Uncontrollable Temptations (Tempted #3)(40)

Until Jack.

Jack.

That walking, breathing, sliver of hell, masked as a man, shadowed in darkness.

At least that’s what he thinks of himself.

He is so much more. To me he is the light at the end of this tunnel of turmoil. He is the Mederma to my scars, the ointment that will make them fade away. Something I never saw coming but somehow he broke the walls around me without me even noticing.

He’s my hope.

And I realized all of that when he disappeared for five days. It started slow, like a baby taking his first wobbly steps before he jumped into the world exploring everything. My body became alive; the Band-Aid I hid myself beneath was ripped off. Jack had started pulling emotions and sensations from me that I thought had died in that fire with Danny.

But with any kind of good, comes a shitload of bad. I felt the ugly things too—jealousy and insecurities I didn’t know existed for a woman. It’s ridiculous, completely absurd, but uncontrollable. After I gave him the piece of my truth, he took off into the unknown, and even though he promised to come back to me, it wasn’t enough. By the third day Jack was MIA, I was a basket case and acknowledged that I had become dependent on Jack.

I had a medicine cabinet full of pain meds that I rarely ever used. It was one thing to live life lonely but another to live it lonely and addicted to drugs. Noble, I know. See there is a small part of my brain that thinks responsibly from time to time. However, that part of my brain seemed to shut off because now I was hooked on Jack. I needed him like I needed air. He gave me back a piece of myself without even trying and I wanted more. So much more.

I counted the hours, then the minutes of how long it had been since he left. My mind wandered and when I closed my eyes I pictured him, much like I had seen him the night I went to his clubhouse, with a willing mouth wrapped tightly around his cock.

By the fourth day, I hated Jack Parrish. I hated that he was a man of mystery. A man, who without giving me much of himself, had made me want to give him all of me. I hated that I missed him.

I hated that I felt anything at all for him.

And on the fifth day I decided I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I wanted to be numb again. I was halfway there when he showed up. One look at him and my thighs were clenching. So much for being numb. I hated Jack Parrish.

I gave him more truth by admitting I was using him.

He gave me his truth and told me he was doing the same.

I hated that too.

But too weak to fight, and too desperate for him, I agreed to keep using.

He put me in the shower and ordered me to pack a bag. In the middle of all my revelations the woman that lived two floors up from me was shot, resulting in my apartment building being ambushed by cops. I vaguely remembered the cops knocking on my door and telling me to stay put. They made it clear that no one could leave or enter the building.

Apparently, bikers and their broads were the exception because an hour later I was staring up at a sign that read Roll N’ Roaster.

Jack climbed off his bike and extended his hand to me, helping me off the machine that was still humming from our ride. He unlatched the chin strap and placed my helmet beside his before pulling me toward the restaurant. The numbness in my leg was acting up, probably from the ride, and I began limping my way toward the restaurant when he paused, his eyes drifting down to my leg.

“What’s the matter?”

I shook my head, dismissing his question and shook my leg out. The sensation slowly started to prick my toes and travel up my leg.

“It’s nothing, my leg fell asleep,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Poor circulation,” I added, before changing the subject.

“What is this place?” I asked, running my fingers through my messy hair, still damp from my shower.

He held open the door for me, ushering me inside and pierced me with a look of bewilderment.

“You’re kidding me, right?” He questioned, pulling me by the hand toward the line. I lifted my eyes to the menu that hung over the counter noting that apparently I was in the Mecca of melted processed cheese. The sign even said so, cheez on anything you pleez. The line moved quickly and by the time it was our turn to order I had only made it halfway through the menu.

“You’ve really never been here?” He asked, glancing down at me.

I shook my head and Jack took charge, ordering four roast beef sandwiches with cheese, two large orders of French fries with cheese and two cups of cheese for extra dipping. He completed the meal with two freshly squeezed lemonades before paying the girl behind the counter and taking a number.

“Go grab napkins and get us a table,” he said, before leaning against the wood laminated wall.

“Aren’t you going to need help to carry all that food?” I asked, his lips smirking at my question.

“I got it, Sunshine, but if you don’t sit your pretty ass down at a table we’re going to be eating in the parking lot.”

I glanced around the packed dining area and reluctantly went in search for a table. I spotted a booth for two in the corner of the restaurant and grabbed some napkins before sliding into the tight space. I lifted my head and was about to call out to Jack when I found him staring across the restaurant at me. I pointed to the table and his lips curved slightly before giving me a quick nod.

I told myself to turn away, to break the stare but I couldn’t. What I did was wish for a glimpse into his thoughts. I wondered if they were anything like mine. Did he want to know everything about me the way I wanted to know him? Did he want to know my past and help me write my future? Probably not.