"Ignore him," I mutter to Jenny.
But she surprises me by calling back, "Better grab a fire extinguisher then, because it's none of your business who I date."
The room erupts in "oohs" and laughter. Torch clutches his chest like he's been wounded, but his grin only widens. "She's got a mouth on her, Beast! Good luck with that!"
I feel Jenny stiffen beside me, and I squeeze her arm gently. "He means it as a compliment," I assure her quietly. "They're just surprised to see me with anyone, let alone someone like you."
"Someone like me?" she asks as we reach the bottom of the stairs and navigate through the now-silent room of bikers.
"Someone beautiful," I say simply. "Someone who talks back."
Her fingers tighten on my arm, and I can't tell if it's from pleasure or discomfort at being the center of attention. Either way, I pick up our pace slightly, eager to get out of the clubhouse before more comments can be made.
As we reach the door, I hear Rookie whisper too loudly to Chaos, "Tank's gonna murder him."
Jenny must hear it too, because she mutters under her breath, "My brother doesn't control who I see."
We step outside into the crisp evening air, and I can feel her relax slightly once we're away from the staring eyes.
"Sorry about that," I say, leading her toward my bike parked near the entrance. "They're also not used to seeing me with a woman outside of... well..."
"Your bedroom?" she supplies, and I wince at the bluntness.
"Yeah."
We reach my Harley, a custom black Road King with matte finish and reinforced suspension to handle my size. I grab the spare helmet from the saddlebag. I've never had a passenger before, but King insists we all carry an extra helmet and offer it to her.
"Ever ridden before?" I ask.
Jenny takes the helmet, turning it over in her hands. "No. Tank never let me near his bike. Said they were too dangerous."
Of course he did. Tank's protectiveness of Jenny borders on obsession sometimes. Not that I can blame him. Their father was a controlling bastard who messed them both up in different ways.
"It's easy," I say, mounting the bike and stabilizing it between my thighs. "Helmet on, get on behind me, arms around my waist, feet on the pegs. When I lean, you lean with me. Don't fight the bike."
She nods, slipping the helmet over her head. I reach out to adjust the strap for her, my fingers brushing against the soft skin of her neck. She shivers slightly, and I pull back quickly.
"Cold already?" I ask, though I suspect that's not the reason.
"A little," she admits, and I'm not sure if she's lying or not.
I wait as she slowly swings her leg over the seat behind me, her dress riding up even higher in the process. I force my eyes forward, focusing on the handlebars instead of the warm body settling in behind me.
"Like this?" she asks, her arms wrapping hesitantly around my waist.
"Tighter," I instruct. "You don't want to fall off."
Her arms tighten, her chest pressing against my back, thighs squeezing mine through the denim. Heat floods my body despite the cool evening air.
This was a terrible idea.
"Ready?" I manage to ask, starting the engine without waiting for her response. The bike roars to life between our legs, vibrating in a way that's never felt quite this... intimate before.
I feel her nod against my back, and I pull out of the clubhouse lot, her arms clutching tighter as we accelerate onto the main road.
It's a fifteen-minute ride to my mother's house, fifteen minutes of Jenny pressed against me, her thighs squeezing mine when we take turns, her breath warm on my neck when she adjusts her position. Fifteen minutes of pure torture.
By the time we pull up to my mother's neat little house, I'm wound so tight I could snap. I cut the engine and feel Jenny's arms slowly unwrap from around my waist, her body pulling away from mine as she dismounts.
