Uncontrollable Temptations (Tempted #3)(50)

Chapter Twenty-One




I lazily opened my eyes, blinking and trying to focus as I remembered the events of the previous night. I glanced down at my relaxed body and Jack’s vest still wrapped around me. I smiled, happy last night wasn’t a dream but in fact my reality and turned to face the man responsible for my smile. I reached out and ran my fingers along the bare mattress, quickly lifting my head and glancing around the room in search of him.

I sat up, pulling the vest closed and wrapped my arms around myself as I looked around the room. The bathroom door was open, his boots were gone along with the clothes he wore the night before. I pushed the sheets off me, swung my legs over the bed and padded toward the chair grabbing the bag he told me to pack. I unzipped the duffel bag, pulled out some clothes and walked into the bathroom, figuring Jack was downstairs.

I stared at myself in the mirror, eyes widening as I glanced at the reflection of a woman who looked content. I slid the vest from my body, turning slightly and lifting my arm to look at my scars. They were still there, just as I expected them to be and I was okay with that. They’d always be there but they wouldn’t control my life anymore.

I quickly showered and dressed, regretting that I washed my hair because I forgot to pack a brush. I twisted my wet hair into a bun and clipped it on top of my head, threw on my jeans and tunic and grabbed his vest, throwing it over my shoulder. I didn’t know what to expect walking through the hallway, wasn’t sure if I’d find people having sex or having pancakes but to my surprise it was very quiet.

I made my way down the stairs, searching the large room for Jack but came up short and found Blackie sitting at the bar, nursing a beer. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see what time it was and how long I had slept but it was only ten in the morning. I glanced back toward Blackie and conceded the man had a problem. Maybe that’s why he was so cranky.

I was never scared of Jack, not since that first night he walked into Dee’s, but Blackie? He scared the shit out of me. He turned his head, his eyes finding mine as he curled his lip and snarled.

Shit.

“Good morning,” I said, clearing my throat as I walked toward the bar. “Is Jack here?”

His eyes diverted to Jack’s leather vest, and he intently watched as I laid it over the back of one of the stools.

“Jack’s gone,” he said flatly, turning his head and lifting his beer back to his lips.

I bit the inside of my cheek in order to stop myself from asking him why he drinks so early in the morning. I don’t think he’d like that much. In fact, I should turn around and march right back up the stairs because anything I say to this guy will likely piss him off.

“Okay, I’ll just call him,” I replied, lifting my phone and scrolling through my contacts.

“He won’t answer,” he retorted. I watched as he opened a tiny plastic bag and pulled out a bud of weed, breaking it up with his fingers.

Momentarily distracted, I watched him slip the granulated herb onto the rolling paper. He rolled the joint, stuck it between his lips and fetched a lighter from his pocket.

“Why?” I croaked, shaking my head, trying to break from my trance. “Why won’t he answer?” Dread churned in my belly and it took everything inside me not to revert backward and believe Jack bailed on me and my ugliness. That this morning, once he woke and realized how fucked I truly was, he headed for the hills. But I was there last night, and I couldn’t fool myself into believing that shit if I tried. Jack wanted me, he accepted me and in his own way he allowed himself to be mine. I needed to keep reminding myself of that.

Blackie ignored my question as he lit his joint, inhaling a stream of smoke, holding it for a few moments before he blew it out, puffing out little ringlets of smoke.

He turned, narrowing his eyes as I pulled my shirt over my nose and extended the joint in my direction.

“You want a hit?” He taunted, menace in his eyes.

I stared at the joint before dropping my shirt from my face and took a step closer. I carefully took the joint from his fingers, shocking the menace. Fuck you.

I lifted the burning paper to my lips and inhaled until my lungs felt heavy and the back of my throat felt as if it was on fire. I shoved the joint back in his face as I started coughing.

He rolled his eyes, ignoring me as I coughed up a lung, and took another hit.

That shit was potent. Or I was just an amateur. Probably a bit of both, I decided, pounding my fist against my chest cavity.

Blackie shook his head, clipping his joint with the tips of his fingers and sliding what was left of it into his cigarette pack.

“What did I do to you?” I asked, taking a deep breath, my lungs felt like cement.

“I didn’t twist your fucking arm,” he insisted.

“I’m not talking about that and you know it,” I said, as he snapped his head toward me and pierced me with a look. Scary bastard, this man was but something told me the old phrase you catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar wouldn’t work with a man like him. “You don’t seem like a man who’s afraid to speak his mind. So why don’t you stop being a bitch and tell me what your problem is with me?” I dared, crossing my arms as I leaned against the bar and narrowed my eyes at him.

“Don’t take it personal, it’s your breed I have an issue with,” he declared.