Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)

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.”