Make Me Sin (Bad Habit, #2)

by J.T. Geissinger

I’ve been up all night, I’m sore as hell, and I look like I lost a twelve-round heavyweight fight. But I didn’t; I won.

“This is very impressive. You must work out with really heavy weights.” “Baby, you’re the lightest weight I’ve ever carried.”

He breathes, “Sweet angel, I’ve wanted you since the first time I heard you sing.” That stops me dead. “Um . . . what?” He wraps his arms around me, and rests his forehead on my shoulder. His heart thumps a steady beat against my breasts. “I heard you singing to yourself one day. Nine months ago, to be exact. The day Nico and I first came into your shop to get flowers for Kat. I’ll never forget it, no matter how long I live.”

I thought I would die right there, next to the rack of Hallmark cards, from sheer bliss.”

Looking into my eyes, he says softly, “Let me love you, Chloe. Let me love you like you need to be loved. It won’t be for forever, but it will be the best thing either one of us has ever had. I know it. It’ll be enough to last us the rest of our lives.”

There are moments that brand you. There are moments that alter you, that you recognize, even as they’re happening, will leave you different afterward than you were before. It’s these life-changing moments that make you who you are, more so than the family you were born into or all the experiences you had leading up to them. For better or for worse, once you’ve lived through such a moment, you can never go back.

“Don’t get all mushy on me now, rock star, you’ve got a bad reputation to uphold. How are we going to keep convincing everyone you’re such a grouchy dick if you go around with that face from now on?” I can barely speak, such is my burning, agonizing hope. “Which face is that?” She leans in and kisses me softly on the mouth. “Your madly-in-love, glowingly happy, finally-sprung-from-hell face.” She purses her lips and looks at the top of my head. “We’ll have to do something about that black cloud that’s missing, too. Everyone’s going to wonder what’s happened to that.” I grab her, roll her onto her back, and stare down at her. Hope and love and anguish and pain and a million different emotions bang around the inside of my chest, bursting inside my skull. “What are you saying? What are you telling me? Just say it!” I’m panting and shaking. My face is hot. My throat is tight. I might be having a heart attack.

We make love again. A.J. handles me like I’m made of the most fragile porcelain: breakable, irreplaceable, and rare. All his walls have crumbled, all his defenses are stripped bare. He’s totally open to me, vulnerable and emotional, and the feelings I see in his eyes as he gently thrusts into me are blowing my mind. He looks at me like I’m a miracle. Like I’m his savior. But it’s really he who’s saved me. Every breath I’ve ever taken has been leading me to this.

The most interesting thing I learned in church was how to sit still for long periods of time without falling asleep.

You told me you loved me. Love,” he corrects himself, “present tense. I’m not letting you go, Chloe. You belong to me, and I won’t spend another day without you. I can’t live without you, don’t you see? Without you I might as well be dead.” I burst into sobs and start to ugly cry so hard A.J. laughs. “It’s not funny, you jerk!” He kisses me all over my wet, red face, holding me tight, murmuring how much he loves me, how much he needs me, how he’ll never, ever let me go. Mondays are officially my new favorite day of the week.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕💛💛💛💕💫✨💫‼️💫✨💕😭😭😭😭

“And now I’m ending the call so I can pour myself a large glass of water.” “Water? That’s not like you.” “Of course I like water. Especially when it’s frozen into little cubes and completely surrounded by vodka. Good-bye.” She hangs up on me, leaving me grinning at the phone. I love my friends.

I’ve given up wearing a bra at home, because A.J. takes it off as soon as I walk in the door anyway.

😂😂

“Forever,” says my angel. With that one word, she not only breaks my heart, she breaks what’s left of my miserable, selfish soul.

Noooooo stop ittttt

“Vy byli pravy. Ya lyublyu yeye.” As if she’s kicked me in the stomach, all the wind is knocked from my lungs. This is no ordinary hooker. This hooker speaks Russian.

I’m scared Lololol Okay okay She said You were right. I love her.

I’ve never felt jealousy like this before. Not ever. It’s like I swallowed a bowl of razors.

You will be fineeeeee

“For a long time, she was the only friend I had.” That hurts and it also makes me incredibly sad for him. “Does she know about you? About your past?” He shakes his head. “You’re the only one I’ve ever told that story to. She’s not stupid; she knows I’m not from Vegas. But she never cared. She never asked anything of me. Before you, with her was the only place I felt safe.” Oh God, my heart. I don’t know how much more of this it can take. In a shaking voice, I say, “I can’t compete with that, A.J.” “You don’t have to, baby. There’s no competition; all of me belongs to you. It has from the very beginning.”

As he shudders and moans, I rest my cheek against the cool tile, close my eyes, and pray that’s the last we’ve seen of the woman who used to be A.J.’s only friend. Unfortunately, it won’t be. And if I thought I knew what pain was before, the two of them will soon give me an education in pain that will last me a lifetime.

I just SHOOK this iPad and screamed in DISTRESS

With a hint of heat in his voice, Brody says to Grace, “I like all beautiful things.” Grace ignores his obvious come-on and turns away. I guess musicians aren’t her style . . . though I actually thought all men with working genitals were her style.

😂🤭

Three hours later, I stare down at the white plastic stick in my hand, laughing. I laugh and laugh and laugh, until eventually I start to cry. Sobbing, I look up at my bathroom ceiling. “God, I’d just like you to know that I officially hate your guts. And don’t expect to hear from me ever again.” I throw the stick in the trashcan and go into the living room to call my mother. She’s always wanted to be a grandma.

Misery: noun, plural miseries. 1. wretchedness of condition or circumstances. 2. distress or suffering caused by need, privation, or poverty. 3. great mental or emotional distress; extreme unhappiness. 4. a cause or source of distress. “Yep,” I say, staring at the dictionary app on my cell phone, “that’s just about covers it.”

“But I’m driving. And if this is the last time I’m getting behind the wheel of a car, you ladies might want to hold on to your hats. I might not be minding all the speed limits. Or any of them.” “Suits me,” says my mother breezily. “Thomas drives like an old woman; it’ll be a nice change to go fast.”

😭😂💛

I break my self-imposed ban on talking to God, and start to pray.

My lips twist. “What’s effed up is this heartburn. Seriously, it feels like I swallowed a habanero pepper. And my back is killing me. To top it off, I’m totally gassy today. You might want to go upwind. Ugh.” Moving carefully, A.J. lowers himself to the chair beside me, and then turns his head and smiles brilliantly, bathing me in a warmth even hotter than the sun. “Don’t stop, baby, I love it when you talk dirty. Seriously, lay it on me—constipation? Spider veins? Stretch marks? Give it your best shot, all that shit gets me so worked up I might just throw you down on the grass and have my way with you right now.”

Brooke has been number three. I adore you.

Wail* not 🐳

I can definitely vouch for how acute his other senses have become, especially his nose. I swear he can smell when I’m horny. I don’t even have to say a word. From all the way across the house he’ll make a beeline toward me, and then we’re in bed. Silver linings, people. You either focus on the bad, or the good. I’ve chosen to focus on the good. It’s not hard; there’s a lot of it.