“Something wrong with your bike?”
Arianne slid off the seat. Her hair fanned over her shoulders in a silken wave, and Jagger’s blood pulsed through his veins. Even in the thin light of the moon, he imagined he could see the flush on her cheeks, her lips plump and glistening, and the glow that came only with the exhilaration of speed.
Every muscle in his body tensed as she squatted down beside the bike, her head level with the part of his body that had led him here.
“I spent a lot of time with our road captain fixing bikes in the Jacks’ shop, and after I left, I apprenticed as a mechanic at Liam’s Garage.” She looked up at him, green eyes sparkling under the light of the moon. “If you want to get off, I can take a look.”
Hell, yeah, he wanted to get off. But as she stood, arms folded, waiting for him to dismount, instinct told him he’d made a mistake bringing her here. A full frontal assault would likely be met with an equally forceful rejection. If he had to put a finger on the quality that distinguished her from the women who frequented the clubhouse—old ladies excepted, of course—it was class. Ironic, given who her father was.
With a heavy sigh, he swung his leg over the seat and stepped onto the ground, leaves crunching under his boots. He would have to gain her trust for a true taste of those lush lips. She wasn’t a woman for a quick fix, but a slow, sensuous seduction, and when he finally breached her walls, he knew it would be worth the wait.
“Turn it on.” She gestured to the engine, and Jagger lifted an eyebrow. He strictly enforced the hierarchy in the club, and the concomitant levels of respect. And that meant no one told Jagger what to do.
Except, apparently, Viper’s daughter.
But only in private. Her political savvy, both in the clubhouse and in the bar, had impressed him. She had an innate understanding of the nuances of biker culture. Although she had disagreed with him, she never directly challenged him in public. And when he’d reprimanded the Devil Dog, her reaction made it clear she’d understood the power play, and the fact he had claimed her for the night.
“We’ll take it to Sparky. He’s my road captain.” Heart heavy with regret, Jagger took his seat and gestured for her to join him.
“You don’t think I can fix your bike?”
“Pretty hard to do in the dark without tools.” He patted the leather pillion seat behind him.
“Then why did you stop here?”
Jagger gritted his teeth. For the first time, he wished he were more adept at lying, but military families prided themselves on bringing up children steeped in honor, discipline, loyalty and honesty, and his family was military three generations back. Evasion, on the other hand, was part and parcel of being an outlaw. “On the bike, Arianne.”
If he were a man with even an ounce less self-control, her amused smile would have been enough to have him twining that shimmering hair around his fist and hauling her to his lips for a sweet taste of her honey. And when she brushed a kiss over his cheek before settling on the seat behind him, he almost did.
“Well, now that our romantic rendezvous in the moonlight is over, let’s get going.” She settled herself behind him, wrapping her arms around his body. “I have a bike to fix.” She pressed herself against his back and whispered her lips in his ear. “Or not.”
His body reacted as if he’d been shot with adrenaline, his groin tightening, heart thudding in his chest, desire thickening his veins. To hell with the slow sensuous seduction. He wanted her. Now. And damned if he would wait another minute to have her after that invitation.
“Off the bike.”
Arianne sighed as she slid to the ground. “Seriously, Jagger. This is getting…”
Her voice trailed off when he turned and lifted her, helping her straddle the seat in front him, her hips only inches away from his cock, which was rock hard and pressing painfully against his fly.
One taste. Just one taste.
Arianne tilted her head back, looking up at him through the curtain of her lashes, a smile playing across her lips as she cupped his jaw and stroked her thumb over his cheek. “Well … this promises to be more interesting than taking apart your engine in the dark.”
Fuck. Could she be any more perfect? No screams or giggles. No dissembling or games. She wanted him, and she wasn’t afraid to let him know it.
He tugged her hand away and pressed his lips against the sensitive underside of her wrist. Control. He needed control. His body thrummed with the need to take her, an overpowering primal urge like nothing he’d felt before. But if he gave in to instinct, he’d hurt her, and from what little he knew of her life, she’d suffered enough.
“Jagger?” Her voice caught, broke, and when he looked up, he saw the heat in her eyes.