The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (14 page)

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.