Piston by Andi Rhodes

Chapter Fifteen

_{I forget everything but the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything but him.}

Holland

“Are we going to sit here all day or go inside?”

I stare at my white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. When I pulled up to the gate at the front of Soulless Kings’ property, my nerves took over and my excitement for a normal day with Piston died a slow death.

“Hello,” Janessa says. “Earth to Holland.”

My head swivels to stare at her. “Huh?”

“When Piston invited you to this cookout, I don’t think he meant for you to stay out in the car the whole time.”

I drop my hands into my lap. “No, I know.”

“Then why are we still sitting here?”

“I… well… because…” I force a groan and lean my head back against the headrest.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the sun shining through the windshield. Or at least that’s the reason I tell myself. In reality, I’m trying to shut out the world and pretend I’m anywhere but here.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

I don’t even lift my head or open my eyes. I simply nod.

“Remind me again why that is a bad thing?”

“He’s supposed to stay firmly in the job category,” I say with very little conviction. “And somehow he’s wormed his way across that line into I-want-to-jump-his-bones-and-give-him-my-soul territory.”

Janessa laughs and I lift my head to glare at her.

“It’s not funny,” I argue.

“Yeah, girl, it is.” When I continue to stare, she sobers. “Look, I don’t know what he’s done over the last week to make you all gaga for him, but you don’t get to pick the path your heart leads you to.”

That’s just it. He hasn’t done anything. Nothing major anyway. He did fix my car and there have been several late-night phone calls and daily texts, but other than that, nothing.

Making contact with you a priority isn’t nothing, especially with everything else going on.

“Holland, you’re putting way too much pressure on yourself.” She reaches across the console and picks up my hand. “C’mon. Let’s go join the festivities and you’ll see. It’ll be fun.”

I take a deep breath and hold it until I feel my head start to spin. When I release the air, I force my nerves out with it. Janessa’s right. It’s just a cookout. Games and fun. Food and family.

Piston’s family.

I shove open my door and step out. I smooth my hands down my sundress as I look around at the others already enjoying the day. Piston said the cookout would mostly happen out back of the clubhouse but that it likely would spill to the side yard. He wasn’t kidding. There are dozens of people here, adults and kids. So far, they don’t seem to have spotted us so I continue to stare. There isn’t a single person who is dressed in anything other than what I’ve come to expect with bikers. Leather, denim, and a whole lot of flesh.

“Nope. Can’t do it.”

I whirl back around, but before I can open my car door, Janessa’s hand grabs a hold of my arm.

“Don’t even think about it,” she laughs and drags me toward the activity. “Let’s find Piston.”

We walk toward the side yard, and the closer we get, the more I can smell the food. It smells amazing but no amount of good barbecue is going to settle my nerves. Two small children, no more than eight or nine years old, run in front of us, laughing and shooting squirt guns at each other.

Before we can start walking again, large hands settle on my waist, causing me to jump.

“You made it.”

My toes curl in my sandals at Piston’s voice in my ear, his breath on my neck.

“She almost didn’t,” Janessa offers and I glare at her as Piston spins me around to face him. “She’s nervous. Maybe you could do something about that.”

Piston’s gaze darts from Janessa to me and back again. “I can take it from here. I’m sure there are several brothers who would be more than happy to make sure you have a good time.”

Janessa grins at him and I roll my eyes. It’s like Piston just spoke her love language. “And I’ll be happy to let them.”

She turns and heads in the direction Piston pointed. I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of me and I’m sure that was part of her intention. Well, that and she’s just horny all the time.

“Slut,” I call out.

“You know it,” she shouts back, never slowing down.

When Janessa disappears around the corner, Piston grips my chin and tips my face up. I try to avert my eyes, but he holds me firmly in place.

“Don’t look away from me,” he commands, and I can do nothing but obey. “That’s better. Now, why are you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” I lie.

He smirks. “Yeah, sweet cheeks, you do.”

His thumb caresses my cheek and I lean into it. My breath hitches and my brain becomes foggy. My nerves are still present but he’s doing a damn good job at making them feel like less of an issue.

“I like you, Piston.” The words are past my lips before I even realize I’m speaking.

“I like you too.”

“And that makes me nervous as hell.”

“You’re not the only one.”

I lock eyes with him. “Really?”

“Yeah, Holland, really.” He huffs out a laugh. “Woman, you’ve got me so tied up in knots it’s ridiculous. I was fully prepared to hate you, to follow through with all my threats the night of the underground fight. And then you opened your mouth, over and over again, giving me attitude. You don’t back down, even when you probably should. There’s just something about that that makes you irresistible. Reckless but irresistible.”

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Piston shifts his eyes from my face down to the spaghetti straps of my dress and then down to my painted pink toes. “You’re gonna kill me with that dress, you know that, right?”

I grin. “You’ll survive.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that, but I’ll sure try. I want to see what’s under it someday and I can’t do that if I’m dead.”

I slap his arm playfully. My nerves have fully disappeared. There’s something about this man that when he opens his mouth, the words that come out are so unexpected. On the outside, he’s a gruff, tattooed, muscled temptation, but on the inside, he’s… softer.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“A little bit.”

“Good.” He links his fingers with mine and practically drags me toward the back of the clubhouse. “Burly—he’s the club chaplain—is manning the grill today and he makes the best burgers in the state.”

I grip his hand tighter as a thought strikes me and dig in my heels to stop him. He looks back at me and raises a brow.

“What is it?”

I chew on my lip for a moment before spitting out my question. “Does everyone here know I’m a reporter? That I’m the reporter you’re working with?”

“Our deal had to be put to a vote so, yeah, they know.”

“Shit,” I mumble.

“It’s fine, Holland.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. “No one is going to give you a hard time. You’re with me and that’s enough to keep them quiet.”

“That’s great but how am I supposed to get them to open up to me if they think I’m only interested in what information they can provide me?” I push away from him and lift my eyes to his. “Piston, I don’t want them to think I’m only here for the story. I’m not. I’m here because…”

I close my mouth, unable to finish my sentence.

“Because what, Holland?”

I heave a sigh. “I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be. I’m here because I want to be around you and see what it’s like with you when there are no ulterior motives. I’m here because I want to get to know your friends, your family.” The more words I spew, the wider his grin becomes. “I get to know people by asking questions. How am I supposed to do that now?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?”

“Maybe,” I concede.

“Well, you do. We have a strict policy about cookouts and drama. As in, no drama is allowed. This is a family event and anything that pertains to the club, like our deal, is off limits. So no need to worry.”

“If you say so.”

Piston leans in and I close my eyes just before his mouth presses against mine. I stand on my tiptoes and throw my arms around his neck. His tongue glides between my lips, coaxing mine to come out and play.

Strong hands run down my back and over my ass. Piston lifts me easily and my legs go around his waist as he carries me. My body connects with something solid and I realize he’s pinned me against the clubhouse.

I don’t know how long the kiss lasts. Long enough for me to forget that I’m in a dress or that we’re probably putting on quite the show for little kids. I forget everything but the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything but him.

Until I hear the whistling and the catcalling.

“Get a room!” someone shouts.

I break the kiss. Piston groans in protest but doesn’t stop me. He steps back so I can slide down his body. When my feet connect with the ground, I smoothe my sundress back into place and pretend that I’m not embarrassed as hell.

“They’ve seen worse,” Piston assures me.

My mind conjures up images of the party Janessa brought me to. Yeah, they’ve all seen worse, but they haven’t seen me. There’s a difference. The image shifts to one of Piston, sprawled on the couch in the main room with a woman's head between his legs.

“Don’t go there, Holland,” he pleads as he lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my palm.

“Go where?” I ask, jealousy in my tone.

“You’re imagining things you shouldn’t be.” He taps my nose. “It’s clear as day what you were thinking. Your nose scrunched up and your eyes narrowed. There was no mistaking the jealousy and anger.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Piston throws his head back and laughs. A full belly laugh that only makes me want to smack him. I don’t, of course. It would likely only make him laugh harder.

When the laughter subsides, his facial expression turns serious.

“I have a past, Holland. We all do. But I haven’t been with anyone since I met you and I don’t plan on being with anyone other than you.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” He narrows his eyes at me, but there’s no anger in them, no heat. “But that promise comes with a warning.”

“What’s that?”

Piston leans in and nips at my ear before growling in it.

“I don’t play well with others and I never did quite learn how to share.”