Make Me Sin

48

“Of?”

“Everyone I’ve lost.”

My finger stills. I count the petals.

Twelve.

I sit with it, resisting the urge to ask a rapid-fire succession of follow-up questions. He’s lost twelve people. I assume by “lost” he means died, although without asking I have no way to prove that. I know the mysterious Aleksandra, resident of the Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery in Saint Petersburg, is one of the lost. His parents are, too. I remember from Wikipedia that they died years past. But who are the other nine? He didn’t have siblings. Could they be other relatives? Friends?

In the end I decide it doesn’t matter. A.J. has a dozen dead people in his past. I’ve never known anyone who’s died. Not one. Even my two dead grandparents died before I was born.

I try to imagine my parents being dead, and can’t. We don’t always get along, but I love them. And I know they love me. Their absence would leave such a void I can’t imagine it ever being filled. And if Kat or Grace died, I’d be devastated.

An unexpected feeling of tenderness wells up inside me. It’s a warm, achy softness in the center of my chest, and it’s all for the man in whose arms I lie.

I lower my head and gently press my lips against the flower tattoo.

Behind me, A.J.’s chest heaves as he gulps several deep breaths. His arms tighten around my body. He lifts the arm that’s under my head and wraps it around my chest, so I’m cocooned in a pair of big, strong arms. I press the soles of my bare feet against the tops of his, and close my eyes.

Like an onion, layer by layer, my heart peels slowly open.

“When I was growing up, I was always the tallest one in class. Taller than all the boys. Tall and skinny, so I used to get teased. They’d call me giraffe or beanpole or Skeletor. My brother always stuck up for me, even though sometimes he’d get his ass kicked because he was pretty skinny, too. My mother would call the kids’ parents and scream. And my father would call the principal and threaten to sue the entire school district. It wasn’t really that big of a deal to me. I mean, it hurt, but I knew I’d eventually grow into my legs. That’s what Granny Harris would always tell me when she saw me.”

I mimic a posh British accent. “‘When you grow into those legs, luv, you’ll be the most gorgeous creature that ever walked the earth. You’re just going through the same awkward stage everyone goes through. But I know a thoroughbred when I see one!’ She was always saying nice things to me like that. My entire family always had my back. My whole life, I’ve always felt protected.”

A.J. is quiet, listening. I feel the energy thrumming through him, the electricity sparking from his skin.

I gather my courage and whisper, “But I’ve never felt safer than I do right now.”

He turns his face to my shoulder. His cheek burns against my skin. His voice comes low and hoarse. “I can’t be what you need. I’m not the man for you. We both know that.”

That’s not what I want to hear. It’s so far from what I want to hear, I childishly put my hands over my ears and shake my head.

He pries my hands off my ears. “Yes, Chloe.”

“Then what are we doing, A.J.? What is this? Why are you here?”

His answer bursts out of him. “Because I’m f*****g weak! I can’t stay away from you! No matter what I do, you’re there, in my head, smiling that heartbreaker smile! I can’t stay away.” His voice cracks, and it sounds as if he might cry. “And I’m so tired of trying.”

He’s trembling. His entire body is wracked with tremors, little earthquakes that shake me in his arms. He makes a desperate noise, like he’s tearing apart, and I act on pure instinct.

I turn over and wrap my arms around his neck. He buries his face into my shoulder, shuddering, holding on to me as if for dear life.

I whisper, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. It won’t end well. I’ll hurt you.”

“Only if you want to.”

His laugh is ugly, choked. “That’s the thing, Princess. I don’t want to. But I will.”

I smooth the hair off his face, force him to meet my eyes. His are filled with water.

“Okay.”

He stops breathing. His eyes get wide. “What?”

“I said okay. So be it. If all I get is this, right now, tonight, and tomorrow you change your mind and never want to see me again, then okay. I’ll take it. I’ll take the one night.”

He just stares at me. I’ve never seen an expression like his. It’s one of horror and elation and disbelief, all at once.

“Um . . . that was your cue to ravish me, A.J. Let the ravishment begin.”

He rears up on his elbows and pushes me to my back. He gives me his weight, pressing the full length of his hard—and very aroused—body against mine. He hovers above me, his hair falling down on either side of our heads so we’re in a private little world, just our two curtained faces, our breath and beating hearts.

“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 s*x in a context of caring and love’?”

Very softly, I answer, “Nothing.”