Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(47)
“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.