But her brain-which had obviously deserted her throughout this interaction-reasserted itself now. There was nothing in the stupid tattoo that actually named the Brothers of Goliath. And yet she suspected it wouldn't take Chaser long to figure out what the club's preferred insignia was, a gorilla head plastered across the small of her back and covered with thorns and hearts like the good little biker bitch she'd imagined herself at eighteen.
Ten years later, she knew better-and she knew she had to distract the Devil's Keepers enforcer who was standing much too close to her with one of his mouthwateringly hard hands on her body, or this parent-teacher conference, which was already out of control, would get truly insane. And potentially get her fired, too.
Or arrested.
"You gonna answer the question?" Chaser asked, silk and threat and still too close to her lips. His big hand was hard and hot through the material of her pencil skirt, like he was laying down some new ink on her skin. "Or am I gonna strip you down and see for myself?"
And he might have been her personal heroin but he was right there, pinning her to the wall and unlikely to back off. She could redirect his focus. Men like him were all about sex, no matter what else was going on. She could do this, she told herself. She could do what she had to and then walk away, no problem, once he was good and distracted and she was protected from her own stupidity in underestimating him.
She could handle this.
Lara didn't let herself think about it any further, because she didn't want to talk herself out of it, and she wanted to talk about her biker club history even less.
She surged up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.
Chaser didn't even pause. He hauled her up against him with that hand on her back. His other hand left the wall and slid over her jaw to hold her mouth to his. And he took her over as he backed her even farther into the wall, opening his mouth against hers and catapulting them straight into something wet and hot and much, much wilder than anything she could have planned. Or imagined. Or wanted.
But she was built for this. For him. That was the trouble.
Everything inside of Lara slid hard into the white heat that poured through her, making her shake and making her meet him as he explored her mouth, dirty and a little rough, and like he'd had no doubt since he'd walked into the room that they'd end up exactly like this.
He ate at her mouth, rocking her against the wall, trapping her with his big body. The hand on her jaw dropped to find her breasts through the thin shell she wore, rubbing over each curve until he found her nipple, then teasing it into a taut ache. His other hand left the small of her back, but she lost track of what he was doing when he angled his head and took that kiss to a whole new blistering-hot place.
He was her doom in the considerably tempting flesh and goddamn him, he tasted good. Heaven and hell. Smoke and whiskey. Lara was out of her mind, and she didn't care. She could feel the leather of his cut beneath her hands, and it should have horrified her, but instead it made that blaze between her legs brighter. More intense.
And he kissed her like he'd been doing it forever. Like he knew exactly how to push her buttons and how fast he could get her clinging to him and panting and this close to straight-up begging him for more. Much, much more.
Then she felt him tugging at her skirt, and she tore her mouth from his as he shoved the narrow pencil skirt up over her hips, the stretchy material bunching around her waist.
She opened her mouth to do something, say something, but he was already there. And she was already lost. His broad, tough fingers slid beneath the lacy panties she wore and he didn't wait. He grunted when he encountered how slick and hot she was. His dark eyes blazed. Then he was thrusting inside her, fingering her right there in the front of her classroom, his thumb dragging against her clit with every sure, deep stroke.
"Holy shit," she muttered, and she couldn't help herself. Her hips rose to meet him. Greed and longing tore through her body and centered in her pussy, and she was helpless. She couldn't do anything but grab onto his shoulders as best she could and ride his hand toward the storm bearing down on her, thunderbolts and madness and the whole great lie of her life laid bare, whether she wanted it or not.
He laughed. Dark and dangerous, her addiction in dangerously beautiful male form-and he laughed.
Lara thought heroin would be better. Safer.
But then she exploded all around him, and she knew. He was much more dangerous than any drug could have been. He was worse than any silly addiction. He was the end of her.
And he wasn't done.
She was still shaking when he pulled his hand out of her panties. The earth seemed to get a little unsteady beneath her feet, but she realized it was Chaser. He spun her around so she was bent over her desk and he was hard behind her. She felt his hands on her hips as he kicked her legs apart, then stepped between them.