Make Me Sin (Bad Habit, #2)

by J.T. Geissinger

I wonder if it will gut me as much as it did last time.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see.” What I see is that Kat is living in a fantasy land where A.J. Edwards is a gentleman, and not Lord Voldemort disguised as an enormous, tattooed musician.

When I say enormous, it’s not an exaggeration. He’s built like a mountain. A mountain I’d very much like to rig with dynamite and blow a hole clean through.

😂😂

Almost as much as when Grandpa Walt stuck his dentures in the mouth of the pig my father spit-roasted for the luau-themed birthday party my parents threw for me when I was fourteen. I had nightmares of grinning pork chops for months. To this day, I still can’t eat meat.

Pardon?! 😂☠️😂🤡😭✨😂☠️🤡

Of course he’d spot the brunette. This is a man who drafts women like they’re fantasy football picks.

Nico laughs. It’s his signature husky chuckle, genetically designed to make a woman’s ovaries sit up and beg.

That’s my book husband 🥰🥰😂

You’re going to be famous!” Actually, what I think I’m going to be, is sick. I whisper, “Dude.”

It “figures” that he runs off with a woman he just met to have sex. Probably amazing, animalistic sex. In her convertible. In my next life, I want to come back as a rock star.

To my mother, there’s only one thing worse than working, and that’s working for free.

picking off the pepperoni, because Eric forgot again that I don’t eat meat—all

This is literally not a thing that you forget because it’s not that you don’t eat mushrooms meat is a whole category… It’s a lifestyle that’s something pretty big to forget multiple times… We already know this wasn’t meant to be… But just confirming it lol

He laughs, squeezing me. “I’m here, little bug. Your drab, colorless existence will commence being extremely fabulous right about now.”

Well… I love him already… If there’s not a book about him, we rage

he’s gay.

Well, we were in love with him, but now we can’t be so that’s the worst

My central nervous system decides it’s a circus. Acrobats catapult through my intestines. Clowns on pogo sticks bounce around in my brain. A chimpanzee twirls a baton and rides a unicycle back and forth inside my heart, and a strongman tightens a pair of bulging biceps around my throat, squeezing off all my air. I am paralyzed by the clamor of activity, and stare stupidly at A.J. as if he has just arrived from outer space.

He’s infiltrated my brain like a ninja, and no matter how I try, I can’t evict him.

“Probably. But I think therapy is bullshit. The only person who can fix you is you; paying four hundred dollars an hour to pour your heart out to a stranger is just an emotional jerkoff. In the long run, you’re still stuck with yourself, problems and all. And I don’t put anything in my body that will alter my state of mind. Life’s too short to miss out on anything, even if it’s pain.”

“Good. Question one: Have you ever had sex when you weren’t in the mood?” I open my mouth to say no, but stop. The truth is, it happened just last week. Eric was horny, I was exhausted from a long day at work, and I didn’t want to have an awkward scene or make him feel like I didn’t want him, so I just . . . sort of . . . “I see the answer is yes. And let me tell you this: when you fuck a man just to shut him up or spare his ego, that’s not mutual respect. That’s manipulation. In other words, it’s bullshit.”

“Question two: Have you ever faked an orgasm?” A telling flush creeps up my neck. If that pretty waiter doesn’t get his skinny behind over here right now with my whiskey, I’m going to slap that beauty mark right off his face. “Another yes.” A.J.’s voice grows softer. “And this is an even worse yes, because not only is it a manipulation, it’s a flat-out lie. A lie that maintains your control, so you don’t have to risk being honest by telling a man what really makes you feel good. You get to keep your safe little distance, feeling superior, while the poor stupid fuck who’s trying so hard to do everything right is pumping away in ignorance, thinking he’s with a woman who cares enough about him to show him her heart.”

My face said:😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬

The waiter arrives. He sets down my drink. “Can I get you anything else?” Looking at me, A.J. says, “A side order of crow?”

Yikessssssss

“Oh my God.” He looks up at me. “What?” “You defend them! You not only defend them, you have empathy for them, too! And you think women who aren’t being paid for it should be able to sleep with whoever they want, without being slut-shamed!” “Your point being?” “You’re a feminist!” He snorts. “And you’re drunk.”

“Plenty of ways to mistreat a woman that don’t involve putting your fists on her.”

“Chloe, get your ass on the back of my bike.” The way my body responds to this command is ridiculous. Hormones I never knew I had start screaming gleefully through my veins, tossing confetti and blowing party horns. I bite my lip, hard, and stare at him.

My father will most likely disembowel you.” “She’s not a thing.” Defending the honor of his motorbike, A.J. ignores the threat to his bodily unity. Perhaps he isn’t as fond of his bowels as most people are.

Whoa. He has a mother.

Bless her poor little sweet drunk brain

He used to say that the most beautiful creatures are always the most dangerous.”

“Idi spat, laskovaya moya. Spat.” “Don’t

Go to sleep my dear Knew he was Russian Delicious

Idi spat, laskovaya moya. Ghostly and indistinct, the strange words appear in my mind like a warm breath blown on a cold pane of glass. I don’t know what they mean, but I do know that the tone they were spoken in was anything but angry. The tone was tender. Almost . . . loving.

Now there’s no swagger. There are no cocksure smiles. There’s just a man whose feelings for me are so big they’re taking up most of the space in the room.

😕

Incoherent words of adoration fall from his lips. I groan, arching into him, wanting wanting wanting, and he bites down just hard enough on my nipple that I cry out in pleasure and pain. He freezes. I’m reeling, not sure why he’s stopped. “What?” I pant, blinking. “Eric, what’s wrong?” He withdraws from me as if I’m a giant pile of turds that he’s just had the misfortune to fall face-first into. His expression is horror stricken. It’s also enraged. He hisses, “What did you call me?” It’s my turn to freeze. I try to think, but my mind is blank. “I . . . nothing?” He looks as if he might be sick. “You called me, ‘A.J.’ You called me another man’s name!”

The way my hand FLEW TO MY MOUTH

He snatches his shirt from the floor and yanks it over his head. On his way to the door, he grabs a vase from the niche in the hallway and hurls it across the room. It hits the opposite wall and shatters with a sound like a bomb.

Oh no no no We do not like this at all

“Yes, well now my foot is permanently inserted in that mouth. Eric stormed out of here like he was headed toward a murder spree.” Grace mutters, “Or to put a choke hold on some innocent person of color.” “Grace!” “I’m sorry sweetie, but he’s a white Republican police officer, who grew up in Alabama and still sees his fraternity brothers from college twice a year for hunting trips in the bayou. You know there’s a pointy white hood somewhere in a locked trunk in his garage.”

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

“Chloe Anne Carmichael, there’s hope for you yet.” I throw an arm over my face. “I don’t even want to know what that means.” “It means it’s time for a meeting of the sisterhood of the traveling panties. Lula’s, half an hour. I’ll call Kat.” She hangs up. I know, from past experience, if I call her back she won’t answer. And if I don’t show at the appointed time, they’ll come and get me. I drag myself from the couch to go get dressed.

“And I wouldn’t call a man who destroys your favorite vase in a snit just because you had a tiny tongue slipup a ‘sweetheart.’ I’d call him unbalanced, and then I’d call him a cab and send his sorry ass home.”

Correct

Knowing Nico, there are also half a dozen ninjas posted around as well, lurking under manhole covers or hanging upside down from the rafters like bats. His protectiveness of her is legendary.

🤭🥰🥰🥰

“The worst part . . . was the name I called Eric. Which . . . was . . .” I clear my throat. “A.J.” Kat frowns. “Well, obviously that’s a mistake. You couldn’t have possibly been thinking of A.J., you’re not even attracted to him.” I pull my lips between my teeth and stare at her. Her mouth drops open. “No!” Grace squeals and claps like a ten-year-old who’s just been given a pony at her birthday party. “Yes! Ha-ha! Isn’t it fantastic!”

😂😂😂😂😂🤭✨🤣💫😝

Oh, goodie. I found the entrance to the bat cave. I wonder if Bruce Wayne is at home.

Sweating, shirtless, and barefoot, A.J. dances around the bag, punishing it brutally with his bare fists. I’m transfixed. I’m fused to the floor. I’m hot, and cold, and thrilled, and scared. I think he’s the most glorious and also the most frightening thing I’ve ever seen.

“It’s like coming home to your own brightly lit house after wandering alone for years in the unwelcome dark.”

I reach up and touch his face. “I hurt you, somehow, don’t I? Being near me hurts you.” His lashes flutter. In a low, choked voice that sounds like it rises from the deepest pit of hell, A.J. answers, “Being near you makes me want to die.” Pain pierces my heart. Tears well in my eyes. No one has ever said anything even remotely like that to me before, and it hurts so much I’m breathless. I’m being hollowed out by knives. “Why?” He laughs. Somehow it’s even worse than what he’s just told me. The sound is vicious, heartless, totally without mercy. “Because you have a smile like a sunrise and eyes that could end all wars, and you have no idea, you have no fucking clue, that when you look at me, you’re looking at a dead man.”

“But mostly because you give me hope. You fucking haunt me with hope. And I can’t forgive you for that. Now get the hell out and don’t ever come back!”

My face is twisted in misery. My lip quivers. My eyes are red and wild. The hand holding the blade to my throat shakes so hard I cut myself. A single drop of crimson wells from my skin, slides down five inches of sharpened steel, and drops off the end. It lands in the sink with a soft purple splash. I can do it. I need to do it. I need to do it now, while I still have any control left. She’s been gone ten minutes, but her colors still blind me. Her colors are everywhere, saturating everything, the air itself. She shows up at my door like an apparition, like a demon, promising everything with those goddamn swimming-pool blue eyes, those beautiful, innocent eyes, and she makes me want to kill myself. Worse, she makes me want to fall on my knees and beg for a forgiveness I know will never come, because it isn’t deserved.

But if you’re thinking your relationship would be perfect if only he would do (or not do) this or that, you’re doomed to misery.

“Because when it’s in pain, an animal hides. And, if cornered and feeling threatened, it lashes out. Your friend is doing both.” My lungs constrict, making it harder to breathe. “I know.” “So here’s my piece of big-brotherly advice. Do with it what you will.” I listen hard, my heart beating a little faster. “Wait.” I frown at the phone. “What do you mean, wait? He’s not going to change—” “Not for him to change.” “What then?” “For him to decide what he wants more: his pain, or you.”

Sometimes what looks like perfection is nothing more than a chocolate-dipped turd. And sometimes what you find in the gutter covered in mud that looks like a turd is really a diamond. A big old, chunky diamond that some other fool threw out because she couldn’t see that all it needed was a little TLC to make it shine.”

If my mother knew I was having fantasies about the very thing she warned me about, I’d be cut out of the will.

I tell him the luau pig story about why I don’t eat meat. There’s an even longer pause. “I’m a vegetarian, too.”

Not what I would have guessed. Especially because of that rocket ready to blast a hole out of his pants. Which, my inner slut points out with a wink, hasn’t deflated an inch since he got here.

I like the way he looks at the world, in acceptance and forgiveness, without judgment or fear.

Into the soft darkness, I say, “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me.” “I am. Because I know this isn’t easy for you.” He presses his feverish forehead to my neck. “How do you see me so clearly, when no one else can?” I think about it. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just looking closer than they are.”

😭😭😭😭😭

“You don’t mean it.” “I do.” “You don’t know what you’re saying.” “Yes, I do.” “You’ll change your mind in the morning. You’ll regret it.” “I won’t regret anything.” “What happened to ‘I only have sex in a context of caring and love’?” Very softly, I answer, “Nothing.” He understands without me having to provide more. His eyes devour my face. He whispers, “Goddamn you.” “Just kiss me, A.J. You can hate me all you want tomorrow.” “No.”

My hormones graduate from kindergarten and go straight to college, where they throw a toga party of epic proportions and burn down the dorm.