Page 9 of The Cheerleader is Off Limits

“Older than me? For sure.”

“I’m a high school biology teacher and the school’s football coach.”

Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open in shock. “Wait… you’re ateacher?Oh my God, does any girl in your class pay attention? If you were my teacher, I can safely say I’d never get anything done.”

I chuckle and maybe inwardly preen at her words. But I am overly aware of the girls’ consensus on the “hot biology teacher” or “daddy bio,” as they call me. They had a short-lived run with calling me “bio daddy,” but I think they realized that could be construed as talking about their actual fathers, so that ended very quickly.

I am very careful about how I interact with any of the girls at my school and make it a habit to never be alone with them because the last thing I want or need is for someone to read a situation differently than how I meant it. The crushes and flirting are obvious, but I am very firm with my boundaries, and for the most part, they all respect them.

“If they don’t, then they fail… so, that’s their choice.” I shrug. “I don’t allow retakes except for literal emergencies, and I don’t offer extra credit.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Damn. You’re strict.”

“My class isn’t hard, and I’m not that tough. If you’re genuinely struggling, that’s one thing, but if you’re goofing off and just think you can roll your skirt up and bat your eyelashes at me for an A, then you fucked up.”

She leans over the counter and slowly drags her gaze up my arms, over my tattoos, and to my eyes before staring at me with hooded lids. “What if it were me? You did say you loved my eyes?” She smiles again, showing her teeth before running her tongue over her bottom lip.

I clear my throat and shift in my seat to relieve the slight ache in my dick brought on by seeing her shiny, wet lips. “Let’s just say, thank God you’re not in my class.”

Sloane received a call shortly after and left the bar with a smile and a wave, so I had accepted the fact that I’d never see her again until I walked up to my gate and saw her staring down at her phone, reminding me that she said she was going to Maryland. She happens to look up as soon as I see her and narrows her eyes into confused slits before crooking her index finger toward her. I move across the terminal, sliding into the seat next to her, and I’m reminded of her spicy, citrusy scent. I take a deep inhale, and a carnal thought floats through my brain, wondering if she’d taste the same.

“Are you stalking me?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you here?” I can tell she’s not annoyed, though probably a bit confused by the coincidence, given that I never told her where I was going.

“Bold of you to think you’re the only person on this flight.”

She gives me a glare that’s more sexy than scolding while she tries to hide her smile. “Well, I told you where I was going, you could have said “me too”or“same "or something?” She lectures with a hint of amusement.

“I don’t make it a habit of telling strangers my business. You may want to start doing the same,” I tell her. I hadn’t meant to come off like I was telling her what to do, but she should probably practice being safer when traveling alone.

Not that it’s my business.

“Clearly, since you’re stalking me.”

I snort. “I’m from Maryland, and I’m going home. You want to see my license?” I ask, repeating her question back to her.

“Actually, I do,” she says matter-of-factly and holds out her hand.

I roll my eyes and pull my wallet out of my pocket, slide out my ID, and hand it to her. “If you show up at my house, I’m calling the cops,” I tell her, hoping my eyes say I’mmostlykidding.

“Yeah, right,” she grumbles before taking the ID out of my hand and staring at it. “River Kincaid.” She looks up at me with those fucking eyes again. “That’s a hot name. Your parents did you well. Good name, good genes. Your girlfriend must have her work cut out for her.” Her eyes cast downward to my left hand. “I don’t see a ring, so I assume you’re not married.”

I snort. “Is that your way of fishing to find out if I have a girlfriend? Kind of predictable, Sloane. Would it bother you if I did?”

“No, but it might bother your girlfriend that her boyfriend is flirting with me and can’t stop looking at my tits.” She scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip, and I want nothing more than to drag my teeth along the same path.

Guess I wasn’t being as sly as I thought.“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Not evenEllie? Who evidently lectures you?” she says while giving me a slight side-eye.

“Were you listening to my private conversation?”

“You weren’t exactly quiet,” she counters, and I realize she’s probably not going to let this go.

“Well, not that it’s your business, but Ellie is my brother’s fiancée, who, yes, finds a way to lecture me most days. Mostly about settling down and why I don’t have a girlfriend.”