Page 10 of Piston

Carlie nodded in understanding. "I'm right behind you, sister. Let's get shitfaced and forget about these dickheads for a while."

As we made our way to the bar, I tried to push thoughts of Piston out of my mind. But even as I downed shot after shot, I couldn't shake the image of him with that whore, or the sinking feeling in my gut that told me I was in way over my head.

Fuck feelings, and fuck Piston. I was done letting him get under my skin. From now on, I was looking out for number one - and that sure as hell didn't include pining after some biker who'd never see me as anything more than a quick lay.

I slammed my empty shot glass down on the bar, feeling the burn of the alcohol in my throat. It was time to move on, and if that meant drowning my sorrows in whiskey and bad decisions, then so be it.

The Iron Reapers were my family, but Piston? He was nothing but trouble. And I was done letting him drag me down.

FOUR

PISTON

Piston leansagainst the scuffed up wall, his fingers clutching a lukewarm bottle of PBR. Across the room, Jenny threw her head back and laughed at something Dagger said, her blonde curls bouncing.

What the fuck was so funny? Piston narrowed his eyes and took a long pull from his beer. It churned in his gut like acid.

Jenny touched Dagger's arm, her red fingernails bright against the black leather of his cut. The bastard grinned at her like she was the best thing since sliced bread. And she was eating it up, hanging on his every word.

Piston clenched his jaw until pain radiated through his skull. Bad enough that he couldn't get the girl out of his head. Now he had to watch her flirt with his MC brother like it was her damn job.

He should look away. Mind his own business. But he couldn't tear his eyes off the cozy little scene. Jenny blended right in, leaning on the pool table and shooting the shit like she'd been riding with the Steel Cobras for years. Like she belonged.

Over my dead fuckin' body. The thought came out of nowhere, fierce and biting. Piston's fingers tightened around hisbeer bottle until his knuckles turned white. He welcomed the bite of pain. Anything to distract him from the hot, prickling jealousy spreading through his veins like wildfire.

This chick was trouble, plain and simple. He'd known it from the second he laid eyes on her. So why couldn't he walk away? Why did some twisted part of him want to march over there, wrap an arm around her waist, and tell Dagger and every other bastard in the room that Jenny was his?

Because you're a goddamn idiot, that's why. Piston took another angry swig of piss-warm beer and tried to block out the sound of Jenny's musical laugh. He was in way over his head and he knew it. But hell if he could make himself care.

I drained the last of my beer and slammed the empty bottle on the nearest table. The sharp crack barely registered over the noise in my head. This was a bad idea. I needed to get my shit together before I did something stupid.

Like march over there and drag Jenny outside. Press her up against the wall and kiss her until she forgot all about Dagger and his smooth-talking bullshit. Until she was panting my name and begging me for more.

Fuck. I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to erase the mental image. It didn't help. I could still see it clear as day - Jenny's dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her full lips parted in a silent moan as I -

"Piston!" Dagger's voice cut through the haze of lust and frustration. "Get your ass over here, man. We need a fourth for pool."

I looked up and immediately wished I hadn't. Jenny was watching me, her green eyes dark and unreadable. For a second, I could've sworn I saw a flash of heat in her gaze. But then she blinked and it was gone, replaced by cool indifference.

I shook my head, both to clear it and to turn down the offer. "Count me out. I got shit to do."

It was a lie and everyone knew it. But I couldn't stick around and watch Jenny play house with my brothers for another second. Not without putting my fist through a wall.

Or worse, pulling her into my arms and kissing her senseless, club whores and consequences be damned. The urge was so strong it practically vibrated under my skin, pulsing in time with my racing heartbeat.

I needed to put some distance between us before I gave in to it. Before I ruined everything by letting my dick do the thinking for me.

Again.

Pushing off the wall, I stalked over to the bar and grabbed the first club whore I saw. She was pretty enough, I guess, with bottle-blonde hair and too much makeup. But all I could see was Jenny's face, the hurt and confusion in her eyes when I brushed past her without a word.

"Dance with me," I growled, pulling the woman flush against me. She giggled and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her ample chest into mine.

We swayed to the music, but I couldn't get into it. The whore's hands roamed over my body, dipping under my cut to stroke my abs. But her touch felt all wrong, too rough and impersonal. Not like...

Damn it, I had to stop thinking about her. About what it would feel like to have Jenny's hands on me instead, soft and tentative at first, then growing bolder as she explored every inch of my skin.

I tried to lose myself in the dance, in the feel of a warm, willing body against mine. But it was no use. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Jenny. The way she threw her head back when she laughed, exposing the slender column of her throat. The way her eyes sparkled with mischief when she teased me, daring me to give as good as I got.

---