Page 7 of Venus

His gray eyes, dark and stormy, seared into mine with intensity that both frightened and excited me. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” Piston whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

The truth of his words stung like slap. I should have. Yet, here I was, drowning in depths of his gaze instead of plotting my next move. “Maybe I still will,” I managed to say, though threat lacked conviction now tangled up in heat between us.

Piston’s half-grin was edged with dangerous knowledge. “Maybe you will,” he conceded, the low rumble of his voice challenge and promise rolled into one. The edge in his voice could have cut glass, and it ignited something defiant within me. “But not tonight.”

Charged silence stretched between us, thick with words unspoken and moves unplayed. All those lethal skills we both had, our secrets and lies, none of it seemed to matter in that moment. I wanted to take this where we both obviously wanted, but, for the first time in my life, was utterly terrified. I’d rather be in plane crash again than open myself up to the pleasure I might find in this man’s arms.

His hands traveled back down my back with ghostly touch I felt through my leather vest -- the vest that proclaimed me part of Salvation’s Bane MC -- felt like both caress and dare. I knew in that instant we were trapped in web of our own making, each push driving us deeper into chaos.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing mine with gentleness that belied his strength and the earlier aggressive kiss. This time I didn’t stiffen. I opened my mouth and thrust my tongue between his lips at same time he licked at mine.

This dual exploration became another kind of battle, not one of strength or skill, but of vulnerability and surrender. As his taste mingled with mine, a mix of danger, desperation, and underlying hint of something like hope blossomed in my chest. I could feel layers of calculated defenses crumble within me. I had time to wonder if this was all some kind of cruel test, but simply couldn’t hold on to anything other than man with his arms around me and his tongue lapping at mine.

Our kiss intensified, no longer just a clash of lips and tongues but something more… connected? His mouth on mine felt just as desperate as I did. He was right. I should have killed him, but I knew I couldn’t. Knew Iwouldn’t. That was problem. Because, for the first time since I was teenager, I had someone I knew I couldn’t kill. Sure, men and women in Bones, Salvation’s Bane, Grim Road, Iron Tzars, and even Black Reign were people I respected and maybe even cared for, but if I had to, I could kill every single one of them. I’d hurt afterward, but I could do it. Maybe. But Piston? Yeah. I wasn’t sure I could kill him, and had no idea why.

I tried to pull myself back, to reassess this whole situation. Except my stupid mouth wouldn’t be parted from the pleasure of his. My pulse hammered against his touch as if trying to beat out rhythm for new kind of existence, one where fear and pain weren’t foundation or even factor.

Finally, I managed to push against his chest and duck my head. I had no doubt there would be smirking grin on his face if I looked up and wasn’t sure I was prepared to deal with any emotions resulting from that embarrassment. Heavy groan seemed to be ripped from his chest as he pulled me closer, resting his chin on my head.

“Shortcake.” There was wealth of need and affection in that single word. It also was like needle scratch back to reality.

“Don’t call me that,” I muttered, familiar defensiveness rebuilding its walls around my heart. Shadows deepening in the fading light seemed to grow denser, as if they too sensed the gravity of what was unfolding.

Piston’s chuckle was low and somewhat pained. “Why not?” he asked, his voice teasing yet edged with something like sincerity. “It suits you.”

“I refuse to believe I resemble smelly doll in any way.” My chin went up and I gave him full force glare that should have shriveled his dick on spot. Instead, I felt it pulse between us. Yeah. I’d missed that before. How, I have no idea because it seemed Piston was big. All over.

Chapter Four

Piston

A couple of things went through my mind as I looked down into the upturned face of a woman who could be the deadliest female in the world. First was the fact that she hadn’t already cut off my dick for kissing her. Some might scoff, but, personally, I called it progress. Second, she actually did look like an angry little Strawberry Shortcake.

Her expression was as disgruntled as it got, but I absolutely could not stop my lips from twitching. When that expression abruptly changed to something altogether lethal, my cock got impossibly harder. Instead of grabbing her hands to keep her from stabbing me with those dagger-like nails of hers, or shoving away from her, or any number of safe, sane, and cunningly clever things, I simply gripped her hips and pulled her more firmly against me. Let her feel exactly what she did to me. If she still wanted to disembowel me, I’d take it like a man.

“If that name repeated outside this room, I’ll know where it came from.”

“It’s only for the two of us.” I grinned down at her. “Shortcake.” To my surprise, Venus gave me an annoyed look, but her lips turned up just the same. It was only a half smile, but it melted my heart. I’d known she was a remarkable woman all those years ago, but never truly appreciated her worth until I got close to her. “You’re still irritated, but I’ll take it.”

“More than irritated.” She chuckled, but the initial mirth was wearing off and her anger was poking through the surface. She muttered, “Cannot afford this.”

“Can’t afford what?”

“Nothing.” She stepped away from me slowly, as if waiting for me to pounce on her. “You should leave. I’m tired.”

I raised an eyebrow but gave her a slow nod. Then I narrowed my gaze on hers. “If you try to leave without me, I’ll know it.”

“No doubt you have spies all over compound.”

I didn’t even bother to deny it. “Yep. Keep that in mind when you’re sneakin’ out.”

“You might think you know me, Piston. You do not.”

“Oh, I know more about you than you might think. You and I aren’t so different.”

“El Diablo said much the same thing,” she muttered. “Look. If you want to scratch itch, I suggest you find club whore. I’ve got too much on plate as is to fuck with you, Piston.”

“If you’re tryin’ to piss me off so I’ll leave, you’re goin’ about it the wrong way.” I gave her a steady look, doing my best to keep a rein on my temper. She was trying to get to me. Even though it was working, I didn’t want her to realize it. She’d push until something snapped.

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