Striker: A Dark Bully Romance (Redwood Rebels Book 1) by Rachel Leigh (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📕

give me some damn privacy. “I said put them on.” He taps his bare wrist. “We ain’t got all day.”

I start walking to the adjoining bathroom, but he stops me. “Uh uh. Right here.”

“You’re delusional. I’m not taking my clothes off in front of you.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes slide down to my bare legs. “Fine, you can wear my boxers to your house. Hope Daddy doesn’t mind.”

Hope washes over me, and I’m sure the smile on my face gives me away. “I’m going home?”

“Just to pack your shit and get some pants. We’re taking a little hike today. Might wanna dress the part.”

Any hope is quickly diminished. “A hike? Why?”

His shoulders steel, and agitation gets the best of him. “No more questions. Change. Now.”

He stands there with his eyes glued to me, and I have no choice but to slide down his gray and white checkered boxer shorts. Thankfully, my hoodie hangs down low enough to hide the parts that I don’t want him to see. I watch him as I kick them to the side. His gaze following every move I make. Like some sort of sick pervert who gets off on watching me strip out of his clothes.

Unfolding the shorts, I give them a shake. “Where’s my underwear?” I look up and see him twirling my pink thong on his finger with a shit-eating grin on his face. My stomach churns when he shoots them toward me like a rubber band. “Seriously? Was that necessary?”

Tugging the corner of his lip between his teeth, he smirks. “Might wanna pick those up.”

Closing my eyes, my cheeks fill with air. Puffing it all out at once, I pull the hem of my hoodie down over my ass and turn around, then bend to pick them up. Glancing at him behind me as my head hangs low, his arms are still crossed over his chest. He bends at the waist; his head hangs forward and his eyes meet mine. But not before skimming every part of my body beneath the hoodie. He curls his lips upward. “Nice. But I’ve seen better.”

Such a fucking asshole. Quickly snatching up my underwear, I tuck my shorts under my armpit and slide them on before even turning around. “I don’t even have a toothbrush.” I wiggle into my tight jean shorts and zip them up.

“Use your finger. Or you can use mine.”

“Gross, I’m not using your toothbrush.”

“I know you're not. I meant that you can use my finger. I’ll even let you suck the toothpaste off.”

Pulling my hair out of a ponytail, I comb my fingers through my hair and snarl at him, “Are you always this much of an asshole?”

“Not always. Sometimes I’m a dick, too.”

Shaking my head, I sigh. “Let’s get this over with.” Pushing past him, I head for the door, but he beats me to it. Grabbing the handle and pulling it open as he watches me out of the corner of his eyes.

“No funny business, got it. We go get your stuff. You tell your dad exactly what I tell you to say.”

We step out of the room and start walking down the stairs. Then out another door, where Talon begins punching in a code to set the alarm.

“What about school?”

“You’ll still go to school. But don’t think that you won’t be watched, because you will.” He hooks an arm around my neck, pulling me close, like we’re old friends. The scent of pot and cigarette smoke no longer lingers on his clothes. He actually smells good. Really damn good. Like cedarwood and citrus—pineapple maybe. I catch myself sniffing him, and when he looks down at me with a cockeyed stare, I look down the long stretch of the hallway and see his henchmen waiting at the end.

“Oh yeah, do you have an army of men lined up to keep track of me now?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Who? Them?” I laugh, but I really don’t find it funny because, the truth is, these guys probably will be watching my every move. I just hope no one else plans on me stripping down in front of them. The one and only reason that I didn’t slap Talon and lock myself in the bathroom is because he already learned, and probably memorized, every fold and curve with his fingers anyway. I’ve never been self-conscious about my body. In fact, I’ve done things that most would call deplorable—though I find it satisfying in a weird way. But still, it’s different when it’s not by choice.

“Amongst others,” he finally says when we reach the guys. “You can’t be trusted.” He gives me a push into the arms of Lars. “Until you can, you’ll be handled in the way we see fit.”

Gulping air, I peer up at Lars who has his lips pressed into a firm line. He looks down at me, and my stomach twists in knots when I feel his dick harden against my thigh. His dark brown hair, about the same color as Talon’s, hangs down on his forehead. He throws his head back to brush it out of his eyes while still holding me tightly in his arms. “You hungry, pretty girl? I’ve got something for you.”

“Eww, get away from me.” I push off of him and sneer with disgust.

Talon begins walking down the stairs, and Lars gives me a gentle nudge to follow. All the while Zed is staring at me like I’m some sort of meal that he plans to cut into and devour. I wanna say something. Ask him why the hell he’s looking at me like that, but if I know Zed like I think I do, he won’t even answer me, and if he does, it will be all lies. I’m starting to think that all these guys know how to do is withhold information, lie, and prey on women like their dicks are a gift to us all.

“Come on, shithead. We have to get this over with,” Talon barks at Tommy, who