Hunte (6 page)

“So are you.” And she felt damn good in my arms. I combed my fingers through her tumbling locks, easing out the snarls caused by our sex-fest.

She rubbed her palm against my chest, teasing my nipples, playing with the hair. “You’re hot.”

“So are you.”

She slipped her leg over my thigh and caressed the sole of her foot up and down my calf. The action brought the heat of her pussy against my newly interested cock.

“Stay tonight?” I struck while the iron was hot.

“Can’t. Early start tomorrow. In fact, I should probably get going.” She uncoiled from me and slid from bed.

As she searched for her clothes, I had the pleasure of watching her. Her delicate-looking body had mega-curves that overflowed my hands. The soft brown waves of her hair draped across her shoulders and tits. Every once in a while, a nipple peaked out.

“Oh yeah? The Monday grind?” I moved into her warm spot and got another dose of her perfume.

“
Mm hmm
.” She gave no further comment, firmly shutting off that line of conversation.

Maybe she didn’t want to get any more personally involved than I did. Maybe that was a good idea to hold onto.

I walked her out with her hand held in mine. At her Ducati—fire engine red unlike her lipstick, which was long gone by now—she tugged on a pair of riding gloves. Our breath formed little puffs of white clouds in the chilly November night.

Pinning her to me with an arm around her waist, I melted our lips together. I forgot all about the cold air with her warm mouth cushioning mine, her tongue darting inside. The goodnight kiss went on and on, heating me from the inside out.

She broke the kiss. “I need to go.”

“Yeah.” I swooped in, sucking her bottom lip between mine.

She whimpered before twisting her fingers in my hair, gripping me harder.

I pulled back with a groan. “You really have to leave?”

“
Uh huh
.” She nibbled on my neck, rasping her tongue on the dark stubble.

“Because I can wake you up for work.” My palms settled on her ass.

“
Uh unh
.” She plucked at my lips.

“So who’s gonna stop first?” I dove back inside her mouth, my tongue lunging inside.

“You are, because you’re a gentle
MAN
!” JB squealed the last part as my fingers maneuvered down the front of her jeans.

Pushing against her pussy, I gritted out, “Says who?”

“
Ohhh.
”

I circled my fingers against the top seam, aiming for her clit. “One more for the road, JB?”

She broke free with a low laugh, wobbling on her legs. “You play dirty.”

“You should know that by now.”

“I’m going.”

“Wanna make sure your legs can hold you up first?”

She flipped me two stiff middle fingers then straddled her bike. Throttling it to life, she buckled the helmet beneath her chin.

“Fucked you once. Fucked you twice. And can’t wait for a third shot.” I grinned, hooking my thumbs in my belt loops.

In reply, she revved up, making her rear tire spin out.

“Drive carefully, sweetheart,” I shouted above the roar.

“Always.”

Chapter Four

JB HAD LEFT WITH no promises issued from her and none forthcoming from me. That was usually how I liked my women—compartmentalized into neat little interludes never to be repeated, names never to be remembered.

JB wasn’t fitting into any box, and her sexy body, her sassy mouth, her dirty talk were engraved on my brain. Too bad her phone number wasn’t engraved there, too. I’d neglected to get her digits Sunday night, but I could remedy that easily enough through back channels or by calling in a favor. I figured I’d give her enough time to miss me first. Keeping her at arm’s length unless we were in bed seemed like the best strategy to avoid a messy entanglement.

Who was I kidding? I’d never follow through with that. She was on my mind first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

I’d give it ’til the weekend. Then I’d search her out if she didn’t show at Retribution Friday night. Monday and Tuesday passed quickly enough. I helped Brodie in the garage at Chrome and Steele. I talked to Jack Monday night and picked him up after school for a few hours Tuesday. I was still on probation with the police department—Chief Tilden wanted to make an example of me.

I could’ve made a few calls of my own and taken on other work, but I was going shiny-side up. I’d vowed to make a clean break from dark undercover. I wasn’t going back in, not even for Walker. He hadn’t contacted me again, but I listened for the burn phone to ring like a fucking junkie, wanting that hit yet hating what it made me do. Convincing myself I didn’t need the high to make life worthwhile.

Wednesday morning I drove over to Jack’s school, Cooper Hall Elementary. I didn’t wear a suit because I only did that when I had to meet top brass for a debriefing, aka ball-kicking. Neither did I wear my Retribution cut, leather pants, or mirrored aviators. Meet the teacher meant clean jeans, scuff-free boots, and fingers scrubbed of grease stains, as best I could.

On my way in, I inspected the school’s security system. It was updated, pretty advanced. I approved. Outside, cameras sat on every corner and every few feet down the length of the building. The playground was fenced off and locked down. At the front doors, I waited to be buzzed into the office. Inside, the reception was surrounded by bullet-proof plexi, and I underwent the whole identity check rigmarole. I nearly handed over my official unofficial credentials from MPPD but thought better of it. The name on my ID was Hunter Sexton, and that was not the last name on Jack’s birth certificate. I fished out my real license and slid it into the drop box.

At least they could scan that one without immediately alerting my former employers or any hit men who might have a price on my head.

I approved of the exacting protocol. Although this shit was scary considering when I was a kid, they barely performed background checks on teachers. Whatever, I was no worse for wear. But to keep Jack safe? I said do what you gotta do.

School-issued ID in place, I trekked the corridors until I found the right pod for Jack’s classroom. The door was open, colorful turkey nametags for all the kids tacked to it. I had to laugh at Jack’s. He’d put the feathers on the turkey’s head instead of on the rump. It looked like a Native American headdress.

I rapped my knuckles on door. “Hey. I’m here about Jack Angelo.”

“Mr. Angelo. Please come in and find Jack’s desk.”

Forget about searching for the tot-sized desk. My cock perked to awareness in my pants as I looked at Jack’s teacher.
Jesus Christ.
What was wrong with me? First with the instant attraction to JB and now for Hot Teach? Twice in as many fucking weeks?

It wasn’t my fault. I called foul play. With her back turned and her hair pinned up, she bent over her desk. The tight
secretary
skirt she wore accentuated a droolworthy ass, and the skirt’s small slit in the back showed amazing legs that ended in high heels.

Damn, back in the day my teachers had looked like old crones.

“So glad you could come in. I like to meet all the parents during the first half of the year.”

I looked for Jack’s desk and was halfway there when Miss Barnes turned around.

“Oh!” she gasped.

“Fuck.” I sank onto the nearest desk, nearly overturning it.

Miss Barnes—my kid’s kindergarten teacher—was none other than JB.

Not on a bike. Not in leathers. But in a thigh-skimming skirt, soft blue blouse, and with glasses perched on her freckled nose.

How is she even hotter like this?

“You’re Hunter.
Jack’s dad, Hunter
?” She paced back and forth, those sweet heels punctuating her rising irritation. She flicked off her glasses and sent them skidding across her desk. “You said you were Hunter Sexton. Jack’s records say Hunter Angelo.”

I was still in shock over seeing JB in an entirely ordinary setting, while she still managed to look nothing less than extraordinary.

“Well?” She stomped toward me.

I rose to my feet as she halted in front of me. “
Uhhh
.” I pulled my fingers along my jaw. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m not asking for your Facebook status.”

My eyebrows lifted.
“I’m not on Facebook.”

She huffed in annoyance and marched back to the front of the room. “Answer the question.” She used a stern teacher voice on me. I dug it.

“I’m exactly who you think I am. The man you met, the one you slept with—”

Dropping her voice, she hissed, “The man I
fucked
, you mean. Hunter Sexton, Hunter Angelo . . . which one is it?”

“Officially on the job at Mt. Pleasant PD, Hunter Sexton. As Jack’s dad, Hunter Angelo.”

“
Urg
! You’re infuriating.” Her breasts swelled in the blue blouse with her ragged breaths.

Now probably was not the time mention I thought her Miss Barnes look was ridiculously sexy.

“Angelo. That’s my real last name, the one on the birth certificate, the one that keeps my other aliases, and potential enemies, worlds away from my family. I can’t say much more than that. And you should never mention it either—the lives of people I love would be endangered if you did.” I walked down the narrow aisle between the desks toward her. I felt like a frigging giant in this brightly colored classroom, towering above the miniature desks and chairs.

JB slid back to sit on the edge of her desk. “Oh really. That’s not just a line to get women off your back?”

“JB, Miss Barnes . . . whatever—”

“It’s Jessica.”

“Jessica.” Her name rolled off my tongue like a kiss.
Jessica Barnes.

My gaze traveled from her high heels up her stockinged legs to the hem of the skirt that had shifted higher when she sat down. Up her slim waist and over her breasts to her lips. I stopped there for a moment. I still hadn’t gotten my blowjob.

When I met her distinct and dark eyes, uncontrollable instant attraction snapped between us.

Breaking eye contact, I raked my hands through my hair. “Right. Here’s the thing. I’ve had a lot of different identities because of my job. Know this: I am Retribution. I am a dad. I’ve been working for Mt. Pleasant PD. I have a long history in law enforcement. Most of it ain’t pretty. And no one wants to dig deeper.”

“So I’m to take you at face value,” she stated.

“Yeah.”

“And trust you?”

“Yes.”

“Angelo,” she hummed my last name. “Italian. That explains your looks.” She slipped to her feet and walked around me in a slow ring.

I thought she’d touch me. My skin tingled as if she did. Her fingers didn’t connect with my body, just her eyes, watching me hungrily.

“The black hair, your golden brown eyes, bronzed skin,” she murmured.

The hot flash of our attraction flared brighter. JB faced me, her cheeks tinged pink, highlighting the tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose. It was my turn to circle her. I strolled around her, admiring this new view of a career woman. My fingers skimmed down the center of her back, rasping against the silk of her shirt along the line where her butterfly tats marked her skin.

Standing behind her, I unpinned her hair. The wavy tresses fell into my hands. “What about you, JB? Harley Momma. Tank Girl.” I nipped her earlobe. “Kindergarten Teacher.”

“Riding is my escape. My time away from million-hour work weeks.” She spun in my arms. “I love the kids, love what I do, but I need time to be me too.”

“
Mm
.” I agreed.

Her eyes were hooded. Her ripe lips parted. The thin blouse did nothing to hide her pronounced nipples. Her desk looked sturdy enough for a fuck. I cupped her breasts in my palms, angling my head for a kiss when she pushed me away.

Adjusting her hair, her shirt, her skirt, she hissed, “This is a professional meeting, Mr. Angelo.”

Her harsh rebuff splashed across me cold as water. She was absolutely right, and I had
no
rights coming onto her in this setting or probably any other one.

“Hands off the teach. I got it.” I backed away until I found Jack’s diminutive desk.

Folding my body near in half, I sat down in his bright yellow chair. My knees knocked together. My thighs spilled over the seat. It was like sitting in a dollhouse.

Front and center on Jack’s desk was a card addressed
To my Daddy
. On the cover was a blobby coloring of me—the giant of course—and him sporting the same wild black hair with a big red clown smile.

I picked up the card and opened it:

Besd things bout my famlee.

I read the paragraph inside, Jack’s misspelled words scrawled in huge looping letters, through a blur of sudden tears I blinked away. He named his favorite stuffed animals first. Then he wrote about how he liked making pancakes with Momma. The final sentence was about me, how I kept him safe, checking under the bed and in the closet at night before I tucked him in.

“He’s a good kid.” I cleared my throat and put the card in my pocket.

“Yes, he is.” JB smiled. “He’s wonderful to have in class. Helpful, bright, he does get distracted and
socializes
a bit too much sometimes, but they all do.”

I laughed. “Socializes? That a polite way to say he’s a motor mouth?”

Her sparkly laughter joined mine.

Jesus.
I could see why Jack loved her. Funny and sweet and smart. And damn, she was so beautiful.

Feeling the need to explain the situation, I said, “We’re not together, his mom and me. Not married. We were never like that. I mean we love each other, more like friends now. Weren’t ever
in
love . . .”

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Hunter.”

“Considering what we got up to the other night, I think I do.” I scowled.

“And I think we should focus on Jack.”

Sighing, I sprawled in my chair, as much as I could anyway. “He loves your class. Can’t stop talking about you.” I knew the feeling. “He’s fitting in okay, isn’t he?”