Mr. Sweeney, one of the deans, came through the cafeteria, wanting to know what happened, and I stepped in and explained that Madoc had fallen over a chair. Stupid lie, I know, but teachers don’t have a lot of power. If one kid claims something and others back it up, it must be true. I didn’t want Tate in trouble.
Not from anyone else but me.
Before the first afternoon class started, I met Madoc at his locker, and grabbing him by his arm, I hauled him around the corner into an empty classroom.
“Whoa!” he howled, probably surprised by my sudden appearance. “Take it easy!”
As soon as we were away from prying eyes, I twisted around and planted my fist in his gut. The skin on my knuckles stretched, but Madoc caved to the punch, and I knew his pain would be a hell of a lot worse.
Coughing and hunching over, he fell back against the wall as I hovered over him. The strange part was, I wasn’t nervous or even angry. I was a little pissed, but otherwise, I was in complete command of my actions and emotions.
He knew why he got hit, and now he knew I wasn’t bluffing about not touching Tate.
“You heard me this time, right?” I asked.
And he nodded, pinching his eyebrows together and looking nauseous as he held his stomach.
Making my way to my next class, I picked my phone out of my pocket and texted my boss that I wouldn’t be at work this afternoon. He was a friend and let me off the hook on the rare occasion I needed a surprise day off.
The job was noise and distraction. Now I had Tate, and she was keeping my head pretty occupied lately.
I passed the rest of the afternoon in a euphoric hunger for what was to come.
Madoc’s ego was severely bruised from getting hit twice in one day. We took off after school so he could nurse his wounds with a late lunch, or early dinner, at Sonic. Personally I think the chicks on roller skates cheered him up more than the food.
At about four-thirty, he drove home, and I headed back to school. Tate had cross-country practice this afternoon. I’d checked with Jess Cullen, the captain, earlier today, and Tate was supposed to be trying out for her place back on the cross-country team.
Walking up to the girl’s locker room door, I stood outside and waited. Slipping my hands into my pockets and leaning my head back against the wall, I enjoyed the calm before the storm.
God, I’d missed this.
My father crossed my mind briefly, but he almost seemed unimportant now. Like, why the hell had I given him so much of my attention in the first place?
When a girl walked out, hair wet and carrying a gym bag, I knew it was time. The ladies might still be cleaning up, but they should be done with their showers at least.
Not that they had anything I hadn’t seen before, some of them close up, but there was a fine line between a prank and getting myself arrested.
Walking through the door, I turned left and rounded the corner. There were several rows, just like the men’s locker room, so I stalked down the aisle, peering in every line of lockers and scanning for the sunshine blonde.
I heard hair driers going and talking coming from the back, so there weren’t too many girls left getting dressed.
But there were definitely some gasps and quick movements to cover themselves.
One girl jerked her shirt up to cover her bra but then lowered it again when she registered who I was. Her lips twisted up as she scanned me up and down. I did a double take, since she looked like she knew me. Like knew me knew me, but I couldn’t remember at the moment. The past year had been a jumble, and I’d rarely gone back for seconds with anyone. I could’ve tapped that. She was hot. I probably would have, but I wouldn’t be able to say if it was a month or a year ago.
Coming up on the next aisle, I halted, my stomach flip-flopping.
Tate was at her locker, naked except for a towel.
For a second, I thought I couldn’t have planned the timing better. And then I remembered that it couldn’t have been worse timing. My dick was like a goddamn compass pointing straight to her.
Hardening my eyes and narrowing my brow, I spoke up, ready to put her in her fucking place.
“Get out. Tatum stays,” I ordered the room.
Everyone squealed or sucked in a quick breath, and Tate’s head snapped up, eyes wide. She clutched her towel like I had the power to rip it off of her with my mind.
If only….
Everyone scurried away, and I was grateful that they cleared out without drama. Maybe they went outside or a few rows over to give us some privacy, but all I cared about was that they were gone, and Tate didn’t have a lifeline.
She was isolated.
“Are you kidding me?” she yelled, her face twisted up in beautiful anger as I approached her slowly.
“Tatum?” My body raged with heat shooting down my arms and legs. “I wanted to make sure I had your attention. Do I have it?”
She licked her lips, breathing through her teeth. Even her mouth, tensed up in frustration, looked full of fight.
“Say what you have to say. I’m naked here, and I’m about to scream. This is going too far, even for you!”
Never too far. There was no limit to how high I could fly from feeding off of her.
She’d stopped retreating, and I briefly wondered why. But instead of stopping myself, I couldn’t help but get a little closer.
We stood there a moment, neither one of us willing to back off, and the heat rolled off of her every time her chest rose and fell.
And then I saw it.
Her eyelids fluttered slightly, her breath caught, and she wouldn’t look at me. Not out of fear but out of embarrassment. She was ashamed of something.
Oh, Jesus.
That flash of want on her face. That’s what it was.
And fuck it, I wanted that moment, too.