Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) by Janine Infante Bosco

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