I try to stay away from Jenna for the rest of her shift, but I’m still hyper-aware of her presence in the clubhouse.

I can’t help but keep watching her out of the corner of my eye as she moves around the bar and brings drinks to the brothers. I catch every movement she makes. I notice the way her white T-shirt clings to the curve of her breasts, and a memory of her pert, pink nipples makes me practically bust the zipper on my jeans. I see her leaning over to serve a beer — perfect ass molded by her shorts — and almost come in my pants thinking about how good it would feel to plunge myself deep inside her. It’s fucking torture having her here. What’s even worse is that every once in a while, I catch her glancing over at me, furtively, like she can’t help herself.

It feels just like that summer five years ago. Here we are, dancing around each other again. It’s just a matter of time before we stop dancing. I can feel it.

The first hour or so, Jenna’s moving around pretty stiffly, like she’s not sure what to expect out of the brothers. But eventually, she starts to loosen up as they come to the bar to chat her up and make her laugh. Angel’s in back with Rock talking business because we have church later, and it looks like his absence is starting to make some of the brothers feel a little bolder about flirting with her.

A little too goddamn bold, for my taste.

Sarge seems especially taken with our new bartender. I watch from the other side of the bar as he pulls up a stool and starts saying shit to Jenna I can’t hear. I see her throw back her head and laugh a few times, and before I know it my blood starts to heat up in my veins. Sarge can be a charming motherfucker when he wants to be, but from what I’ve heard, his sexual tastes run a little on the violent side. As I watch Jenna roll her eyes and laugh again at something he’s just said to her, I know he’s making a play for her.

Jenna isn’t my old lady. I have no business getting between her and anyone. And hell, I know she’s somewhat protected by being Angel’s sister. As I watch Sarge flirt with her, I keep repeating these things to myself like a mantra. But even so, my blood starts to simmer, and then to boil.

The idea of Sarge, or any one of these men, bedding her is more than I can handle. By the time she walks by him and he slaps her on the ass, I’m seeing red and too far gone to care. I stand up, knocking my chair to the floor, and before I know it I’ve crossed the room in three strides.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” I snarl. I pull back and punch Sarge hard in the face before he even knows what’s happening. He falls backwards off the stool and hits the ground. Getting to his feet with a roar, he lunges for me. Sarge is a little bigger than I am, but I’ve got adrenaline on my side, and I’m not backing down. He barrels toward me, aiming to plow me down by the waist, but I’m ready for him. I crouch down low and catch him in the chest with an uppercut just as he rams into me. Then we’re both on the floor, trying to land punches where we can.

“—it! Stop it! Cas, stop!” Jenna’s voice seeps into the fog of rage in my head. I feel myself being pulled off of Sarge by a couple pairs of arms, and I look up to see that Tank and Skid are hauling Sarge up, too.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jenna cries, getting in my face like she has no idea how close I am to exploding.

I shake off the brothers holding me and grab Jenna by the arm, pulling her outside without a word as she continues to bitch at me. I’m practically shaking, I’m so angry, and I’m working hard not to take it out on her.

“What are you doing, Cas?” Jenna stumbles behind me until I round the far corner of the building, invisible from the parking lot. I turn and face her.

“Sarge should know better than to touch the sister of the VP,” I rasp, my jaw clenched tight.

Jenna huffs at me and rolls her eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, Cas. He wasn’t going to try anything. He was just being stupid.”

“Damn straight, he was being stupid,” I mutter. “He’s about to get his head bashed in.”

“Why do you even care?” she challenges me. “What, are you suddenly the protector of all women? Do you think I can’t take care of myself?”

“Of course you can take care of yourself,” I scoff. “In most circumstances. But shit, Jenna, this isn’t some frat boy we’re talking about here.”

“Cas.” Jenna’s clearly starting to lose patience. “Do you think Sarge is the first man to slap me on the ass? I’m a damn bartender. This shit happens to me all the time. I don’t like it, but I don’t have the luxury of taking it seriously. I need the tip money.”

“The next time it happens — no matter who does it — they’ll have me to answer to,” I growl.

Jenna’s eyes widen in surprise. “I don’t believe it,” she cries, shaking her head. “You’re jealous!”

I don’t reply, because she’s goddamn right I’m jealous.

“No,” she says then. “No. You do not get to do this.”

“Do what?” I mutter.

“Just because we had sex once years ago, you do not get to feel like you have some sort of claim on me, Cas Watkins,” she declares, jutting out her chin.

“If memory serves, we fucked more than once,” I correct her. My dick jumps at the thought.

That takes her aback for a second, but she squares her shoulders and continues. “You don’t own me, Cas.”

“Oh no?” I rasp, pulling her to me.

For a second, she resists. But when my mouth comes down on hers, the sound that comes from her isn’t a protest, but a moan. We crash back into the wall, and I lift her up, cupping her ass and pressing her thighs apart until the crotch of her jeans is pressed against the aching hardness of my cock. Jenna gasps, and I feel her instinctively buck her hips against me. It’s just as fucking good as I remember.

She moans again, more loudly, and slides herself against me, angling her hips so I know she’s aching for it, too. Her eyes had closed when I kissed her, but now they open again and stare at me. Her pupils are huge and dark. The look we exchange is electric.

If it wasn’t for the fabric between us, I’d be inside her right now.

I practically come at the thought.

I’m considering whether to pull her into the trees and give us what we both want, when a voice calls from around the corner. “Ghost! Church!”

“Fuck,” I groan, my lips sliding from Jenna’s. “It’s Angel.” I ease her to the ground and adjust my raging hard-on.

Jenna’s flushed and disheveled, her eyes hooded. Her mouth is open slightly, her breath coming in pants. “Shit. You go,” she tells me, and takes off in the other direction, toward the back of the clubhouse.

I round the corner to find Angel standing out by the bikes, looking around. “Where you been?” he frowns when he sees me.

“Just went out for a smoke,” I lie.

“Where’s Jenna?” Angel asks. “Beast said you two walked out together.”

“She’s, uh…” I see Jenna rounding the corner on the other side of the building. “She’s over there. She got mad at me and stormed away.”

“Huh.” Angel’s face is suspicious, but he lets it go. “Okay, well, come on. Rock’s ready to get started.”

I nod and follow him into the bar, casting a quick glance over at Jenna just before I go inside. Our eyes meet for a second, and then she looks away.

Maybe I don’t own her, like she said. But it looks like maybe I still do have a claim on her, after all.