I grinned, thinking this woman must be feeling the same intense attraction, but my smile dropped immediately when she pulled a backpack around and unclipped a set of keys. That’s when I put all of the pieces together. I’d been so focused on her assets, that I hadn’t noticed the packaging…a school uniform. She smiled at me, and my chest tightened. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This couldn’t be her. No way was this sexy as hell woman the teenage daughter of the sheriff who I’d been dispatched to lecture.
But as she drew closer, not only did I recognize the Prius keys in her hand but Bartley was also stitched on the letterman jacket she had draped over one arm.
Rage exploded in my gut as I wondered who the guy was that had convinced her to put her name on his jacket, effectively branding her. It didn’t really matter. He no longer had a claim to Alyssa. Although I’d need to find out his identity to let him know he shouldn’t speak to her ever again.
I gave my head a tiny shake, realizing what my thoughts implied.
Yeah, I was fucking screwed. I knew I’d never let another man watch over her, never let another man touch her, and I’d never let her go.
Alyssa Bartley didn’t know it yet, but she was mine.
2
Alyssa
Even without the distinctive leather vest, I would’ve guessed the guy on the motorcycle in the spot next to mine was part of the Silver Saints MC. He was too old to be one of my peers and too rough to be a teacher. He also wasn’t the kind of man a girl would ever forget. Not with how big and brawny he was and with muscles on top of his muscles. Or the man bun he’d pulled his curly light brown hair into. The beard and tattoos. Then there were his bright blue eyes that reminded me of the gorgeous water I’d seen when my dad had taken me on a beach vacation to Siesta Beach, Florida, last year.
If he’d been on campus before, I would’ve noticed him. And if I hadn’t seen him myself, I would’ve heard about him because every female with a pulse would’ve been talking about him. Memorable wasn’t a strong enough word for this guy. He was hot as sin, and the beast of a bike he rode only reinforced his bad-boy image. Only it wasn’t just a persona—as a member of a motorcycle club, many people would consider him to be bad, period.
And he definitely wasn’t a boy. He was all man. The impact of him was enough to wake my dormant libido and send skitters of feminine awareness coursing through my body. The masculine interest in his gaze sent my senses into overdrive, but I hadn’t missed how he’d reacted when I’d pulled my keys off my backpack.
A member of the Silver Saints waiting next to my car after I’d emailed them about another major threat to our town couldn’t be a coincidence. Not when Leon’s scumbag of a brother had died not too long after I’d sent them my first email. I’d definitely landed myself on their radar.
He had to be waiting for me, but something about me seemed to have surprised him—and not in a good way, judging by how his sexy smile disappeared.
“Alyssa Bartley?”
His deep rumble sent a sensual shiver up my spine, and my voice was squeaky when I replied, “Yeah, that’s me.”
His gaze skimmed down my body, and he shook his head. “Please tell me you have some fucking pants or at least a pair of shorts in your backpack or car.”
My nose scrunched up as I tried to figure out why he cared what I was wearing. “I probably have a pair of soccer shorts in my trunk.”
“Put ’em on under your skirt.” When I just stared at him blankly, he added, “No way in hell I’m going to let you ride on the back of my bike in what you’re wearing. Your skirt is too damn short. You’d probably leave a trail of accidents in our wake as guys forget to pay attention to the road because they’re too busy trying to look up your fucking skirt.”
I wondered if the length of my skirt was what had wiped the smile from his face earlier. And if so…could it possibly be because he was jealous of other men looking at me? The possibility gave me a little thrill, but that wasn’t what I asked. “You’re taking me for a ride on your bike?”
“We have to talk.” He scanned the lot, which was mostly empty by now. “And it’s better if our conversation happens somewhere private.”
“About the emails I sent to—”
My question broke off when he closed the distance between us and growled, “You’ve already gotten your ass into enough trouble, little girl. The last thing you need is to announce to the entire fucking world how you’ve stuck your cute nose into serious business.”