The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (19 page)

And she had turned her back. After he accepted the cheers and commendations from his men for snatching Viper's prize from under his nose, he'd dismissed her enraged declaration that she was nobody's property with a simple, “You're mine.”

Well … not so simple. He'd curled his hand around her neck, dragging her toward him, plastering her body against his. Then he had pressed his lips to her ear, his voice dropping to a low, threatening growl, and repeated the word that set her teeth on edge: “Mine.”

So she'd walked away. The alternative was to slap him, and although she longed to do so, she couldn't bring herself to challenge him in front of his men. Her lessons in respecting the authority of the president were too ingrained. Inside and out.

The door closed and she tensed when the dead bolt snapped into place. Still, she didn't bother to turn around. Instead she carefully positioned the repaired fairing on her Ninja and inspected the result.
Damn
. The lacquer hadn't dried evenly. She'd have to start again.

A draft of cool air made her shiver despite the coveralls she had thrown over her clothes, but not so much as the shadow she glimpsed out of the corner of her eye. The shadow of a man who had defied Viper. A man who had protected her. The man who now called her “mine.”

“Leave me alone.” She swiped a grease-covered hand over her nose and grabbed a socket wrench from the set beside her. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“How about thank you?”

She pushed herself to standing and whirled around to face him. Jagger leaned against the tool bench, thick arms folded over his cut. Her gaze traveled down his muscular body, to the hand-tooled leather belt and the Harley-Davidson buckle shining in the last rays of the afternoon sun, which streamed through the window. And then her focus slid below his belt to the powerful thighs and the prominent bulge at his groin. Her cheeks heated and she looked away.

Mind out of the gutter.

“For what? For doing to me what Viper did? For treating me like a piece of property? You can't own me.” Her voice rose in pitch and her body shook with the effort to contain her emotion. “This is the twenty-first century. It's against the law.”

“Since when do one-percenters obey the law?” Although his voice was calm and even, there was no mistaking his tone. This wasn't a discussion. It was a
fait accompli
.

Arianne shuddered. In the short time she'd known Jagger, she had come to realize he was far more dangerous than any of the Jacks, maybe even more dangerous than Viper. So cool. So calm. So utterly in control of everything and everyone around him. Nothing surprised him. He seemed to plan every move at least three steps ahead, enforcing his will before ever making a demand.

“What are you saying?” She squeezed her wrench so hard, her knuckles whitened. “I've paid for my life with my freedom? And now that you own me, you expect me to do your bidding?”

He held up his hands palms forward. “You're upset. I understand that. But stop right there before you say something we'll both regret.”

But she couldn't stop. A lifetime of anger, pain, and humiliation bubbled over in her utter despair at letting her guard down only to see there was nothing on the other side except more of the same. She had trusted Jagger despite herself, only to have the freedom that had almost been within her grasp snatched away.

In frustration, she threw the small wrench at him and reached down to pick up another as he dodged her throw. “It's not going to happen. I'm not property. Not for Viper. Not for Leo. Not for you. Not for anyone.” Her voice rose, to a shout. “How could you do this to me? All I ever wanted was to be free.”

“Stop.” Louder now, his voice cut through her rant but not through her rage.

“I'm leaving. If not on my bike, then on someone else's, and if I don't have a bike, I'll damn well walk.” She threw another wrench and Jagger stalked toward her, ducking to the right to avoid the flying tool.

Her third wrench went wide, but by the time she picked up a fourth, he was bearing down on her too fast, an unstoppable force. She took one step back and then another, but he kept coming and coming until her back hit the wall and his hand clasped firmly around her wrist. Arianne turned her head to the side, squeezed her eyes, and steeled herself for his fist.

“Drop it.” His forceful tone left no room for argument.

She dropped the wrench. But when he released her wrist, and the strike didn't come, she slapped at his chest in a frenzy of blows. “Get away from me. You treated me no better than Viper ever did.” She cut herself off and glared. “This is why I hate bikers. I hate being part of this world where women are nothing but pawns in a game, property to be traded and used and abused and cast aside. The only way I ever got any respect was to be as good as or better at what they did. So I learned to shoot better and ride better and play pool better. And yet in the end, I'm still nothing. I'm a ‘girl.' I'm the prize you snatched from Viper.”

Her chest heaved as she rasped her breaths, her breasts brushing against his cut. But when she looked up, she saw neither anger nor scorn in the depths of his eyes. Instead she saw concern, sympathy … and goddamn unyielding determination.

He hugged her face with his warm hands, even as he trapped her with his body. “The things that happened to you—and one day I want to hear everything—don't happen in my club. I won't deny that misogyny exists, or that women take on roles that might be looked down on generally by civilians, but in return for what they do for the club, they are given respect and protection and they know they won't be harmed.”

“Why would you care what happened to me? That's all in the past.”

Jagger bent down and touched his forehead to hers. “Because you're
mine.
And ‘mine' means you have my protection. ‘Mine' means I'll look after you. It means nothing happens you don't want to happen and no one touches you without your consent. It means your life is in my hands and I will do everything in my power to ensure you are safe and secure and your needs are met. It means something happened to you that twisted your perception so bad, you look at us and you see only them. I'll make that right. I'll give you justice. I'll give you back whatever was taken from you.”

“Respect?”

His face softened and his lips quirked at the corners. “I remember someone telling me respect has to be earned.”

A violent, desperate tremble shook her body as she struggled against a deep-seated longing for what he offered. A gift she could never accept because the price was simply too high—freedom and control, the two things she had fought for all her life. “You can never give it back.” She pushed him away. “What I lost is gone forever.”

His hands slid to her shoulders and he pulled her toward him, his intoxicating scent of leather and autumn leaves confusing her senses.

“‘Mine' means I'll find a way, Arianne. It means I will do everything I can to make you happy, give you as much freedom as I can. But always, you will belong to me.”

“Please.” She twisted out of his grasp. “Don't do this. You did what you had to do for the club. I get that. You get justice and a reputation as a kickass MC president for taking Viper's daughter. And you could rationalize it on the basis you were helping me by sending a message to Viper that I wasn't here by choice. It was a win–win situation, and we both received a benefit. But that's it. There's nothing else. There is no protecting me or looking after me or fixing a past that can never be fixed. There is no giving me back my life. There is no
mine,
Jagger. There's only you, president of the MC, who lives and breathes for the club. And there is me, who lives and breathes for the day I get out of Conundrum forever.”

“There was no way in hell I was letting you go.” He leaned so close, her head dropped back, her mouth only inches from his.

“Do you understand?” His hand curled around the back of her neck. “This evening in that vacant lot. There was no way in hell I was letting you go. I will never let you go.” He threaded the fingers of his free hand through hers, joining them palm to palm.

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. “What does that mean? Are you saying you want me to be your old lady? Because I won't do it. I don't want to be a biker's old lady. I don't want to be a biker's anything.”

“I want you, Arianne.” His voice dropped to a husky rumble. “More than anything I have ever wanted in my life. And no, not as an old lady. I won't subject you to that kind of risk. So if this is the only way I can have you, then this is how it will be.”

He wanted her. Just as much as she wanted him. And although she hated him for what he had done, the part of her that understood wanted to take what he offered, even if just this one time.

“I want you to be mine in every sense of the word.” Stepping closer, he raised their twined hands and then thudded them against the wall above her head, pinning her in place.

Far from eliciting a fear response, his dominance aroused her. Her body arched to accommodate the stretch of her arms, her breasts pressing against his chest as he firmed his grip around her neck. Unable to stop herself, she tipped her head back and parted her lips in silent invitation.

Demanding, hot and hungry, his lips moved over hers, forcing her mouth open for the determined thrust of his tongue. Possessive. Dominant. Ruthless.

And then he was everywhere, searching and claiming, his hands sliding down her body, fingers digging into soft flesh, pressing her against the steel of his erection. Passion suffused his kiss, desire and need.

Arianne melted against him with a soft groan that only seemed to inflame him. His arms wrapped around her, their bodies so close, she could feel his heart pound against her ribs. Giving in to the tension that had been building since the day they met, she slid her hands over the broad expanse of his chest, and then froze when cotton gave way to flesh.

“You're hurt.”

“Just a scratch.”

She circled a finger lightly over the wound, which was still raw and caked with dried blood. “It needs to be tended to.”

“I got something else needing tending that hurts a hell of a lot more.”

Arianne twined her arms around his neck, then pulled him toward her, the last of her inhibitions drifting away. “Ah, the dirty mouth again. Say something else. Your dirty talk makes me wet.”

“
Christ
.” He strained against her grip. “Don't tease, sweetheart. I won't be able to stop.”

“I don't want you to stop.” She leaned up and nipped his neck, then licked the wound, sliding her tongue down to the hollow at the base of his throat as his taste, hot musky male, seared across her tongue.

“Arianne…” His protest went unheeded as she ground against his hardened length.

“Take me,” she whispered. “I don't want to think. I don't want to feel. I don't want to see, smell, touch, taste, or hear anything but you. I want to pretend this evening never happened and just for now that this is real … that I'm yours and you're mine and that I'm safe and happy and no one is going to take it away.”

“You are mine.” He unzipped her coveralls and shoved them down to her waist. “You are safe. And no one will take anything away.” Without pause, he lifted her shirt, reaching around to flick the catch on her bra. Her breasts spilled into his waiting palms and he cupped them, squeezing gently as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples until they hardened into peaks.

“So beautiful.”

Arianne trembled, arching into his touch. “More.”

He obliged by bending down and drawing her nipple into his mouth, hot, wet, and warm. He nipped and teased, flicking his tongue back and forth until her head fell back and she groaned his name.

“Say it again.” His deep rumble reverberated through her body. “I want to hear my name on your lips and nothing else.”

“Jagger.”

He knelt in front of her, first sliding her coveralls down, then opening the button on her jeans and easing them slowly over her hips. Arianne sifted her hands through his hair, letting the silky strands slip through her fingers.

“Like these.” He traced the lace along the edge of her red silk panties, following the crease of her thigh. So close, but not close enough to where she wanted him to go.

She moaned softly and he looked up and smiled. “Been waiting a long time to have you, sweetheart. I'm not gonna rush. I want to enjoy your body.”

“My body would be more enjoyable if you finished taking off my clothes.”

He laughed and steadied her while she kicked the clothes away, but he wouldn't let her remove her panties.

“You take those off, and it ends right now.” He cupped her sex with his hand, pressing his palm firmly on the silk barrier covering her clit, and every nerve in her body flared in response. “When I take you, sweetheart, I want you so wet and so ready, you're gonna come fast and you're gonna come hard and you're gonna squeeze me so I'm coming with you.” He splayed his fingers, forcing her legs apart. “Open for me. Let me play.”

Arianne yielded to the pressure, parting her legs as the warmth of his hand soaked through her panties and she thought she'd combust from the heat raging within her.

“Don't I get to play, too?” She nuzzled his neck and then lightly nipped his skin, delighting when he growled. Her biker liked it rough.

“You want my cock?”

She smiled and licked her lips. “Yes, baby, I want your cock.” The term of endearment slipped out too fast for her to catch it. But it felt right, and from the warmth in his eyes, it felt right to him, too.

“Have at it. I did promise to give you what you want.” He stepped back, releasing her and she instantly felt bereft.

Hands trembling, Arianne stripped off his cut. Desperate to touch his bare skin, she was tempted to toss it to the side so she could get her hands under his shirt, but a biker's cut was his heart, and although she was more determined than ever to leave this world after the encounter with Viper today, she couldn't bring herself to throw Jagger's heart on the floor.