“Clarise,” Ryker nods, his face set in a neutral mask that gives nothing away.
“You look stressed,” she purrs, stopping close, but not too close. “How about I help you with that?”
Ryker arches his eyebrow, his voice turning cold. “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m not playing this game with you. We both know that I haven’t touched you in a while and there’s nothing between us. I won’t be having bullshit drama in the club.”
Clarise’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline for a moment before she recovers and her smile is back in place. Her gaze flicks toward me but then is back on Ryker.
“Whatever you say, Prez,” the words might be simple, but she manages to make them suggestive.
I’ve never wanted to bitch slap someone more in my life.
Clarise saunters away and when I look up at Ryker, expecting him to be watching her ass move across the room, his gray eyes are locked on me. “You good, Teach?” His words are low and there’s something underneath them, a plea I’m not ready to examine yet.
“Of course,” I sound a lot surer than I’m feeling.
I pay attention to every step as he leads me through the room and down a hallway. There are doors on both sides, but not as many as I would expect. “This level is all officer suites,” he explains like he can read my mind. “I’ll give you a full tour but first let’s get you to my room and go from there.”
When he holds another door open, I step inside and stop in my tracks. The space is a lot bigger than I was expecting. Sure, he said they were suites, but this isn’t quite what I was expecting. A person could hole up in here.
Tempting.
I was planning to lock myself in at my place for a few days to work on getting more of the bell disco-fied. My shoulders slump because now I don’t know when I’ll get back to it. Which is silly considering I could be in danger; like real danger.
The door clicks closed behind me and then Ryker’s large body is blocking out the rest of the room. “Hey,” his voice is soft and coaxing, “what’s wrong?”
“I had plans,” I blurt the words and his eyes go from gray and curious to stormy and filled with warning. “I was going to work on craft projects for my room. I have a new theme every year,”I’m babbling, but I can’t stop, “and the next school year is the American Revolution. I made a big paper mâché Liberty Bell and now I’m covering it in disco mirror strips. I plan to hang it in my classroom.”
Ryker blinks down at me, his words coming out slow, “You made a paper mâché Liberty Bell?” When I nod, he asks, “And now you’re making it into a Liberty Bell disco ball?”
“Yeah,” I say like it’s obvious. I know it’s not.
“Okay,” he says, a little bit of suspicion in his voice that I suppose is warranted, “we can do this a few ways. You can give me a list of what you need from your place and I can send a brother and a prospect to take care of it. I can go tomorrow.” He watches me weigh his words before offering, “Or if you can give me a day or two to get the lay of the land, we can take you over there safely.”
“Okay,” I gnaw on my lower lip and jump slightly when he reaches up and pulls it free. Again. When he touches me, it’s hard to stay focused. “Your room is nice,” I try to say something that might exist adjacent to gratitude. “It’s a lot cleaner than I thought it would be.”
My eyes widen when I realize what I’ve said, but Ryker doesn’t seem to take offense. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he asks, “What did you expect? Sticky floors? Neon beer signs on the walls or posters of half-naked women with stiff socks on the floor?”
The way he looks at me is filled with an unspoken challenge.
“Maybe not that bad, but you’re not far off,” I tell him honestly.
He snorts out a laugh. “Opal would kick our asses if we left our rooms that way. She got us all hampers when she took over running the clubhouse and put us on a schedule. We have to take our dirty clothes down to the laundry room on our days and then we have to put our clean clothes away when they’re delivered.”
“I have no doubt that she runs a tight ship,” I offer, one side of my mouth tipping up. “I bet, with you guys, there really isn’t another option or else there will be no keeping you in line,” my voice is teasing.
One side of his mouth tips up as he steps closer to me, eating up the little bit of distance between us. “You gonna keep me in line, too?”
My cheeks heat and my nipples pebble. Having him this close to me is doing something to my body I’ve never experienced before. It’s as if I’m attuned to him and I’m not sure how I feel about it. He’s so sexy, too sexy for me, honestly.
Is it strange that I want a hug from him? I just know his arms would feel so solid and strong around me.
“Do you,” I swallow hard and force the question past my lips, “do you need someone to keep you in line?”
“I have a feeling you’re the only one who really can, Teach,” his tone is flirtatious and I clench my thighs together as my clit throbs. A knock at the door has me jumping a little while he growls, “What?”
He doesn’t look away from me and the longer he’s this close to me, the more I want to plaster my body against his. And rub.
“It’s Whiskey,” comes from the other side of the door.
