She didn’t have to look up to know Jagger was watching her. She could feel his gaze burning into her skin, but instead of intimidating her, his frank interest made her bold. Lifting her head, she shook off her fear, and met his stare full-on, smiling before she dropped her gaze. Confident, not challenging. That was the key.
And from the smile that spread across his lips when she reached the table, she could tell she’d played it just right.
“Vexy.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through her body, sending a rush of heat straight to her core. And he’d remembered to use her road name.
“Nice to see you again.” And she meant it. She’d been fantasizing about him all week, mentally stripping off his clothes, running her hands over the breadth of his shoulders, his massive chest, those taut abs, and then lower, tugging off his belt, her own heat rising as she ripped open his fly. Power, barely contained, beneath her, above her. Inside—
Jagger gave a satisfied rumble, as if her words—or her face—had settled something in his mind.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll start with some of this.” The Devil Dog seated be- side Jagger pinched Arianne’s ass.
Without hesitation, Arianne grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. “I’m afraid my ass isn’t on the menu.”
Wham. Jagger thudded a knife on the table between the outstretched fingers of the biker’s free hand. "You don’t fucking touch her. You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. And you sure as fuck don’t disrespect her."
The table stilled. If he had been any other man, she might have thanked him verbally, or she might have pointed out that his actions were dramatic and unnecessary, since she had the situation in hand. But he wasn’t just any man. He was an outlaw biker president, and his actions weren’t directed solely at saving her ass from a squeeze. In that brief exchange, he’d laid down the law for the bikers on both sides of the table. First, he was in charge. And second, Arianne belonged to him.
So she gave him a simple nod of thanks. Her response seemed to please him. His face softened almost imperceptibly as he unclasped her hand from the Devil Dog’s wrist, then tugged until she released her captive. Her skin tingled at his touch, and when he rubbed this thumb lightly over her knuckles, she felt each stroke as a throb between her thighs.
Praise for ROUGH JUSTICE:
"Castille takes the MC genre and lights it on fire! I want my very own Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club bad boy!"—Julie Ann Walker, New York Times bestselling author
"A sexy and dangerous ride! If you like your bad boys bad and your heroines kicking butt, Rough Justice will rev your engine. A great start to a new series!"—Roni Loren, New York Times bestselling author of Nothing Between Us
"Raw, rugged and romantic, Rough Justice is so gorgeously written you’ll feel the vibration of the motorcycle engines in the pit of your stomach, smell the leather and fall in love with this story!"—Eden Bradley, New York Times bestselling author of Dangerously Bound
"Fascinating and chilling."—RT Book Reviews (4 Stars) on Rough Justice
The fun doesn't end there!
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