Page 38 of Piston

I shrug. "I don't know. Now that I'm living here, with you, it feels weird still working there. Especially in that skimpy top, flirting for tips..."

He sets down the gun and turns to face me, his intense gaze boring into me. "You do what you want, Jen. I ain't your keeper. I know you love that job."

My heart swells at that. He gets me, he really does. But still...

"Yeah, it's fun and all, but...I'd rather be spending more time with you." I smile at him tentatively. "Maybe we could go for a ride later? Just us?"

Piston's face softens and he reaches out to caress my cheek. "I'd like that, baby. Let me finish up here and we'll head out, just you and me. Anywhere you wanna go."

I beam at him, my earlier reservations melting away. This is why I'm here, why I'm his. Screw the bar, screw everything else. When I'm in his arms, it all makes sense somehow. The club, the danger, the uncertainty swirling inside me--none of it matters. I'm his, and he's mine. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Got a surprise for you first," Piston says with a gleam in his eye. He reaches behind the workbench and pulls out a shiny black motorcycle helmet, holding it out to me. "Custom made, just for you."

I take the helmet, my jaw dropping as I turn it over in my hands. It's glossy and sleek, with a purple design swirling along the sides--my favorite color. On the back, "Property of Piston" is emblazoned in bold white letters.

"Holy shit, Piston..." I breathe, tracing the lettering with my finger. "This is incredible. But...property of Piston? Really?"

He shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ain't nothing to hide, baby. You're mine, simple as that."

I know I should probably be offended, assert my independence and all that feminist jazz. But the way he says it, the raw honesty and possession in his voice...it sends a shiver straight down my spine. I'm his, marked for all the world to see. And goddamn if I don't love it.

"Well then," I say, slipping the helmet on and straddling the bike behind him. "Guess you better show me off."

Piston grins wolfishly and revs the engine. We peel out of the garage and onto the open road, the wind whipping past us as we fly down the highway. With my arms wrapped around his waist and my body molded to his back, I've never felt so free, so alive.

This is where I belong, on the back of Piston's bike, the rumble of the engine between my legs and his strong body anchoring me. The rest of the world fades away until it's just us, the road, and the wide open sky.

As we ride, I find myself relaxing into him more with each passing mile. The vibrations of the bike, the heat of the sun on my back, the solid warmth of Piston...it's intoxicating. Addictive.

I rest my chin on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck. He reaches down and squeezes my thigh in response, a low growl emanating from his chest. The simple touch ignites a fire inside me and I tighten my arms around him.

This is crazy, the depths of my feelings for him. It's only been a month but I'm in deep, drowning in him, in this life. The danger, the passion, the unbreakable bonds of the club...it calls to something primal inside me. Something I never knew I craved until I met Piston.

I used to think I knew who I was, what I wanted. But straddling this bike, clinging to this man...I'm realizing I'd onlyscratched the surface. He's unearthed a side of me I never knew existed, a hunger for adventure, for rebellion, for something more.

As we round a curve, Perdition comes into view, the clubhouse rising up from the desert like a beacon. Piston slows the bike and pulls into the lot, killing the engine.

I climb off, legs shaky from the ride, and pull off my helmet. Piston does the same, reaching out to run his fingers through my windblown hair, his touch electric on my scalp.

"Best ride of my life," I tell him, my voice husky.

His eyes darken and he tugs me closer, his lips hovering over mine. "Ain't over yet, baby."

And then he's kissing me, deep and dirty, right there in the middle of the crowded lot. Claiming me, in front of everyone.

I kiss him back just as fiercely, not giving a damn who sees. Let them all know who I belong to. Property of Piston, now and always. I'll wear his brand with pride.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to come up for air," a deep voice chuckles.

We break apart and I turn to see Mason striding towards us, Carlie tucked under his arm. She's grinning like the cat that got the cream, her cheeks flushed.

"Can you blame me?" Piston smirks, his arm snaking around my waist. "Got the hottest old lady in the club."

Old lady. The words send a thrill down my spine. It's crazy how much has changed in such a short time. A month ago, I was just Jenny, the sports bar waitress with a dead-end job and a nonexistent love life. Now I'm Jenny, Piston's woman, his ride or die.

"I don't know about that," Mason drawls, pressing a kiss to Carlie's temple. "Think I might have you beat there, brother."

Carlie swats at his chest, her smile blinding. "Quit it, you two. There's plenty of hot to go around."

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