Page 522 of The Tempted

He looks at me, sees the broken, the demons that come out and play whenever they want, his expression doesn’t change.

He’ll take me anyway I am.

Imperfections and all.

And maybe that’s because he’s full of imperfections himself.

Sometimes perfect can be found in imperfections, just like it’s hidden in the word it’s hidden beneath the flaws. It just takes one person to claim those imperfections and deem them perfect. Blackie is a drug addict, he’s a drunk, a self-loathing man looking for a way out. He’s the definition of imperfect. But you know what his perfect is? The hidden beauty of him? It’s his heart.

His heart.

That’s his perfect.

And I want to be the person who claims it.

I had escaped the Pastore women and found my way upstairs to Blackie’s room. I laid on his bed and thought I’d take a nap but, the scent of his cologne on his pillow made it impossible for me to close my eyes and not think of him.

Everything in this room was a reminder of the one night we shared. The one never to be spoken of again. It wasn’t how I thought I’d lose my virginity, not that I gave it much thought. After sixteen my v-card became more of a nuisance then some sacred thing I needed to hang on to. I’m not sure who is to blame if its society or my parents who sheltered me and made me think I was too good to give it up to just anyone. As a young girl I believed I needed to be in love with someone, that the person who took my virginity needed to be some perfect man I would spend the rest of my life with.

Then I became sixteen and found out I was the only fucking virgin left, or at least that’s what it felt like. All my friends had done it, raved about how great it was and how many orgasms they had—then there was me, the president of the Satan’s Knights daughter. I was crazy and still a virgin. It was unheard of.

Yet still I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t just give it up to anyone.

My best friend, Noah knew my dilemma and even offered to rid me of my problem.

And as tempting as the offer was, I turned him down.

I think it was my subconscious guiding me, making me wait because the one who eventually took it was the only person to ever see me. It may not have been a fairytale, and it hurt like hell, but I wouldn’t take it back.

None of it.

Not waiting until I found the perfect man.

Not waiting until I was nearly nineteen years old.

I didn’t let anyone else take it because only one man deserved it.

He might regret it; he might be bothered by it but for me it was perfect. Perfect in an imperfect way. The hidden perfect in a shit load of flaws.

Just like the both of us.

Demons and addictions.

Leather and Lace.

Imperfect yet perfect.

My thoughts are interrupted by the commotion coming from the other side of the door. I heard Riggs shout at my father, then call for help. I quickly threw my legs over the edge of the bed and ran to the door. Pulling it open I peeked my head out as my father stalked towards the stairs. The look in his eye was ferocious and I knew even his medicine wouldn’t help him. The maker has taken residence and the crazed look in his eye was the look of a man trying to balance reality and the poisonous fiction his mind was trying to make him believe.

I understand your pain dad.

I see it.

I live it.

“Stop him,” Riggs hollered as he skidded to a halt at the stairs. “Pipe! Wolf!”

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