Devil's Own (The Devil's Keepers #3)(16)

"You mean that I just banged a dickhead criminal biker asshole in my history classroom?" she asked in that same pissy, irritated teacher voice that he could feel all over his cock, like her tongue. "I think you'll find I understand it perfectly."

"Your shit just got complicated," he told her, keeping his voice serious. Pissed. "You're in Devil's Keepers territory with another club's colors on your back. Which means you should know better. You should definitely know that this cocky attitude and all the shit-talking won't fly."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her eyes were cool again, and on some level he admired her bold attempt to lie her way out of this. "I like gorillas. A lot of girls have tramp stamps. I can't think of anything that has less to do with you or your club than a tattoo I got when I was a little bit drunk. And all of eighteen years old."

Chaser shook his head. He moved his hand from her chin and ran both his thumbs beneath her eyes to clean off some of that black shit. He couldn't have said where the urge came from, especially when he usually drop-kicked pussy straight out the door when he was done. He wasn't a cuddler. He liked to get his dick wet and then get a good night's sleep, without any whining or hustling to ruin the glow of busting a good nut.

But Lara hadn't indicated that she knew what whining was, and she was looking at him like if she could, she'd get her hands on his piece and blow his fucking head off. Not exactly the usual groupie hustle. No hints for some help with her bills, or more protection than he wanted to give.

Everything about this woman was a problem. Obviously, Chaser thought it was hot as hell.

"You're cute when you lie to me, babe." He pulled his hands back slowly. So slowly, in fact, that it was more like, instead of letting go of her, he was memorizing her too-warm cheeks and the flush across them that made her eyes seem even bluer than they were. But that wasn't the kind of thing he did. He wasn't that guy. "Really, you are. But that's not gonna help you." 

Chaser wanted to fuck her again. Now. As hard and as desperately as if he hadn't just done it.

Which was pretty much the only thing that could have gotten him to let go of her. He didn't mind a repeat. But an instant replay when he was all … weird inside, suddenly? When every alarm he had inside was going off, telling him she wasn't just some easy lay?

He watched, narrow-eyed, as she moved away from him the instant he released her. Jumped away from him, in fact. And then she held herself a little too stiffly, almost as if she thought she might break apart if she didn't keep herself together. Her arms seemed jerky as she stepped to the desk and started tossing the papers-a little crushed from what had happened on top of them-into her bag. Then she swiped a tissue from the box on her desk, scowled at him over her shoulder like she had no fear of him whatsoever, and reached down into the wastebasket to grab the condom he'd thrown there.

"This isn't a biker clubhouse," she muttered in one of those loud-ass undertones she clearly wanted him to hear. "It's a high school. You can't litter condoms around."

"The next time I fuck you here I'll be sure to do it bareback. Problem solved." She balled the tissue up in her hand, then shoved it into the outside pocket of her bag. With, Chaser noticed, more than a little violence. Like she was as opposed to the idea of going another round with him as he was. Which, naturally, made him want to get inside her here and now. "You got something to say about that?"

Lara took her time turning back to face him, hauling the strap of her bag over her shoulder as she moved. Her face was expressionless again-her teacher face, he thought. Her armor, not that it would protect her. Not from him.

Still, he liked it better when she was cracked wide open and soft, making those greedy little noises into his skin.

"What do you want?" she asked with a certain matter-of-factness that made something unfamiliar crawl through him. It felt a little too much like need, so he ignored it. "I'm not going to stand around here playing games of threat and misdirection with you. My concerns about your daughter stand. I hope you don't think that a rash encounter that should never have happened somehow erases the fact that she's on a collision course with a pretty bleak future."

Chaser studied her a minute. "That what happened to you?"

He was pretty sure he watched the progression on her pretty face, from the urge to keep stonewalling him into a sort of simmering, furious acceptance that doing so wasn't smart. Then again, maybe he was just making shit up to explain away his fucking hard-on. And worse than that, the weird thing like longing in his gut that he refused to identify, much less indulge.