Page 12 of Tempt Me

I find Tack in the foyer. He’s still wearing the clothes from earlier. His off-white T-shirt has a skull design across his chest. I love how the shirt clings to his muscled chest. A year ago, I saw a club slut run her fingers across the design. I nearly lost my shit with jealousy.

Of course, Tack casually brushed off her hand and walked away. He’s always so composed around the women as if they can’t possibly tempt him.

Meanwhile, tonight, as the moonlight warms the hard curves of his handsome face, I find myself tempted closer.

“Are you planning to stand here all night?” I ask Tack while joining him near the front doors.

“Your people got me set up in a bedroom, but it’s too early to sleep. Besides, I’m getting hit by constant texts.”

Tack shows me his phone with new messages from his club’s management. I notice how he hasn’t responded to any of them. Tack shoves the phone into his front pocket.

“You seem hyper,” I murmur and shuffle away from him. “Do you need something to bring you down?”

“Why, are you planning to say mean stuff to me?”

Snickering at his comment, I keep moving toward the kitchen. I consider turning on the light yet feel as if I might alert someone to my presence.

“I’m paranoid,” I tell him as I walk to the fridge. “I keep imagining someone outside watching me.”

Tack inches around the large island. His gaze never leaves me. I feel him plotting. Rather than show his hand, he only says, “Your people have the property locked down tight. I wouldn’t worry about eyes on you.”

I retrieve a banana-flavored Snapple and gesture toward the fridge. “Grab whatever you want. There’s beer. If you want something stronger, we can hit up the liquor cabinet.”

When Tack leans in front of me to reach for the apple-flavored Snapple, his proximity fills the room with our need. He smells so inviting.

For her foster brothers’ birthdays, Carys O’Malley buys each man a new cologne. On Tack’s thirty-second one, she bought him one with sandalwood and vanilla. Whenever I get a whiff, I find myself wanting to rub up against him.

Fighting against my temptation, I step back and use the kitchen island as a buffer. “You saved me tonight.”

“You would have done the same for me.”

“I would,” I say with too much emotion. “I would run toward danger to protect you, Tack.”

He sets his drink on the island and struggles against the words in his head. He knows I don’t want to hear them. He makes me weak on my best day, and I’m especially vulnerable tonight.

“I’m going to Hong Kong,” I tell him in a desperate attempt to sever the painful need between us. “I leave the day after tomorrow.”

Tack lowers his gaze and struggles with the right thing to say. “When Suzanne called me, I tried to convince her to let you stay, but you know how she is.”

“Do you think my leaving is a mistake?”

“For your safety, no, probably not. But for me, it’ll hurt to know you’re so far away.”

In the past, I couldn’t imagine merging Tack’s life with mine. I’ve lived a safe existence, except for when I got punched defending a pregnant Carys O’Malley. Tonight, I was the victim of an attempted abduction. I got mugged a week ago. I can’t go home. My life is no longer safe.

Of course, Tack’s life is never safe. He faces danger every time he’s on the road. People can take a shot at him when he’s out to eat. He could be ambushed while stopping at the store. Tack lives his life with a target squarely on his back.

“Were you afraid tonight when you faced those men?” I ask him after returning my half-full Snapple to the fridge.

“My only fear was you were hurt.”

Frowning at the casual way he dismisses his safety, I ask, “Don’t you worry about getting hurt?”

“If I let myself worry, I might choke in a pinch.”

Inching closer, I shiver as his alluring scent reaches me. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well, I don’t want that, either. I just don’t worry about it,” Tack says and studies me. “If I died, would you give my eulogy?”

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