Page 215 of The Tempted

Chapter Ten

I stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around my body and leaned forward to wipe the steam from the mirror. I stared at the image reflected in the mirror and pondered the last twenty-four hours. The soft flush on my cheeks, a reminder of Jack and the sensations he evoked inside of me.

I went to bed last night, the scent of his cologne lingering on my skin, allowing me to hold onto the memory of feeling him inside of me. I don’t know what came over me, what possessed me to give myself to him. After, seeing him at his clubhouse and fleeing I never in a million years imagined he’d end up at my doorstep or between my legs.

He opened himself up, laid his secrets before me, causing my heart to ache for the loss he endured. He made me feel. Just as he had the night on his bike. Then he battered me with his words, making me feel some more, opening the gates of anger. Finally, he ended his assault on my feelings with the sensations of him, deep and alive inside of me. Any way you slice it, Jack broke my resolve, tore through my walls and made me feel. A simple ride on the back of his bike, his own heartbreak, his accusing words, his body, I felt it all.

It was a beautiful thing, realizing I was capable of more than just existing. But as beautiful as it was it was also alarming. I wasn’t willing to rely on a man to put the pieces of my life back together. No man, and certainly not one that went by the name of Bulldog.

I believe that people come into your life for a reason and Jack stormed into mine, breathing life into my soul. But with life he brought disgust. His crude ways and filthy mouth, the arrogance that radiated from him, it was all despicable. And yet, it was those three things that drew me to him, the three things that inebriated my self-control and allowed me to give in to him.

The towel fell from my body and I slowly turned to my side lifting my arms above my head, my eyes fell upon the scars that marred my skin. The puckered flesh that ran along the underside of my arm down my hip. I had been so consumed with Jack that I didn’t remember the scars. Looking at them now, seeing all their ugliness, I felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t seen them. They were mine, my pain, my demons to carry, and I wasn’t ready to share them—especially not with him.

I reached for the tube of Mederma, squeezed the ointment into my hand and foolishly applied it to my skin as I did every day. They’d never fade—but one could hope couldn’t they? When the time came, if the time ever came, that I found someone I was willing to share this piece of myself with, maybe the scars would disappear.

I finished my routine, brushed my teeth and slipped my robe on before padding into the bedroom. I glanced at the clothes that lined my closet; they were split in half, depicting the two versions of Reina DeCarlo that lived within me. The flashy, edgy clothes of a girl who loved life versus the unflattering, baggy clothes of a girl hiding behind the threads, running away from life.

It’s funny how something as superficial as clothes used to make me happy. Actually, it’s not funny at all and just sad. Sad that a girl who worked hard as a paralegal, needed her boyfriend to sign for a car loan since her own credit was shot. A consequence of blowing every paycheck on fancy shoes and designer suits, suits that were donated to goodwill after the fire.

I sometimes wonder what Danny saw in me. I get I was a pretty girl, sexy even, sitting at the bar sipping a cosmopolitan. I had seen him a couple of times, always sitting alone at the other end of the bar. He always chose the most well-polished women to take home with him. Then one night he chose me.

I know the look I was selling that particular evening, the sexy career girl look, and Danny bought right into it. I just never understood why he didn’t demand a refund after a while.

I stared back at the clothes, the two sides of the closet, neither of them appealed to me today. I decided I needed to make peace with who I was now and stop hiding from it. I could lay my past to rest and embrace the journey of this new version of myself. A journey that Jack put me on the path to.

Maybe I could like the new me. They say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, maybe the girl I hid from was a stronger person than the girl I missed. Maybe she was only weak when it came to resisting the big bad biker. TheBulldog. It was uncanny, the connection I felt towards him, and the more I fought it the stronger the connection became. I was torn between letting myself go, and giving into the temptation that was Jack and running scared. One should be afraid of him of the feelings he evokes with just a glance or a crass word but not me. I wanted more. I was curious about him and even more curious to test my own limits.

I grabbed a pair of jeans from one side of the closet and a baggy sweatshirt from the other side. I quickly dressed, even put on some makeup but didn’t bother doing my hair. I piled my hair on top of my head in a messy bun and bent down to pull on my Ugg boots.

I peered at myself in the mirror; a mixture of both Reina’s reflected at me and I knew it was time to find a happy medium. I’d start by finding clothes that fit me. I would not be a label whore anymore, that was a shallow part of the old me I didn’t miss, didn’t even like. But I wasn’t going to wear men’s sweats anymore either.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the stash of money I kept in an old coffee can above the sink and shoved the cash into my purse. I slipped on my leather jacket and started the first day of my life by riding the subway and hitting the mall.

I forgot how fun shopping could be, or how good it felt to try on a pair of jeans that fit perfectly. In an hours span I had an extensive collection of jeans and two pairs of faux leather tights that I simply loved. I grabbed onto one of racks, stretching my leg as I tried to rub the numbness away. I always felt the tingling sensation up my leg, but some days were worse than others. I was learning to live with it, and not let it drag me down. I filtered through the racks of tops, looking for my size when I felt someone staring at me.

I lifted my head and saw dark eyes piercing me, staring right through me. Dark eyes that belonged to Jack. I knew I should’ve looked away but I couldn’t, the way he stared at me, so primal, so lethal, it was mesmerizing—I became a prisoner under his gaze.

He looked out of place, dressed all in black, from his jeans to the Henley that stretched over his muscular chest. His leather jacket was missing making him look a little less intimidating. It gave me the first glimpse of how magnificent his upper body was. He had broad shoulders and a trim waist. His shirt sculpted his pecs, giving me the slightest indication of what I had missed out on seeing last night. His biceps were huge, straining against the fabric of his fitted shirt.

The curtain of the dressing room behind him pushed aside and a woman emerged, running around Jack and throwing herself into his arms. He stumbled back surprised, and smiled. Jack’s smile was amazing. It was like nothing I had ever been on the receiving end of. The few times his lips quirked for me was to provoke me, I had never seen him genuinely smile. He wrapped his arms around her, shopping bags and all, returning the embrace.

She pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek and pulled back, taking some of the bags from his hands. His eyes found mine again and his smile faltered, making it clear I wasn’t deserving of that piece of him. I should have turned around and walked away, sparing myself the beauty that possessively laced her arm through Jack’s. She was stunning, petite, with wavy brown hair mixed with subtle blonde highlights. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and her eyelashes might have been the longest ones I’d ever seen. It was hard not to stare at her. She was beautiful.

Her eyes stared at me curiously before looking back to Jack’s. I quickly diverted my gaze back to the rack.

“Who is that Daddy?”

Daddy?

Oh my God. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, when I thought I’d seen enough of Jack’s shady life, I learned his girlfriend called him Daddy. Disgusting. Weird. Downright wrong.

“Reina,” he growled my name. I lifted my eyes to see the couple had moved closer. Shit.

I placed the hangers I was holding back on the rack and turned around to leave. Big Daddy and his girlfriend stared at me—well, he glared and she stared but her dark eyes were surprisingly warm and inviting.

“Baby girl, this is Reina,” he muttered.

I was going to vomit.

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