Page 101 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
“You belong to me.” He sounds like an animal, snarling and wild, his voice almost unrecognizably rough.
Knowing that I’ve affected him as much as he’s affected me sends a thrill straight through my body.
“Forever,” I whisper. My eyes slide shut. My head falls back. I come.
Within seconds, he follows with a roar, pulling out abruptly before he comes inside me. He collapses on top of me, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me so hard I forget everything else. There is only me and A.J., joined in perfect harmony.
Joined forever.
“Forever,” says my angel.
With that one word, she not only breaks my heart, she breaks what’s left of my miserable, selfish soul.
The Memorial Day party at Nico and Kat’s ultramodern compound in the Hollywood Hills is less of a party, and more of a wild, celebrity-studded, booze-soaked bacchanal.
Hundreds of people are here—many of whom I recognize from film or television—splashing in the pool, lounging on sleek deck chairs, dancing to the DJ who’s set up on a raised platform by the pool house across the lawn. It’s a catered affair, with black-tie waiters hoisting trays of hors d’oeuvres above the heads of laughing, half-drunk guests. The whole thing is a scene right out of Entourage. In fact, I think I see Adrian Grenier, the lead from the show, across the yard doing body shots from the cleavage of a bikini-clad girl.
We’ve only just arrived, but I can tell A.J. wishes he were anywhere but here. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Kat begged me to come because we haven’t seen each other in weeks, but now I’m wondering if I’ll be able to really spend time with her at all. This crowd is insane; she must be crazy busy playing the good hostess.
We make our way through the crowd. It seems everyone recognizes A.J. He’s clapped on the back and nodded at, he shakes hands with several people but doesn’t stop to talk. The women who ogle him he ignores completely, making me feel all sorts of smug. We take up a spot next to a white Lucite bar in one corner of the yard, and I order a chardonnay from the bartender.
Because it’s mandated by law, the weather is a perfect seventy-two degrees. The view from the backyard is spectacular; I see all the way from Malibu to downtown. The ocean is a shimmering strip of navy in the distance.
“You okay?” I only ask because A.J.’s face is about as warm as a slab of granite.
“Parties,” he says, gazing around the scene.
I take that to mean he doesn’t like them, because he doesn’t add more. I’m about to tell him we can go as soon as I see Kat, but then I spot Grace across the pool, waving madly at me.
“Grace!” Excited, I wave back, motioning for her to come over.
Her martini held high over her head, she shoulders her way through the crowd. When she gets tired of being jostled and spilling vodka down her arm, she throws her head back and downs t
he drink, and then sets the glass on the tray of a passing waiter. Then she’s standing in front of us, flaming red hair and a tight white dress and a pair of leopard print Louboutins that add six inches to her already statuesque frame. She looks like an Amazonian goddess. Several people nearby are gawking at her, girls included.
Almost half of her life is missing from her memory, and yet she’s stronger and more self-assured than anyone I know.
She pulls me into a hug, enveloping me in the scent of vodka and Clive Christian, her signature perfume.
“You look great,” she murmurs into my ear. “I can’t even see the scar.”
I had the stitches in my cheek out last week. The plastic surgeon I went to did a little laser resurfacing afterward. The skin is still pink, but I’ve covered it with a special redness-reducing foundation and powder Kat recommended. I’m almost as good as new.
Almost. Every time I see a cop car now, I break out in a cold sweat.
“Thanks, Gracie. I missed you.”
She pulls back, holds me at arms’ length, and examines me. She smiles broadly. I can tell what she’s thinking: Someone’s finally been properly fucked. I grin back at her, nodding.
“A.J.,” Grace says, turning her warm gray eyes to him. “Thank you.”
He smiles at her, befuddled but interested. “For what?”
Grace gives me a little shake. “For this.”
Then she shocks the hell out of both of us by throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a big kiss on the cheek. At the end of it, we’re all laughing.
It feels so good.
