Old ladies, house mamas, sweet butts, hood rats, and lays are allowed in the clubhouse only if escorted. No loose chicks.
Arianne chewed her lip as she contemplated the king-size bed in front of her.
After their intense encounter, she’d expected to be dragged up to the bedroom for some hot biker sex, but by the time they reached the new clubhouse, Jagger’s passion had cooled.
While Sinners partied around them, they’d spent an hour chatting about motorcycles in the clubhouse kitchen over warm beer and stale tacos as if they hadn’t almost just torn off each other’s clothes and had wild sex on his bike. And when the beer had run out, Jagger sent her upstairs with nothing more than¸ “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I’ll see you in the morning. The old love ’em and leave ’em routine, except she hadn’t had much lovin’ at all. She couldn’t decide whether he’d backed off because of her actions, something she’d said, or because he regretted what they’d done.
Which wasn’t a hell of a lot, as far as she was concerned. She’d been with other men. But none of them had fired her blood or made her heart pound. And she couldn’t imagine any of them hauling her onto a motorcycle and kissing her breathless. Jagger was a force of nature. Fierce. Unyielding. Utterly dominant. Her mouth watered at the thought of spending a night with him in bed.
The door opened behind her, and in that second she thought dreams could come true.
“Nowhere else to sleep.” Jagger banged the door shut behind him. “Got a full house tonight.”
Without waiting for her reply, Jagger stripped off his shirt, baring the broad, mouth-watering expanse of his chest, then climbed onto the bed. Arianne couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He was simply the most magnificent man she had ever seen. She tried not to notice the way the muscles of his chest rippled as he settled himself on the bedspread, or how his abs tightened into stark relief when he raked a hand through his damp hair, sending a trickle of water down his neck. He must have just had a shower. She fought back a fierce desire to lick the water droplets away and willed him to take his perfect body out the door.
“You comin’ to bed?” He lay back on the pillow, his arms folded behind his head, legs spread, taking up three quarters of the damn space. The quintessential alpha male.
“You mind telling me what’s going on? The whole hot-and-cold thing is—”
“Done.” He patted the bed beside him. “Shouldn’t have happened. Won’t happen again.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest. Well, that was for the best. She was leaving Conundrum and she was pretty damn sure Jagger wouldn’t be an easy one-night stand to forget.
“Fine.” She considered crashing on the couch downstairs, or even on the floor, but he wasn’t interested anymore, so why the hell not get a good night’s sleep? She walked toward the bed, tugging down the hem of the T-shirt she’d appropriated from the dresser drawer. “At least I know you’ll behave.”
“When have I ever misbehaved?”
“Oh, I don’t know. On the roadside? Possibly in those woods?”
“I was a perfect gentleman.”
Arianne scoffed. “Perfect gentlemen don’t stop their bikes in a copse of trees, pretending to have bike trouble, and then try to seduce a journeyman mechanic who knows a smooth running bike when she hears it.”
“Who seduced whom?” He rolled to his side, propping his head up with his elbow, and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. “I heard you say ‘or not’ after you kissed me.”
Mimicking his position, her body only inches away from his, she placed a tentative hand on his chest, enjoying the ripple of powerful muscle beneath the pads of her fingers. “I was referring to fixing your bike. And I didn’t kiss you. My lips were near your ear so you could hear me over the roar of your perfectly-tuned engine.”
With a low growl, he released her hair and tucked it behind her shoulder, his fingers lingering on her skin. Arianne’s body flamed in an instant. Caught by the dark intensity of his sensual gaze, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“You kissed me.” His hand slid to the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, sending sizzles of white lightning through her veins. His deep gaze, his gentle touch, his body, hard against hers, electrified her senses, and desire gripped her so hard, her knees trembled.
“So arrogant.” Bolder now, she caressed his chest, tracing the planes and angles of his pecs, and then ever so lightly she stroked a finger along his scar. But if he understood her silent question, he wasn’t about to answer it, so she continued her downward journey, following the soft trail of hair to his belt. “You probably think all women want to kiss you.”
“They do.” He rasped his breaths, his body burning beneath her touch.
Intoxicated by the feel of taut skin over rock-hard muscle, his scent of leather and body wash, and the crisp autumn breeze, she tried to ignore the warning niggle at the back of her mind—the feeling that started when she’d first walked into the clubhouse, and everyone turned and stared. Whispers had followed her through the living room to the kitchen. Jagger must have taken her hostage. Why else would he bring the Black Jack back onto Sinner turf?
Although Jagger had given his word she wouldn’t be harmed, she would be a fool to ignore the possibility he might succumb to the temptation to use her as a weapon against Viper, and more of a fool to forget that her goal was and always had been escaping Conundrum. Her energy should be directed at finding Jeff, not indulging her torrid fantasies with her father’s greatest enemy. Even for one night.
Heart racing, she tried to pull away, only to have him draw her so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek.
“You like my arrogance,” he whispered. “Or you wouldn’t have kissed me.”
“If it was a kiss—” She struggled to resist the fever of desire raging through her blood. “—and I’m not admitting it was, then it was a lapse in judgment brought on by your ill-conceived and transparent attempt to seduce me in the moonlight. And the fact you kissed me first.”
Jagger threw back his head and laughed. “I’m a man, sweetheart. And I don’t know many men who could resist a beautiful, sexy biker chick tucked up against them, her eyes glittering with excitement when my bike hit a speed that would make other women scream.”
Her pulse leaped when he tightened his grip, sending an erotic shiver down her spine. God, when had she ever been so fiercely attracted to a man? So deeply aroused, she almost didn’t care if he decided to hold her for ransom. “I don’t scream.”
His low guttural groan inflamed her, but not as much as his impassioned promise. “You would scream for me.”
She almost came right then.
With a low groan, he pulled her against him, crushing her breasts against his chest as he threaded one hand through her hair. His lips were so close, full and sensuous. Maybe she should take that kiss, after all.
Without warning, her mind slid back to her first kiss, her first love. At fifteen years old, she’d fallen hard for the bad boy of her high school, an eighteen-year-old wannabe rock star named Slick. On a grassy field under the beauty of Fourth of July fireworks, when he’d leaned over and pressed his lips against hers, she discovered Slick wasn’t a bad boy after all. He had a soft side, a tenderness he hid from the world, a misguided chivalry that had cost him his fingers and nearly his life courtesy of Leo’s blade.
Arianne’s blood chilled. This was wrong for so many reasons, not the least of which was the fact she was putting them both at risk. And for what? A night of passion? They had no possible future together, and she couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved.
She pulled away, then slowly peeled his hand off her hip. “I can’t do this. You were right when you said it shouldn’t have happened and won’t happen again.” After slipping on her shoes, she headed for the door. Surely there was some-where she would sleep downstairs. If not, she could crash on the couch and watch TV.
“Arianne.”
She looked back when her name dropped softly from his lips. His face held neither censure nor derision. Disappointment, maybe. Curiosity, certainly. And possibly … understanding? “Once I lay down the law, you’ll be as safe with the brothers as you are with me, but until that happens, it’s better if you stay here and I go.”
A sliver of guilt speared through her chest. “I don’t want to kick you out of your room.”
“And I never meant for things to go as far as they have.” Seemingly unabashed, he pushed himself off the bed in one lithe, easy movement. “I promised you would be safe with me. I said you could trust me, but—”
Arianne’s heart sank as he grabbed his shirt and tugged it on. For the price of a kiss, she could have spent the night in his arms. But the risk was simply too high.
“I couldn’t resist,” he continued. “You threaten my control like no one else.”
“All other reasons aside, Viper would kill you,” she said. “Without hesitation.”
“You’re afraid for me?” Incredulity flickered across his face.
“And me.” She twisted her mother’s ring around her finger. “You don’t understand. He has no limits. There is nothing he won’t do, no one who is untouchable—women, children, innocent citizens—”
“You?”
Her hand flew to her cheek, tracing the old scar, and then she wrapped her arms around herself. “Yes, me.”
He tilted his head to the side, considering. “And yet you came here.”
“You make me feel safe.” Her voice quavered. “I’ve never felt safe before. Even when my mother was alive, we were never safe. But when I’m with you … I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder. It’s an intoxicating feeling.”
“You are safe.” He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. “You’ll always be safe with me.”
Stunned that he would comfort and reassure her only moments after she had rejected him, awed by his strength, she accepted the gift of his understanding, leaning into his warmth with a shuddered sigh.
“After my mother died, the Jacks moved to a new clubhouse with a house attached to it. Our place had a separate entrance and separate yard, but invariably we would wind up at the clubhouse. Jeff and I watched out for each other, and I learned pretty fast how to take care of myself, but sometimes there’s only so much a kid can do. Even now…”
Jagger’s body tensed, his muscles quivering as if he were about to punch someone. “Never again.”
Drawing back, she stroked a finger along his rigid jaw, soothing, connecting. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s not your fight. And really, Jeff had it worse than me. He inherited our mother’s genes, so he’s thin and slight, sensitive, and artistically inclined. Not the rough-and-tumble son Viper wanted. Jeff was desperate for Viper’s approval, but Viper never thought he was good enough. I think that’s why Jeff turned to drugs. It’s part of the reason I wanted to leave. I thought I could get him into rehab once we were away from Viper and Jeff could be the artist he’s meant to be.”
“Might not be that easy,” Jagger warned. “We’ve had brothers hooked on speed, and they couldn’t shake it, even when we threatened to kick them out of the club. Drugs change people, change their priorities.…”
Arianne felt a tug at her heart. Maybe she was talking too much, revealing too much. But the cozy intimacy of the bedroom, his warmth and understanding, and his fierce protective instinct had lowered her defenses. “I have to try. When he’s not using, he’s the kindest, sweetest, most caring person I know. He sat with me through flus and breakups; he helped me decorate my apartment; he was there every time I had to go to the hospital, and the pictures he draws … he has real talent. I worked and saved for two years to get fake Canadian passports so we could get away and start a new life in Canada. Jeff picked them up the day … of the fire, and we were supposed to leave that night.”
“What happened?”
She looked away, not wanting to lie and yet not able to tell him the whole truth. “Viper caught him trying to sneak out. Sent him out on a job. Offered him something he wanted more than freedom—full-patch status, and Viper’s approval.” She skipped over the events at the clubhouse: Seeing Jeff loading weapons into the truck; the gun in his hand; her heart sinking with the knowledge she had finally lost him to Viper.
Jagger covered her hand with his own, trapping her palm against his warm cheek. “So, you’re just going to give up your life in Conundrum?”
“I want a better life. A life where I don’t live in fear. Where I’m not pulled out of bed in the middle of the night and forced to be a drug mule, or where I’m not chased down and beaten for disobeying the rules. I want a life where I’m not property. I’m going to be happy. And free. I’m going to find someone who cares whether I live or die; someone Viper can’t touch. I’ll do what it takes to make that happen.”
“So fierce.” He brushed a kiss over her forehead. “So determined. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with as much passion.”
She blushed. “Desperation. Not passion.”
“Beautiful.”
A wave of longing swept over her, making her tremble. How could he be so wrong for her and yet so right? A threat and a savior. An enemy and a protector. She allowed herself a brief moment to imagine what would have happened if she’d met him before … when the door wasn’t standing open … when she had no options. She imagined his warmth beside her in bed, his strength keeping her safe. And then she imagined succumbing to the desire that threatened to overwhelm her anytime he was near. Before she could stop herself, she leaned up and kissed him.
And then he had her in his arms, his mouth covering her own, his tongue searching, diving deep, his need drinking her dry.
A soft moan escaped her lips and she melted against him, her hands sliding over his broad chest and around his neck, pulling him down for more. God, he even felt safe, warm skin over rock-hard muscle, firm and unyielding. She threaded her fingers through his hair, soft and silky, just brushing the top of his cut. Then she licked her way up his neck, tasting the salt on his skin and feeling the pulse of his arousal against her lips.
“Arianne…” He pulled away, his chest heaving, body shaking as if he was fighting for control.
“Go,” she said. Because if he didn’t leave, she wouldn’t be able to turn him away.
Within a heartbeat, he was gone.
* * *
He was already on edge when she came down the stairs the next morning and entered.
Lack of sleep, thwarted desire, and the imminent bombing of the Black Jacks’ ice house had wound him up tight. But nothing had caused him more emotional disquiet than the memory of Arianne’s soft, sweet body in his arms, her warm lips pressed against his own. He ached with wanting her, a longing so fierce, he’d had to force himself to walk away. He knew the moment she kissed him, that he had to have her. And once he had her, he would never let her go. He had almost laughed at the paradox. Keeping her meant endangering her, and after Christel, that was a risk he couldn’t take.
She descended the staircase, thick, dark hair fanned out over her shoulders, every curve of her lush body hugged by her skin-tight jeans and even tighter T-shirt, the swell of her breasts visible above the low, scooped neck. Jagger hissed out a long low breath and every sense he had sharpened as he walked across the now partially furnished living room to greet her.
Wheels tore his attention away from the football game on television and wolf-whistled. Gunner, seated beside him on the worn, brown couch, cuffed him on the head. “She’s a guest. Have some fucking respect.”
“I thought she was a hostage.”
“Guest. Hostage.” Gunner grinned. “Same difference.”
“Go easy on him.” Sparky looked up from the table the executive board had used in their last church meeting. He had taken apart his Ruger MK III and was trying to beat Zane’s time for reassembly. Zane leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He held the record for weapon reassembly in the club and from his bored expression, he clearly didn’t think Sparky was a threat to his title.
“Coffee’s in the kitchen.” Jagger gestured Arianne to the door behind them. “I made bacon and eggs. They’re in the pan on the stove.”
“He cooks, too.” Arianne lifted an eyebrow. “Is there no end to your talent?”
Jagger chuckled. “He does many things. And I have talents I have yet to reveal.”
“But don’t try to talk to him until he’s had his first cup of coffee,” Sparky said. “Unless you want to be chewed out for doing fucking-dick-all.”
“Sparky. Language.” Jagger scowled. “We have a guest.”
Sparky threw up his hands in mock defeat. “For doing fucking nothing at all.”
“Better.”
Arianne smiled at their banter, then turned to Jagger. “Did you manage to save my bike?”
“It’s at Sparky’s shop. He’ll take you there after breakfast. The safe house is in the apartment upstairs.” He hoped she understood his meaning. Once she went to the safe house, she wouldn’t be leaving until he’d dealt with Axle.
“How bad is it?”
“Fairing is pretty badly damaged,” Sparky said, “but I didn’t see any obvious mechanical problems. Course, I didn’t give it a thorough check, but I could look at it—”
“I can do it.” Her eyes lit up, and Jagger fought back the urge to knock Sparky around the room. Arianne should be looking at him like that. She should sparkle for him and no one else.
“I’ve got my journeyman certificate, and if the fairing needs to be replaced, I can ride it naked.”
“Fuck. I want to see that.” Wheels jumped to his feet. “Do you ride naked all the time?”
“Wheels.” Jagger gritted his teeth against the mental picture of Arianne naked on her bike. Damn Wheels for putting the image in his head. “She’s talking about riding without fairing. How about you go out and polish all the bikes so you learn something about them, and after you’re done, you can draw a picture of your bike naked and label all the parts.”
Wheels paled. “I didn’t know—”
“Even Arianne knew what it meant,” Zane admonished. “Now so do you. And after today, you’ll never forget it.”
“Even Arianne?” Her hands found her hips.
Zane shrugged, stepping away from the wall. “You’re a girl.”
“I’m not a girl. I’m a woman. And you think women don’t know anything about motorcycles?”
“Generally, no.” He shot Jagger a puzzled look. “If you’re telling the truth, you’re an exception.”
She walked toward him and glared. “What else? I’ll bet you think women are weak and in need of protection.”
Seemingly oblivious to Sparky’s violent head shaking, Zane continued. “Generally, yes. Women need protecting. You needed protecting last night.”
Gunner gave a loud, indiscreet cough that sounded suspiciously like “shut the fuck up” or maybe it was “run away.” Jill and Tanya, two new sweet butts, emerged from the kitchen, drawn by the raised voices. Jagger vaguely recalled seeing them at the party last night. They must have spent the night with two of the brothers. No wonder there hadn’t been a spare room to crash.
“I needed protecting?” Arianne’s voice rose in pitch, and Jagger folded his arms, amused. The boys had never encountered a woman in the clubhouse who stood up to them as an equal. Not only that, she wasn’t the least bit intimidated or afraid, although all three men stood at least five inches taller than her. She may have had a tough life with Viper, but it had given her the kind of backbone he wished he could see in the prospects that came knocking at the door. Wheels included.
“I didn’t need protecting last night,” she said. “I had successfully evaded Leo, and Dawn and I were headed to her place. I also had a .45 in my jacket, and this.” She bent down and pulled up her jeans, revealing a holstered LadySmith .38.
“Christ.” Gunner licked his lips. “She rides, she fixes bikes, she’s hot, and she’s packing. She’s every biker’s wet dream.”
“She’s also Viper’s fucking daughter.” Zane’s lips curled in disgust, giving Jagger a first insight into his odd behavior. “What do you think Daddy Dearest would do if he caught someone playing hide the salami with his little princess? I’m guessing he’d slice off the guy’s balls. Maybe make a sandwich for lunch.”
“Ouch.” Sparky grimaced. “Don’t hold back there, Zane. Lay it on the line.”
Zane folded his arms and stared at Arianne. “Just sayin’ … girls who carry usually do it just for show. Or did your daddy teach you something other than trying to wiggle your way into a man’s bed?”
Jagger was across the room before he even realized he had moved, momentum carrying him forward until he had Zane by the collar. With a growl, he slammed Zane back against the wall. “You are so fucking out of line, I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Well, I’ll tell you where’s it’s gonna end,” Zane muttered, his voice so low only Jagger could hear. “With you bleeding in a fucking ditch. And I won’t stand around and watch it happen. She’s the enemy. Plain and simple. We can’t—”
Jagger cut him off with a glare and the word, “Don’t.”
They stared at each other, eyes locked, and then Zane looked away. “Whatever happens, you know I’ve got your back. But it would be better if I didn’t have to be there.”
Christ. He couldn’t fucking hit him now. But shoving Zane against the wall wasn’t enough punishment for his disrespect. Everyone was watching, waiting to see what Jagger would do, but he didn’t want to strain their friendship. He’d never hit Zane before, and he had no idea how his friend would react.
“Do I get a chance to defend my honor?” Arianne placed a cool hand on his arm.
Her touch calmed him, grounded him. His mind cleared and he released Zane and rasped in a breath.
“What are you talking about?”
Arianne stepped closer to him, angling her body between him and Zane. “Viper didn’t care much for me, but he taught me the three things he thought were most important in a biker’s life: how to fix a bike, how to shoot pool and how to fire a gun. And when Viper teaches a lesson, you don’t forget it. Zane accused me of packing for show. I’d like the chance to prove him wrong. Could be he apologizes and this all goes away.”
Words failed him. In a few short minutes, she had neatly defused the tension, saved a friendship, and helped him save face. Did Viper realize what an incredible asset he’d lost when he alienated his daughter?
With a curt grunt of assent, he turned to Zane. “Your call.”
“Let’s see what she’s got.”
Jill and Tanya swooped in on Arianne as they traipsed outside. Women were few and far between at the club, and they tended to stick together. He rounded the corner and caught up to Zane as he mused over what the females might be talking about. Arianne didn’t seem the type who would be into the usual girly stuff.
Zane looked over at Arianne and twisted his lips to the side. “Smart.”
“Very.”
“Don’t know if we would have survived that punch,” Zane said quietly.
Jagger’s throat constricted. “I would have found another way.”
“You always do, but this time you had help.”
They walked through the overgrown grass, skirting around bushes badly in need of pruning, until they reached the vast expanse of the back lawn. Jagger filled his lungs with fresh air and exhaled his tension. He only ever felt relaxed outdoors, and at this property there was more than enough space for his rapidly expanding club.
“Got word back from our men on the street early this morning,” Zane said. “Rumors are goin’ around that we snatched Viper’s daughter in retaliation for the fire. It’s given us some serious street cred. We might be able to secure a coupla contracts we couldn’t get before, make some of the gangs think twice before messing with us.”
Jagger bristled. “She’s not a prisoner this time.”
“No one knows that but us.”
They stopped in the middle of the lawn and Zane looked over at Wheels, dutifully polishing the bikes at the side of the house. “Might as well have some fun with this.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I’m in that kind of mood.” Zane waved at Wheels and yelled. “Prospect. Under that tree. Now.”
Ever the obedient prospect, Wheels jumped up and ran toward the large fir tree at the edge of the forest, about twenty yards away.
“You got a nasty streak, Zane.” Jagger fought back a smile as he glanced over at the shivering prospect. “Think he’ll piss himself?”
“Nah. I’m beginning to think a lot of his bumbling around is an act. When the chips are down, he outperforms even some of the senior patch. He’s got balls; he just doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“What do you want me to do?” Wheels’ quavering voice betrayed his anxiety.
Zane raised his weapon and pointed it at the trembling prospect. “Stay still. Arianne and I are having a shoot-out, and we need a target.”
Jill and Tanya shrieked, but Arianne only rolled her eyes. Jagger chuckled. Although he could never fully participate in the high jinks, he enjoyed prospect hazing as much as his men did.
Zane grabbed a stick and threw it on the ground as a marker. Arianne stepped behind it and made a show of positioning her weapon. Jagger almost felt sorry for Wheels, but the kid would be asked to do worse things than act as a living target during his prospect year. And he should know by now that Jagger wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.
“Smile, Wheels.” Arianne pointed her gun at Wheels, and he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a thin whine.
“Wait.” Arianne dropped her gun. “He’s too white. The glare is throwing me off. You want to draw some circles on his face, or should we use a target instead?”
Everyone laughed. Gunner led a shaken Wheels away, and Arianne and Zane took turns shooting a makeshift target Sparky quickly fashioned from an old dartboard. Jagger leaned against a tree, entranced by Arianne and her ability to shoot. Most of the old ladies in the club knew how to use a gun, but none could handle a weapon with such ease, or skill. She radiated confidence and calm as she squeezed the trigger again and again, hitting the target every time.
Jagger wondered if he could make the shower any colder than it had been this morning. And when she walked over to him, all sexy confidence and cheeky smiles after Zane had offered a stilted apology, he wondered if a man could die from being too hard.
“Good shooting.” He drew her around the west corner of the house, out of sight of his brothers, desperate to touch her but painfully aware that a show of affection would be inappropriate, especially if he wanted to foster the rumors she was there against her will.
“I held back. Didn’t want to show Zane up.” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her eyes glittering with satisfaction. Before he could stop himself, he cupped her jaw and traced the curve of her plump lips with his thumb. “Never seen you smile like this.”
Her smile broadened and his heart surged in response.
“Bikers are a discriminatory bunch,” she said. “Nothing I like better than to show them how wrong they are when it comes to their attitudes about women.”
His fingers tightened, the pressure forcing her to open her mouth, and he eased his thumb inside, stroking over the softness of her tongue.
Dominant, yes. Possessive, definitely. And yet he wasn’t trying to take away from what she’d accomplished. Far from it. Her power drew him in, intoxicated him; he wanted it as he wanted her.
Arianne met his gaze, her green eyes heated, intense. She licked his thumb, working it with long strokes of her little pink tongue until all his blood had rushed to his groin and he was so hard, he had to grit his teeth against the pain.
And then she turned her head, loosening his grip, and pulled away.
“I’d better get going. I’ve got a bike to fix so I can go looking for Jeff and get to work this evening.”
His mind still fuzzed with lust, it took him a moment to process her words. “You won’t be going to work. You’ll stay in the safe house until we’ve dealt with Axle.”
“I thought I was a guest this time, not a prisoner.” She wet her lips, and he felt every stroke of her tongue in his groin.
“And I’ve just shown you I can look after myself. No one will catch me on my bike, and I’ll be safe at work with Banks and the bouncers.”
Tension curled in the space between them, replacing their heat with fire. He was acutely aware of the steady thud of his heart, the rustle of leaves, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest, but even more aware of the fury in her emerald-green eyes. “I promised to protect you. I’m a man of my word. Means I’ll do what it takes to fulfill that promise.”
Arianne glared and Jagger silently willed her not to challenge him further, for the sole reason that he didn’t know what he would do. Her willingness to stand up to him, without hesitation or fear, was even more an aphrodisiac than watching her shoot.
“What if I don’t want your protection anymore?”
Then she would leave. He might never see her again. She could fall prey to Axle or that piece-of-shit Leo. Get hurt. Maybe killed. Unacceptable.
“You made that choice on the side of the road last night,” he said. “You accepted my protection, and you will have it on my terms until you’re no longer in danger.”
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “So I am a prisoner.”
“You’re mine,” he said simply. “Until I let you go.”
He expected some kind of outburst; a sarcastic comment, or even Arianne walking away. Instead, she snaked her arms around his neck, pulled him close, and ground her hip into the erection still straining against his fly.
“Let me go, Jagger,” she whispered.
“No.”
“I’ll take a guard with me.” She nuzzled his neck, her breasts pressing against his chest, and his body flamed, tightened in response. He could feel his control slipping, giving way to a fierce, primal urge to rip off her clothes and take her against the cold brick wall—to fully possess the woman who challenged him on every level and whom he wanted with every cell in his body. He wanted to hear her scream in passion; he wanted his name on her lips when she lost control; he wanted her body under his when he plunged his cock deep inside her and claimed her as his own.
What if I don’t want your protection anymore? What if she walked away?
“Four.”
She slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, then kissed him when he opened his mouth, her lips soft and sweet, tasting faintly of mint. “Two. And I’ll text you every hour.”
He kissed her hard, bruising her lips, sharing the pain of his desire. “Every half hour.”
“And when I see you again?” She rubbed up against him, a cat in heat, and he groaned, wondering how the hell he would make it through the day with a hard-on that just wouldn’t quit.
“Your sweet body just made me a promise. And I intend to collect.”