Page 3 of Jace (Wolf Rider MC Daddies #2)

Jace

I’m not a patient man.

Never have been. And I don’t suppose I’m going to start now either…

Life in the Wolf Rider MC doesn’t leave room for waiting around, not when you’re dodging bullets or brokering deals that could end in blood.

But for three days, Caleb’s been stuck in my head, a goddamn siren I can’t shake. Those hazel eyes, that sharp wit, the way he bit his lip like he was daring me to make a move—it’s got me twisted up in a way no boy ever has.

But there’s the thing, I don’t do feelings.

I do desire, control, the rush of claiming what I want.

And I want him. Want him bad .

The Rusty Spur was a chance encounter, but I’m not leaving it to fate to see the boy again.

I’ve got his name—Caleb—and a hunch about where a bookworm like him might spend his days. Willow Creek High.

A quick ask around town confirmed it: new English teacher, young, glasses, too sweet for a place like this. Sounds like my boy.

So here I am, parked across the street from the school, my Harley’s engine still warm under me, the late afternoon sun glinting off the chrome.

The bell rang ten minutes ago, and the last of the kids are spilling out, laughing and shoving each other.

I feel totally out of place, like I definitely shouldn’t be here.

But I’m not here to hurt the boy. I just need to see him again, to know if that spark was real or just whiskey-fueled back and forth bullshit.

The school’s a squat brick building, all faded paint and cracked sidewalks, nothing like the chaos of my world.

The truth is the building could do with a lick of paint, maybe some extra funding.

Hell, that ain’t my problem though. Far from it.

I never liked school, so I’ll be damned if I’m gonna step up to the plate now.

I light a cigarette, leaning against my bike, the leather of my jacket creaking. My tattoos itch under my sleeves, a reminder of the life I’ve chosen—wolves, skulls, the club’s motto inked into my skin.

Caleb’s the opposite of that life, all soft edges and quiet strength, but that’s what pulls me in. The boy’s a puzzle, and I’m itching to solve him.

I spot him through the classroom window on the first floor, his silhouette moving as he stacks papers. My pulse kicks up. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt tucked into some fawn chinos.

So cute.

So God damned cute.

I toss the cigarette, grinding it under my boot, and cross the street. The school’s quiet now, the parking lot nearly empty. Perfect.

I slip through the front door, the halls smelling like chalk dust and teenage angst, and find his room easy enough. The door’s half-open, and I lean against the frame, watching him for a second before he notices me.

He’s humming softly, oblivious, his glasses slipping down his nose as he sorts through a pile of essays.

The room’s all books and posters about Shakespeare and shit, a world so far from mine it’s laughable. But seeing Caleb here, in his element, does something to me.

He’s not just hot—he’s real, grounded, like he’s got a purpose I’ve never bothered to find. It might be too late for me to find that so-called purpose, but I can’t deny how good it must be to have one, certainly if what I’m picking up from this charming scene is any way accurate.

I knock lightly on the doorframe, and his head snaps up, eyes wide.

“Jace?” Caleb’s voice is a mix of shock and something else—curiosity, maybe. He pushes his glasses up, stepping around his desk. “What are you doing here?”

I grin, stepping inside, letting the door swing shut behind me.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” I say. “Figured I’d see what the good boy’s life looks like.”

His cheeks flush, but he crosses his arms, holding his ground. “This is my workplace, Jace. You can’t just… show up.”

“Oh, I can,” I say, closing the distance between us, slow and deliberate. His classroom smells like him—vanilla, flowers, and something warm that makes my blood hum. “And I think you’re glad I did.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a spark in them, that same fire from the bar.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” Caleb says, doing his best to hide a smile. “You know that, right?”

“Comes with the territory.” I lean against his desk, close enough to catch the quick rise and fall of his chest. “So, this is you, huh? Grading papers, molding young minds? Bet you’re the kind of teacher kids crush on.”

He laughs, a soft sound that hits me low in the gut.

“Flattery won’t get you far, Jace,” Caleb demurs. “And you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

I tilt my head, letting my gaze roam over him, slow and unapologetic. “Told you. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. That mouth of yours, the way you didn’t back down at the Spur. I like a challenge, Caleb.”

His breath hitches, and I see it—the way his body responds, even if his mind’s screaming caution. I’m pushing, testing his boundaries, letting my Daddy Dom edge slip through.

I want to see how far he’ll let me go, how much of that fire he’s willing to show.

“You’re trouble,” Caleb says, but his voice is softer now, less certain.

“Damn right I am,” I say, my voice low, commanding. “But you’re not running, are you?”

He holds my gaze, defiant, but there’s a tremor in his hands as he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Maybe I’m just curious,” the boy replies, and fuck, that’s all I need to hear. Curious is an open door, and I’m the kind of man to walk right on through it.

“Curious, huh?” I step closer, close enough that he has to tilt his head to meet my eyes. “Then let me show you something real. Come for a ride with me.”

His eyes widen. “A ride? On your motorcycle?”

“Harley,” I correct, rolling my eyes in mock disgust. “Not just any damn hog. Always a Harley. Best way to feel alive. Unless… you’re scared .”

“I’m not scared,” he snaps, but his blush betrays him. “I just… I don’t even know you.”

“You know enough,” I say, leaning in, my voice dropping to that rough, intimate tone that always gets a reaction. “You know I’m not like those safe little guys you’re used to. You know I’m trouble, and you’re still standing here. Take a chance, boy. One ride.”

He bites his lip, and it’s like a match to gasoline.

I’m imagining him pressed against me, his arms around my waist, the wind tearing through us, his hard cock pressed up against my back as his entire body reacts to the engine’s roar.

But it’s more than that—I want him to see my world, to feel the rush I live for. Maybe it’s selfish, dragging him into my chaos, but I can’t help it. He’s under my skin, and I’m not letting him slip away.

“I have papers to grade,” Caleb says, but it’s weak, like he’s grasping for excuses.

“Papers can wait. Life can’t.” I hold out my hand, a challenge and a promise. “Come on, Caleb. Live a little.”

He stares at my hand, then at me, his eyes searching mine. I see the battle there—good boy versus the part of him that’s itching to break free.

Come on.

Let yourself go, boy.

Live a little…

Finally, Caleb exhales, a shaky sound, and grabs his bag. “One ride,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “And if you get me killed, I’m haunting you.”

I laugh, a deep rumble. “Deal. Let’s go.”

We head out, his steps quick to match my stride, and the air outside is cool, the sky streaked with orange as the sun dips low.

My Harley’s waiting, all black steel and raw power, and I catch him eyeing it, a mix of nerves and excitement. I swing a leg over, settling in, and pat the seat behind me. “Hop on, young man. And try not to get too excited…”

Caleb blushed, hesitates, then climbs on, his movements careful, like he’s afraid to touch me.

But when his thighs press against mine, his arms looping around my waist, I feel it—a jolt, like the first spark of a fire. His body’s warm, soft, and I have to grit my teeth to focus.

“Hold on tight,” I say, glancing back at him.

“I’m trying,” he mutters, his voice muffled against my shoulder, and I chuckle.

Before I kick the engine to life, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out, expecting Tank or Razor, and sure enough, it’s a text from Razor:

RAZOR: Vipers hit our lookout. Church tonight. Be there.

My jaw tightens. The club’s war with the Iron Vipers is heating up, and I’m supposed to be on the front lines, not chasing a boy.

But right now, with Caleb’s arms around me, I don’t give a damn about club business. I shove the phone back, ignoring the guilt gnawing at me.

“Everything okay?” Caleb asks, his voice soft, and I catch a flicker of worry in his eyes.

“Yeah,” I lie, turning to flash him a grin. “Just you and me now. Just you and me…”

I rev the engine, the roar drowning out everything else, and peel out of the lot.

Caleb’s grip tightens, his body pressed flush against my back, and I feel it—the rush, the freedom, and something new, something dangerous.

Caleb’s not just a challenge. He’s a risk, one that could burn me worse than any bullet.

But as the road opens up, the wind howling around us, I know I’m already too far gone to care…