Uncontrollable Temptations (Tempted #3)(12)

I fought the urge to close my eyes and fly away with the feeling of utter peace. Instead, I kept my eyes wide open to witness the world around me, the world I ignored since the fire.

I gripped the leather that covered him, holding on for dear life and threw my head back, letting the wind wash over me. I forgot all about the burn that evoked so many memories tonight. The fire I lived through, the scars that desecrated my body, the love I lost—it all became a distant memory. I even forgot about Danny.

I pressed my thighs closer against Jack, trapping him between me as he turned the motorcycle onto the street I lived. The false sense of feeling as if I was going to fall overcame me but Jack maneuvered the bike like he was born to do so. He pulled up in front of the seedy apartment complex I called home and I felt disappointment settle in. My chrome horse and carriage, and my prince of a biker had just turned into a pumpkin. The engine died and so did the little part of me that was reborn.

My hands fell from his jacket, dropping awkwardly to my sides and my legs parted, loosening their grip on him. I watched as he lifted his eyes toward my apartment building, silently assessing the drug dealers that were making a score and the couple fighting in the court yard. I worked the helmet off my head and threw my leg over the bike, standing beside it and holding his helmet out for him to take.

Jack’s eyes diverted from the building to mine. It was the stare I had become accustomed to, the one that looked right through me, breaking through my steel exterior and seeing all I tried to hide.

“Thank you for the ride,” I whispered, looking away from him. It was too much, the ride, the temporary rebirth of myself, the way he looked at me and the way he was making me feel. It was unnerving and I couldn’t handle it anymore. Not tonight.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he replied, dropping his kickstand and maneuvering off his bike.

My eyes snapped to his, and I shook my head.

“That’s unnecessary,” I said.

“It wasn’t a request, Sunshine,” his voice rough and impatient.

“I don’t think it’s wise for you to leave your bike here,” I countered, desperate for him to let me be.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head slightly, his eyes dark as they fixated on mine. It was evident there was nothing I could say or do that would change his mind.

“Very well,” I conceded, turning around toward the walkway. He walked closely behind me, too closely. His arm snaked around me once I reached the doorway, to pull open the door and hold it for me to pass through. I stared at his hand pressed against the glass, pausing to take in the tattoos that cover his fingers and wondered if there was a square inch on his body not covered with ink.

“I’m on the fourth floor and the elevator is out of order.”

“Reina, keep it moving,” he said gruffly, leaving no room for argument.

I climbed the stairs, flight after flight with Jack close behind me, finally making it to the landing of the fourth floor. I didn’t look over my shoulder anymore, learning it was a waste of time to argue with the man. I led him passed the crack whore that sat in the middle of the hallway, heard him mutter something I couldn’t comprehend and then paused in front of my door. I grabbed my keys from inside my purse and fitted them into the lock. Turning the door knob, I opened the door, stepped inside, flicked on the lights and turned around to bid Jack farewell but collided with his large solid frame.

His hand closed over my wrist and he lifted my arm that had been burned, dropping his eyes from mine to take in the nasty mark that ran up my forearm.

“Let’s fix you up,” he said. “Do you have dish soap?”

I parted my lips to speak then snapped them shut and nodded toward the kitchen.

He kicked the door shut with his leather boot. My hand tucked into his much larger one, he walked me to the tiny kitchen in my apartment. He looked unbelievably large in my kitchen, so completely out of place.

I should tell him to leave.

Instead, I watched as he rolled my sleeve up my arm, and carefully touched my injury. He held my arm over the sink and poured the dish soap over the shiny purple skin. I closed my eyes as the thick soap coated my irritated skin.

“Keep your arm up,” he instructed, turning around to turn on the water. He dipped his hand under the faucet to test the water before taking hold of my wrist again and placing it under the stream of water. “Do you have any A & D ointment?” He asked, turning my wrist slightly so the water washed all the soap off.

“I have Mederma,” I replied. If he only knew the contents of my medicine cabinet. I had every burn cream, every scarring ointment the drug store sold, not to mention a variety of pain and anxiety meds. “I’ll go get it,” I blurted.

He shut the faucet and nodded, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. I hurried into the bathroom to grab the cream before he followed me or insisted on getting it himself. By the time I came back into the kitchen he was leaning against the counter staring at a photo of me and Danny that was tucked under a magnet. I watched as he uncrossed his arms from his chest and reached for the picture.

“Here,” I choked out, holding out the tube of cream for him, hoping that he wouldn’t touch my photograph. It was all I had left, the only thing that hadn’t turned to ash.

His eyes slowly lifted to mine, assessing me, noting the urgency in my voice. Jack pushed off the counter, keeping a steady eye on me as he closed the distance between us and took the cream from my hand.