Page 78 of Tricked By Jack
“I’m hungry,” I say suddenly, surprising myself with the simple admission. “I barely ate at dinner.”
Jack’s chest rumbles with quiet laughter. “Hard to eat when you’re busy ignoring me.”
I turn to face him, our bodies close in the darkness of the deck. “I was mad at you.”
“And now?” His eyes catch the distant lights, turning them to emerald sparks in the darkness.
“Now I’m hungry,” I repeat, avoiding the question. “Can we stop somewhere?”
“Sure,” he agrees easily. “We have plenty of hotels. One of those could make us—”
I shake my head. “I’m not hungry for fancy food.”
“What are you hungry for?” His tone drops, making the innuendo painfully clear.
“Not that,” I reply quickly. “Something… greasy.”
“Greasy?”
The ferry docks, and Jack leads me to his car, hand at the small of my back. The seat leather is cold against my bare thighs as I slide in, making me hiss. He notices, and his eyes darken as they trail down to where my dress rides up, exposing the bruises already forming on my skin.
As we pull away from the dock, I suggest a known fast-food place. It feels absurdly normal after everything, and I have to bite back a slightly hysterical laugh at the thought of Jack Knight in his perfect tuxedo ordering Big Macs.
“Whatever you want,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that makes me think he’s not just talking about food.
The drive-thru is nearly empty this late, just a few cars ahead of us. The neon sign casts garish yellows and reds across Jack’s face, throwing his sharp features into relief. He looks like a fallen angel in the artificial light, beautiful and terrible.
“What do you want?” he asks as we approach the speaker.
“Double cheeseburger, large fries, and a Coke,” I reply without hesitation. “And maybe some of those little apple pies if they have them. And a vanilla milkshake.”
His lips twitch. “Hungry indeed.”
The teenager at the window does a double-take when he sees Jack in his tuxedo, his eyes widening further when they land on me in my tattered dress mostly hidden beneath his coat. I can only imagine what we look like—disheveled, well-dressed, obviously coming from somewhere formal but looking thoroughly debauched.
“Date night?” the kid asks, trying to sound casual as he hands over our food.
“Something like that,” Jack replies, his tone dismissing further questions as he passes me the warm bags.
The smell of salt and grease fills the car as we drive home, making my stomach growl audibly. Jack’s hand drops to my thigh, fingers tracing idle patterns on my bare skin. “Patience,” he murmurs, and again I have the feeling he’s talking about more than just the food.
As we drive down the last two streets to get to Jack’s house, I can’t help but smile at all the jack-o’-lanterns I see. They’re not as awesome and evil looking as the ones Carolina brought. When we left for the board dinner earlier, I finally got to see their cruel faces.
“Have you seen the Halloween decorations?” I ask as he pulls up to his house and turns the engine off.
“Not yet,” he replies, getting out of the car, taking the food and drinks with him. “But I heard my dear sister-in-law brought some over.”
I hum softly as I get out, ready to show him the evil wonders. But what greets me are not perfectly carved cruelness. Every single pumpkin has been smashed to pieces, and their insides stepped in and kicked around.
“Oh, no.”
Jack chuckles and unlocks the door. “I guess the kids around here don’t approve.”
Pouting, I follow him inside. “Well, I liked them,” I state as I kick off my heels and pad through to the kitchen, setting our food on the counter.
Jack watches from the doorway as I shrug off his coat and start removing the dress. His breath hitches as the fabric falls in a puddle of fabric at my feet, leaving me standing in nothing but my strapless bra. Instead of coming closer, he steps back, giving me space I’m not sure I want.
“You should shower,” he suggests, voice rough.
