Page 131 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
And I blubber like a baby, even though not three minutes before I promised myself I’d be strong.
I take the ring from the box and slide it on my trembling finger. Then I lower the metal bar on the side of the bed and carefully crawl up next to him, ignoring the protests of the nurse. I kiss his neck and his face, crying and laughing, trying to be gentle as I hug him and rest my head on his chest.
Then I say the only thing that’s left to be said:
“Yes.”
Epilogue
For the hundredth time today, I check my phone to see if I’ve gotten any new texts from Trina.
It’s a sunny, beautiful Sunday, five months after A.J.’s surgery. I’m supposed to be relaxing, but I can’t because this particular sunny, beautiful Sunday is Valentine’s Day . . . Fleuret’s busiest day of the year.
And I’m at a barbeque at Nico and Kat’s house.
I’m also as big as a whale. The bean—who has grown to the size of a watermelon on steroids—is due any time. Hence my being banned from the shop by A.J., who flatly told me a month ago I wasn’t standing on my feet for twelve hours a day any longer. (If he could see the way my ankles were swelling he’d have banned me from the shop way sooner, but being blind does have its upside: no disturbing visuals of your pregnant fiancée’s bloated body parts.)
A warm kiss on the back of my neck distracts me from my cell phone. I tilt my head back and see A.J. leaning over me, smiling. The sun glints gold and copper in his hair. As it always does when I look at him, my heart skips and stutters before settling down into a normal beat.
“You’re getting to be a ninja, sweetie,” I grumble. “I can never hear you sneaking up on me!”
He chuckles. “Let me guess: you’re out here checking your phone.”
I guiltily tuck my phone under my arm. “I’m just enjoying the sunshine!”
His chuckle turns to a laugh. “Lying to a blind man? That’s fucked up, angel.”
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.”
You’d think he’s kidding, but he’s not. He loves hearing every detail about the pregnancy, no matter how raw.
“You’re gross.”
He reaches for my hand. I give it to him, and he raises it to his lips and kisses it. “I’m in love,” he says softly. “Every little thing you do is magic.”
Though I get misty-eyed at that, I still have to snort. “No fair quoting eighties song lyrics, superstar. You forget I’m the girl who knows every word to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’”
“That’s from the seventies,” he shoots back with a smirk.
“Shut up.”
He playfully bites one of my fingers. “Make me.”
“Ha! Be careful what you wish for.”
His smile fades. He opens my hand and presses my palm against his cheek. “You’re all I wish for,” he says in a husky voice, and my breath catches. Suddenly I can’t wait to go home and get him alone.
Always, always this heat between us, this sweet, crackling urgency. I can hardly believe it’s real.
I lean over and press a kiss to his lips. I whisper, “And you’re everything I need.”
He deadpans, “Except maybe some charcoal underwear. How many of Nico’s extra spicy Tennessee ribs did you eat, babe? Because I’m totally getting that gas thing you were talking about—”
Cursing, I smack him on his muscular bicep. He falls apart laughing, then grabs me, hauls me onto his lap, and nuzzles his face into my neck.
“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” I say with mock sternness.
