Page 4 of Gator

I huff at him, having no problem calling him out on his bull. “Your car broke down, too, and you walked to the only thing with lights so bright, you saw it from a few miles away?”

I smile, daring him to lie to me. But my smile slips off my face as I watch him shake his head at his beer before looking at me. It’s the look my dad gives me when I disappoint him because he expects more from me about sports. It’s not my fault that no matter how much he explains them to me, I’m not going to get it.

And why does the thought of disappointing a person who I only know asProspectmake me anxious? It’s like he knows I’m lying. Which I’m not, but I’m not telling the entire truth. Like why the hell I’m all the way out here. I don’t want to tell him. Hell, I didn’t want to call Kitten and tell her. But no one is towing tonight, or at least not all the way out here in middle-of-nowhere Kansas. This place is off the beaten path for a reason.

He doesn’t say anything, and eventually the moment gets so intense that I crack. Being under the spell of this man is dangerous. I get why the Hounds want him as part of the club. He has a way of making people want to spill their guts. Or at least break and start talking.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime or something?” I bristle under the pressure of that look and toss the rest of my cocktail back, nodding to the bartender for another as I watch Prospect just shake his head at my antics. It’s obvious I’m looking for fight and wanting him to say something that makes me prove something. But why? It makes no sense other than I had a crap night and want others to have a crap night too.

And I don’t want to be pitied. ’Cause that’s what’s going to happen if I tell him the whole of the night. I know how pathetic it was, and I really don’t want him to see that. I might not want to get close to him to keep my stress and anxiety levels down, but I also don’t want him to see me as anything other than what he said that first time I met him.

I still get chills when I remember what he said. And boy, do I remember. I freaking dream about those words. Him calling me beautiful, sexy. Talking as if every guy who ever turned me down or walked away was the idiot who was missing out on the best thing ever. I don’t know if I believe he meant all that he said or if it’s just a typical line he uses on girls, but damn if it didn’t make me feel special. That’s what he does. He walks into the room, and he finds me. I always notice him, and I always notice him watching me. I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t trust me. The way he stares has me thinking he sees me as something he wants. The problem I have is that I don’t know how long he wants me.

And I’m not going to put myself out there to find out. I refuse.

Chicken.

I would tell my inner goddess to bite me, but talking out loud to myself won’t help me tonight.

“Sorry.” I really mean it this time when I say it before I look over and lock eyes with him. I know I should say more, but I can’t. I can’t show weakness and explain why I’m acting like this. But I also can’t just expect him to forgive me. He needs more than a one-word apology, and I need to make sure he knows what I need as well. And it isn’t a knight in shining armor. “Might not seem like it, especially with how my night is going, but I can take care of myself. I don’t need someone to come play hero or something. Just like you don’t need someone taking out a terrible night on you just for showing up at the same random place as them.”

But I know he isn’t here randomly. Either Jules sent him because he was closer than she was or maybe she couldn’t get away immediately.

“Never said you couldn’t.”

“Then why are you here? Jules call you or something? She can’t give me a lift, and you drew the short straw?”

“Nothing short when it comes to picking you up.” He says it so quick that I could have missed it if I wasn’t focused on him.

I might not be a prude, but I’m doing all I can not to stare at everything going on around me. Sex is literally in the air, making it hard to find fresh air that isn’t tainted with lust. But I’m doing my damnedest not to stare and draw more attention to myself other than what I already have going on. Between Prospect and me, we have more clothes on than half the patrons in here. We’re sticking out like crazy, but despite the glances we’re getting, no one’s bothering us. And… I have to admit, I’m curious as hell about being in here. I have zero nerve to do anything with anyone, and I’m even a bit shy to just watch, but hearing it? Having it surround me? It’s a strange feeling of empowerment in a way. Like I’m owning my sexuality, even if I’m not doing anything remotely sexy right now. But since I’m so focused on not gawking, my attention is solely on the prospect.

Liar, liar.

I grumble at my inner goddess and at least admit that she’s a bit right. I would probably only be focused on him anyway, no matter the setting.

“Maybe I was in the neighborhood.”

A laugh bursts out of me, and a bit of my drink tumbles over my lips and onto the bar top. I wipe my chin as I look at him, seeing him smirk.

“Or maybe”—he takes a napkin and slowly wipes my lips, causing my breath to stall—“I don’t like the idea of someone trying to take advantage of you.”

I get lost in the way he looks at me. Nothing creepy about it. The way he sees me, only me, it’s addictive. An addiction I can’t afford to keep. But I can’t turn away. I don’t want him to stop. For a second, I just want to sit here and let the hot biker guy who’s probably close to seven years my junior look at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.

This isn’t the first time he’s looked at me like this. It’s only the first time I’ve let myself let it happen and almost enjoy it. I’m the sidekick, not the main attraction, even if people like to treat me like one at the circus. But this guy, thiskid, makes me feel like I’m living on top of the world. One look. That’s all it takes. One look from him, and I’m so close to throwing all my willpower aside and saying fuck it. To just grabbing his vest and dragging his too-perfect lips to mine and seeing if he can really handle a plus-size girl like me.

I really don’t know what it is about this guy, but he makes every part of me desire him—except my brain, when it’s working. That thing is on point and is trying to keep the rest of me from getting hurt. And this sex god? He’s got pain written all over him.

I can’t do it. I can’t. I refuse to add stress to my life. I like the simple life I lead. A career I love and a small group of friends I adore. Sure, I go home to an empty place that’s closer to my parents’ home than most people my age would prefer. And yeah, only going to school and dance practice might seem like a boring life that’s in serious need of some fun, but it’smylife. I grew up in torment and have none of that now, so it’s a perfect life for me.

Keep lying to yourself, sweetie. No one believes you.

Oh shut up.

Chapter 3—Gator

The bartender doesn’t even seem that put out at wiping up spit-out liquor on his bar. Doubt this is the first time something’s been spit on the bar top from the reputation of this place.

I look at Bailey and just watch her try to pat up the mess with the single drink napkin she took from me after I wiped her mouth. She’s beautiful. I’ve thought that since the moment I saw her. Not that she likes it when I tell her so. Did that once, and I think she got madder at me, if that’s even possible. Which just gets me hot.

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