s face to mine, kissing her passionately, then press my forehead to hers. “Wish me luck.”

She gives me another quick kiss. “You don’t need luck, Marcus. You’ve got this.”

Her faith in me swells my chest and warms my heart.

Crash slaps my bicep. “Come on.”

I drop my hands from her face and follow my sponsor through the crowd. Brandy still stands where I left her, looking slightly dazed, but I hear her breathless voice.

“You’ve got this, baby. You’ve got this.”

***

I stand in my black shorts, while Crash slides my grappling gloves on.

“All right, I spoke to the refs. The fight is standard rules. Five-minute rounds with a minute rest between each one. Three rounds and ten points per round.”

“Got it.”

“You ready, prospect?”

“Yep.”

We make our way to the cage. The brothers pat me on the back as I pass, cheering me on. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to feeling like I have a family supporting me, the closest I’ve ever come to feeling like a brother.

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