The deep rumble of motorcycle engines announces the Riders’ arrival. Anticipation and a bit of worry tighten the back of my neck. It’s late. I’ve been shooting the shit with Anna for almost two hours now, so the meeting probably didn’t go as smoothly as Saxon hoped it would.

One look at him and I’m sure it didn’t. Saxon walks in ahead of the others, a big, dangerous package of muscle and doesn’t-give-a-fuck. He’s a hard man to read, never giving much away, so the anger I detect in the clench of his bearded jaw and the tense line of his shoulders means that he’s really pissed.

His intense blue gaze zeroes in on me.

Shit. Nerves tangle in my stomach. An angry Saxon is intimidating as hell. I love him like crazy and I know he won’t hurt me, but this is so new, and I have no idea what my role is right now. I’m not sure what’s expected of me.

Something is expected. That much is clear. The bikers who come in behind him all look my way and they’re not just the same curious stares that have been cast in my direction since Saxon and I got together. The stare that says, What the hell is Red Erickson’s daughter doing in Rider territory? This is different. Some of Saxon’s officers seem grim. Blowback, the Riders’ VP, always looks that way, but their enforcer Stone Wall is with him, too. I’d call Anna’s brother a good friend, and usually he’s got a grin for me, but now he’s showing the same hard, angry edge that Saxon is. And a few of the members I don’t know so well… God, their eyes are crawling all over me like they expect me to strip naked right here. What the fuck?

I don’t know what’s going on. Something obviously went down at the meeting. Maybe it involved me—or maybe it’s just spillover, if some of the Riders objected to taking on the Titans. Maybe some shit got tossed around and my name came up.

Whatever it was, there’s only one thing to do now: straighten my spine and take whatever Saxon gives. Then give him what he needs, too.

Saxon’s long strides carry him directly to the bar. I barely have time to smile up at him and say “Hey—” before his big hand clasps the back of my neck and he’s scorching my lips with a kiss.

God. Instantly lust shoots through my veins, warming everything that a few drinks haven’t already loosened. Moaning low in my throat, I tilt my head back, loving his taste, his possessive grip, the primitive way he simply takes what he wants. I know there’s more to this. He’s never kissed me like this in front of the others before. He doesn’t like participating in public displays. Yet he’s clearly staking a claim right now. Making a statement.

Jenny Erickson is mine.

I am. Completely his. And I love it.

My heart is racing and my nipples are throbbing when he lifts his head. His gaze holds mine and for a long second there’s no one else, just Saxon and this passion between us.

“You look so damn pretty, Jenny.” Low and deep, his voice rasps over my skin like an abrasive tongue. I shiver and he brushes his broad thumb over my kiss-swollen lips. “And you look like you want me to eat your sweet cunt. Do you?”

Five minutes ago I wasn’t even thinking of sex. Now my pussy is wet and aching and empty, and his blunt words make my inner walls clench with uncontrollable need.

I silently nod, my breath shuddering across his thumb.

“Good,” he says roughly. “Because I need to make you come.”