Page 13 of Gator
“The usual. Budget cuts are being talked about again. Same tactic they use every summer to get us all in line before the school year begins. They still don’t want to hire two more teachers, so they’re trying to leverage us into taking on double capacity and also doubling the duties around school.” I shrug it off.
Talking about work usually puts me in a bad mood—well, the politics side of it all, anyway. I might not be in the government, but I swear there’s politics in every single aspect of every job out there. It’s freaking high school for adults—get people to like you so you keep your job.
“What’s Troy’s take on it?”
My breath stalls in my chest, just like every time I hear that name. I should be used to it by now, but I don’t think I ever will be. Which is just sad. It was a long time ago, and I need to move past it. God knows he has.
“Nothing, as usual. Carolyn is his voice, and he just smiles beside her. He might have the job, but she’s the one leading the charge.”
“That sucks.” She has no idea. “At least you have something pretty to look at.”
She nods in the direction that I’ve been not-so-subtly staring at for the last twenty minutes. I can’t help it. He’s just too pretty to look away from. All those muscles, all that sweat. If it weren’t for the death glare he gives every single female who comes close to him, I’d swear he came here to get laid. No one looks that good without trying to get someone to go home with them.
I swear he can hear my thoughts, because he looks up, and our eyes lock.
I feel mine go wide as he just stares me down like a wolf eyeing his prey. There’s no smile on his face, no anger in his eyes. He’s just staring, like a freaking tractor beam, steady and true. I feel caught by him, and I can’t look away either. This stare is intense, at least for me. Never had a guy not break eye contact or show any other emotion than just… I don’t know. I can’t figure it out. But a small part of my brain is screaming at me. Telling me what my heart is trying not to hear. Begging me to listen for once to that small part yelling that it’s obvious on his face. That it could only be one thing as he stares me down.
Want.
Chapter 7—Gator
“At the rate you’re going, you’re going to die of blue balls,” Jordan quips as he walks by, pretending to clean the equipment.
I know it’s a ruse; he doesn’t clean around here. He boasts how he pays for that shit so he doesn’t have to do it. Plus, he still has twenty more minutes with Bailey. And who cares if I’m tracking that shit? The guy ain’t wrong. That girl has no clue how bad I have it for her. That, or she’s the queen of denial.
How bad is it that I find it hot as hell that she’s a challenge? A sure thing ain’t as sweet as it sounds. Not when you’ve got something sweet to eat, and that’s what makes Bailey trouble. I’ve got a sweet tooth, and ain’t no cure for it. I crave her, but I can’t have her. Not yet. I taunt myself, test my control. Make sure I see her as much as possible to let the ache grow. It burns through my veins and dances with my soul at night as I wrestle for sleep. It’s a torment that I don’t want to get rid of by having a substitute.
I know she’s going to be sweet. All that sour she puts off to keep people at bay, it’s a mirage for what I’m sure is her creamy center. When she’s not watching, maybe not even aware I’m there, I see the sweet she puts out. It’s to her friends when they need it. To just about any kid who crosses her path. No matter who they are, she’s sweet till they aren’t, and then she uses that beautiful mouth of hers to put them in their place. Others might only see the scowl on her face—most likely because she’s constantly reminded of her shit past in this town, since few have moved away, and they seem to be intertwined in her life more than she cares for—but she has a beautiful smile. I’ve seen it. It’s the memory I fall asleep to and the one I wake up thinking about as I stroke my cock in the shower.
Hell, half the reason I’m in the gym so much lately ain’t to catch glimpses of her. It’s a fucking bonus for sure, but it’s not the main reason. I need to bulk up and make sure I can go a few days with nothing but her. BecausewhenI get Bailey under me, I ain’t coming up for air for a very long time. Going to gorge myself on her, and I won’t be letting us up for air any time soon. Not even going to let her sleep, much less eat anything but my dick when I finally get her to accept where this is going between us. She’s stubborn as hell, but I’m Gator. I don’t fucking let shit go when I deem it to be my prey.
And that’s exactly what she is. Mine.
“Hey, Crocodile Dundee, keep the tongue in your mouth and off my floor.”
I whip my head around so fast at Jordan, he literally squeaks and hides behind Meekail, who I didn’t notice come over. Probably why I got the reptile comment, since I was so lost in the eyes of my girl.
I need to get my shit under control. Ain’t going to be any use to the Hounds if I can’t notice when people walk up on me. Bailey might soon be my everything, but I’ve still got to keep her alive, and the rest of us. We’ve got shit brewing that’s just going to get worse before it gets better. I can feel it in my bones. I had this feeling before, when I was in the Middle East. Not once was I wrong. Now probably ain’t the time to claim a woman, bringing her into danger. But I can’t stay away much longer. She needs to know who she belongs to, and it ain’t any dipshit who expects her to put out.
And before you ask, I ain’t like the others. I don’t expect it. I know it’ll happen. When her beautiful self is willing to share it with me. And that’s the difference. I’m on her timeline, not my own. Not that I’m gonna play fair when I can speed up the clock when she ain’t looking. I’m a Hound of the Reaper, not a fucking saint.
“I told you he wasn’t going to appreciate that. And I’m not going to cover your ass for it.” Meekail sidesteps away, giving me a clear view of my target. I might not have liked the name Gator when I first got called it, but now I see it as an honor, and I respect it. And every motherfucker should do the same. Especially these two. Not saying they owe me, but they sure as hell know better than to disrespect me.
“Want me to hold him down for you?” Meekail asks.
I try to keep the twitch of a smile off my lips as Jordan goes wide-eyed and swings his gaze to his man. Who just looks back at him without an ounce of bluff on him.
“Nah, I got it.” I’m up a second later, rolling with the grace I learned from years in the military, and round a solid hit to Jordan’s arm.
“Fuck, man.” He falls back onto a weight bench and rubs his arm.
“You’re lucky he went easy on you. I would have broken it if I were him,” Meekail says as he gives Jordan a pointed look before he checks his arm over.
“That was easy?” Jordan argues, wincing when Meekail has him stretch his arm out.
Now I smile. “Damn straight. Ain’t going to break my new investment’s arm, but ain’t going to let shit go. You got 45 percent of my power, and most of that was out of respect for the man nursing you right now. But”—I let my smile drop from my face—“you pull that shit again, or on any other Hound, I ain’t responsible for what happens. You get some pass for being connected with us, but we don’t take kindly to shit like that. This is your warning.”
Not trying to be a dick, but even though Jordan’s older than me, he’s still a fucking kid in knowing how to handle a biker. Club name disrespect can get a person killed. He can tease a bit about wanting to turn a few of the boys to bat for his team, but we know it’s harmless. He’s devoted to his man, and it’s all talk. But anything else is not cool.
