Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) (7 page)

I pull my bike into my driveway, cutting the engine as I stare up at the house I never thought I’d live in, never wanted to live in, until Lace. She’s got me doing a whole lot of things I never thought I’d do again; laughing, smiling, girl even has me dancing out on the back deck at night. She strung lights along the fence and some nights I find her dancing beneath those twinkling lights. I stare at her for a few moments, basking in my angel’s glow and then her eyes find mine and her smile widens, lighting up my whole fucking world.

She drags me out of the house and forces me to wrap my arms around her and dance. Sometimes we dance to our song, ‘Leather and Lace’, other times she chooses a different song. It depends on her mood and where her head is at. If it’s our song that’s playing, I know she’s struggling and I give her all I’ve got. I try to take her out of the darkness that inebriates her, like she’s pulled me from mine, time and time again.

I am a recovering addict, someone who used to think the only thing he had left in this world was poison. I used drugs and alcohol as a crutch to get me through, to numb me from the pain and bring me to the state of oblivion I craved. Lacey stormed into the Satan’s Knight’s clubhouse one night, trying to escape her own demons, and the girl I had protected since she was fifteen, became my sole purpose for breathing.

One night.

That’s all it took for her to get underneath my skin.

She reminded me of the man I was before my first wife, Christine, died. The man before the corruption, the man before the bottle of Johnny Walker, and a syringe full of heroin. She showed me I could still be the man I used to be, that he was still alive buried beneath the leather. It was because of Lacey I realized how badly I wanted to be that guy again and how much I didn’t want to quit life.

As much as I’d like to say Lacey is the reason I stay clean—she’s not. Sure, having her in my life, being the man she loves, it’s all part of the equation but it’s not everything. It shouldn’t be either. I stay clean for myself because I want to be the man who keeps her. I want to be the man who gets to write her story with her. I want to be better because I am more than a needle and a bottle of booze. I stay clean because I want to live.

I’m an addict but I’ve found a new addiction, one that will bring me to my knees and one that will keep me breathing—I’m addicted to Lacey’s smile.

That smile is the only addiction worth having.

Her happiness is the only high I crave.

I climb the front stoop, hoping when I open the door it’s that smile that greets me. I fit my key into the door and pause as I hear the music blasting through the house, a grin plays across my face.

I’ve gotten used to smiling.

Something I hadn’t done in years.

It’s the little things we take for granted. The little things that we forget make life worth living.

I open the door, kick it closed with the heel of my boot and follow the sound of the music. It’s not our song that she’s playing, which means Lacey’s maker is silent today.

Her maker is her mind.

Some people believe God is their maker; that He controls Heaven and Earth, but for my Lace, her maker is her mind. Lacey is bipolar and her mind controls her. While I have a sponsor who talks me off the ledge, Lace has a bottle of Lithium.

I know what you’re thinking—
they’re fucked.

But we’re not.

Each day we wake to a blank page, we pick up the pieces of our shattered souls and write our story. A story that portrays hope and the struggles of life.

I freeze in my tracks as I reach the kitchen and spot her dancing to the beat of the music, singing along to a tempo of her own. Girl can’t sing for shit but she can move.

Goddamn can she move.

Prancing around in nothing but one of my black t-shirts—fanning, she was fanning the charred something or other on top of the stove—she’s the most beautiful sight a man like me ever saw.

The girl can’t cook either but that doesn’t stop her from trying. I think that’s what I love most about her.
No
and
can’t
are two words that are not part of her vocabulary. It’s the resilience rooted deep in her veins that makes her who she is.

Lacey doesn’t need a hero.

She’s her own goddamn hero.

And if there is something she wants to conquer, step the fuck out of her way because she will leave her footprints on your back as she walks right over you to get what she wants.

It’s fucking incredible to watch.

Sneaking up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and drag her body against mine, causing her to squeal happily.

“You’re home,” she says, turning in my arms as she wraps them around my neck.

“I’m home,” I murmur, bending my head to take her mouth. My lips skim hers back and forth before taking her lower lip between mine. Slowly, I coax her mouth open, slide my tongue over hers, getting high off her taste.

“Goddamn, girl, you make me never want to leave,” I growl against her mouth, pulling back slightly to cup her face with my hands.

I only let you leave because you promised you’d always come back,” she whispers, reminding me of the vow I made to her when I was released from prison.

I’ll always come back for you, girl.

I press another kiss to her lips before glancing over her shoulder, at what I assume is supposed to be dinner.

“You cooked.” I clear my throat, raising an eyebrow. “New recipe?”

“Yeah, but it’s the last time I use that website for anything. I swear I followed the directions perfectly.” She turns, frowning at the blackened meal.

What’s it supposed to be?”

She laughs before sinking her teeth into her lower lip and lifting her eyes.

“If I said blackened chicken would you believe me?”

Slapping her ass playfully, I smirk, unable to stop myself from squeezing he lace covered cheek.

“Babe, you know I love the way you look in my shirts but I’m running out of clothes,” I say, fingering the hem of my shirt before fisting the back of it. I pull her against my chest and grab a hold of her hips, pressing that sweet ass of hers against my strained cock.

“You love it,” she accuses.

I do,” I admit, brushing her hair over her shoulder and pressing my mouth to her neck. “But I can’t take you to dinner dressed in my shirt,” I add, reluctantly releasing her with a groan. “Go get dressed. I’ll take you to that Asian place in the mall you like.”

“But what about the blackened chicken?” She teases, throwing me a wink.

“Can’t even feed that shit to the hungry, Lace,” I say. “Go get dressed while I clean the latest disaster to strike the aqua kitchen.”

“One day I will make something that knocks your socks off and you will beg me to cook,” she says pointedly as she struts out of the kitchen.

I didn’t doubt it.

I know better than to underestimate her.

It took me a good half hour to clean the kitchen. I chucked the bird into the pail and squirted half a bottle of dish soap in the charred pan and let it soak. Lacey bounded down the stairs fifteen minutes later, dressed in clothes that hugged the body I worshipped and we took to my bike. She wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her body against my back as we hit the road.

She might be Jack Parrish’s daughter but the girl never took a ride on a bike until she took a gamble on me. She loves the road, almost as much as I do, and jumps at any chance to go for a ride.

When we arrive at the restaurant, we are quickly seated and don’t bother looking at the menu, ordering our usual. We share our day with one another. I tell her about the NA meeting I attended and she hangs onto my every word, finding it fascinating as any student majoring in social work would. She’s got a year or so left before she graduates college and that’s when I plan on putting a ring on her finger.

After dinner, I take her into the mall and we walk in circles because I didn’t want to let her in on where I planned on taking her. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve actually shopped in the mall so I had no fucking idea where Victoria’s Secret was located. After we walked the entire mall, I finally found the fucking place and dragged her inside.

“What’re we doing here?”

“What do you think we’re doing here, girl,” I reply, wrapping one arm around her, sliding my hand into the back pocket of her jeans as we walk side by side into the store.

“Is that your plan for tonight? A live Victoria’s Secret fashion show?” She asks, lifting up a black lace thong and twirling it around her finger.

I lean into her, breathe in the scent I’ve come to love—vanilla and honeysuckle.

“Who said I’m waiting for tonight?” I whisper huskily against her ear.

On top of everything else that Lacey has given me she’s given me something I hold sacred—her body. I’m the only man who’s been inside her, the man that helps her explore her sexuality. I’ve introduced her to pleasure and pain, showed her how the two become one. She’s discovered what she likes, what gets her off, and is very inquisitive to try new things in-between the sheets. Every new experience for her is a rewrite for me—it’s the fucking icing on the cake.

She turns her head, brushing her lips against mine before she whispers.

“I like where you’re going with this.”

She turns around, eyes on mine as she walks backward and lifts her hand holding the thong, crushing it in her fist, crooking her finger with her other hand, beckoning me to follow her.

Damn, girl.

Ignoring the eyes of the associates following us around the store, Lacey picks things out, filling my arms with lingerie as she sifts through the tables finding her sizes.

Told you we’d turn heads, girl.

“Can I start you off in a fitting room?”

I raise an eyebrow at the woman questioning me, forcing a blush out of her.

“I mean—”

“That would be great,” Lacey interrupts, smiling wide at her as she shuffles the lingerie from my arms to the associate’s.

“Are you looking for something specific?”

Lacey turns, her eyes gleaming mischievously, as she gives me a smile.

“I’m looking to bring this big brute to his knees,” she says, turning back to the associate. “You got something that might do the trick?”

I bite the inside of my cheek as my eyes burn into her.

You want me on my knees, girl, you got it.

“I think we can find something,” said the associate responds, her face redder than a fucking apple.

“I don’t know, he’s a tough nut to crack,” Lacey teases.

Brazen, girl.

“Let’s get you into a fitting room and take your measurements. I think I have something perfect for you,” the associate suggests.

“Go on girl, give it your best shot,” I encourage, tipping my chin for Lacey to follow the associate.

Lacey spins around on her heel, sashaying her hips as she makes her way toward the dressing room, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she has my attention.

You got me, girl.

I wink at her, crossing my arms against my chest, the worn leather of my jacket straining against my biceps. She disappears into the dressing room with the sales lady as I walk around the store picking out things I want to see on Lacey. The sales person emerges, walking over to a rack and grabbing a few more things for my girl. I glance down at the clothes in my hand and decide it’s time for the sales lady to step out of the dressing room and for me to step in.

“Excuse me,” I call, lifting my full arms. “Can you find her sizes in these too?”

“Sure just let me get this to her and I’ll grab those from you,” she says, hurrying back to the fitting room. I sigh, glancing around at the people staring at me.

Yeah, I was a sight.

Cloaked in leather, covered in tattoos, with an arm full of lace.

Story of my life.

The sales lady returns a moment later.

“Let me take that from you.” She holds out her arms and takes the Lace from mine. “You want
all
of this?”

“Everything,” I confirm. “And whatever else you think she might like,” I add, striding toward the dressing room. She stares after me, her mouth agape causing me to chuckle as I rap my knuckles against the fitting room door.

“I don’t think this fits,” Lacey says, not knowing that it was me she was talking to and not her lingerie fairy godmother.

“Open the door, Lace,” I demand, bracing my arms over the frame. “C’mon girl,” I probe.

She was quiet for a moment before she replied.

“It’s unlocked.”

Dropping my hand to the door knob, I glance over my shoulder. Fuck it, I turn the knob and push my way inside. I kick closed the door and twist the lock before I turn around and lay eyes on the sexiest woman I’ve ever had.

Legs for days.

Wearing a white, lace thong, paired with a garter belt clipped to sheer thigh-high stockings, with matching lace trim, she was a fucking dream. The bra she wore lifted her already perky tits and pushed them over the sheer material so they appeared to be spilling from the cups. I was a lucky man.

“Girl,” I hiss, my eyes meeting hers in the mirror.

“So, you think it’s time I trade in your t-shirts and parade around the house in this kind of get-up?” She laughs, obviously nervous as she bites her lip.

I didn’t answer her with words.

Gave her my eyes and let them answer for me.

Yes.

Fuck yes.

“Turn around,” I order, taking a step closer, swallowing up the space between us.

“Blackie,” she whispers, turning around and locking her eyes with mine.

“You wanted me on my knees, girl,” I growl, dropping on one knee. I press my palms against her thighs, forcing them apart before dropping my other knee down on the floor. “Got me right where you want, right where I belong.”

I brush my hair away from my face before palming her pussy over the lace and inching my index finger beneath the material.

“What if she comes back?”

“Then she’ll know she did her job properly,” I tell her, shoving the lace away from her pussy and reaching behind her with my free hand. Squeezing her ass, I bring her sweet cunt to my mouth and run my tongue down her center.