So, I told him so.
His soft chuckle gave me goose bumps. “Not gonna lie, babe, I’ll take any opportunity I can get to learn more of you so I can get closer.”
“King,” I protested quietly, still gazing, unseeing, at my papers.
“Had to give Kelsey Hopkins twenty bucks to spill how you take your fuckin’ coffee. Worth it to see the way you savored every fuckin’ sip. Made me think of how you’d savor me, I ever get in there with you.”
Goddamn, why did he have to be so sweet and sexy all at the same time?
I finally looked up at him, seeing him leaning forward in his chair, forearms on knees, hand resting between his thighs, head tilted down but eyes tipped up so he could look at me from under his golden brows, his eyes blue and pure as a tundra. My breath left me in a soft gasp at the sight of all that beauty in one man.
“There they are. Missed those whiskey eyes of yours,” he said, quietly.
We were both aware of the possibility of being walked in on. It was late, just after five o’clock, but there were still students going home from music and sports practices, teachers loitering over unfinished marking. It lent my classroom an intimacy that I’d never experienced before, our secret attraction making even the rows of metal and wood desks, the textbooks lining the shelves along the back wall and my standard issue yellow wood desk romantic and cozy.
“You can’t say things like that to me, King,” I said, completely without conviction because I was a bad woman in a good girl casing.
“Not gonna stop, Cressida,” he retorted.
I sucked in a breath and held it as he unfolded that long body and ambled over to the classroom door. He caught my eyes as he slowly turned the lock, pulled the thin paper curtain over the little window in the door so no one would see in, and turned off the artificial lights so only the pastel hues of the setting sun lit the room.
My quick breath and the loud tick of the clock over the whiteboard behind me were the only soundtrack to my seduction as he strolled over to my desk and leaned down over it. My eyes skirted over the corded tendons in his forearms, the way the blue of his rolled up sleeves made his arm hair look like pure gold, his skin another shade of the same color.
“You look at me like I’m a King. Can’t even hide it,” he said and his voice was filled with awe, as if me thinking he was anything beautiful and good was inconceivable to him.
I frowned. “You’re arrogance is clouding your judgment. I look at you like the capable and intelligent student you are.”
He made a face, his lips twisting as if to bottle up a secret insecurity that wanted to spring forth.
“Do you doubt you’re smart?” I asked without thinking first, shocked at the possibility.
King shrugged and leaned back to perch his butt (cute, high and tight, I knew, even though I’d tried not to notice) on the edge of my desk. “Gotta be smart to get into this place. Worked my ass off to get the marks, take the exams. Even had to get special dispensation to join the IB program late.”
“So, smart,” I confirmed.
“Sure.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “False modesty doesn’t look good on you.”
Finally, he grinned. “Not false, babe. Been smart my whole life, read a book a day since I could read at six years old. Got a head for numbers too and I’ve always been good with tech.”
I’d heard enough through his teachers to know the truth of what he was understating. “You’re a bit of a biker genius, eh?”
He blinked at me then laughed his musical laugh. I lived for the way his throat moved while he did it.
“Whatever. Truth is, I know I’m smart, yeah, but if everyone I’ve ever met doesn’t think so just ‘cause of who my dad is and what I look like, does that still make me smart? Without the opportunity to use that intelligence?”
It was a really good question. One I didn’t have an answer to.
“That’s why you worked so hard to get into EBA,” I deduced, amazed by his tenacity.
“Wanted options,” was his answer.
“You,” I bit my lip, desperately wanting to know the answer but aware that it would give away my hand, a hand full of hearts. “You aren’t sure if you want to join the club? Or are you already a member? I’m not really sure how it works.”
He cocked his head at me. “You really wanna know?”
I nodded.
“You patch in to the club after spending time as a ‘hangaround’ then more seriously, as a prospect to prove your worth, could be a month, could be three years, depends on how long it takes to show the rest of the brothers your spirit and your loyalty. Once you’re in, you don’t get out, yeah? So prospecting is important. Don’t want a brother who doesn’t want to be there or can’t fit in. The Fallen is a family at the end of the day. It just so happens that it’s literally my family.”