Page 36 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
He says quietly, “There’s one voice even more beautiful than the lyric soprano’s, though.”
I can hardly find the words, but somehow, beyond the sudden sense that the world has stopped turning, I do. “Which is?”
His gaze drops to my mouth. A ghost of a smile lifts his lips. “The coloratura. It’s a very rare, agile soprano.”
I’m breathless. I’m weightless. I feel my pulse in every vein in my body. “What’s it like?”
He lifts his eyes to mine, and gazes at me for a long, excruciating moment. “I don’t think I can describe it in color. It’s bigger than that. Deeper. It’s more like . . .”
For a moment, he struggles for words. He turns to look out the windows, lost in thought.
“It’s like a feeling. Like that feeling you get when you’ve been away from home for far too long, and you’re tired and hungry, and just fucking spent, and your car is low on gas and it’s getting dark, and you’re sick of cheap hotels and cheap diners and every song on the radio and every thought in your head, and all you want to do is crawl into your own bed and fall into a dead sleep . . . and then you turn the last corner, and there it is. Home. All your troubles melt away with one big sigh, and you hit the gas hard, because you just can’t stay away one second longer.”
He turns his head, and looks so deeply into my eyes I feel naked.
“It’s like coming home to your own brightly lit house after wandering alone for years in the unwelcome dark.”
Again, he’s moved me almost to tears. I’ve never heard a man speak so eloquently, with so much emotion, such raw honesty. It’s like he’s just let me glimpse at his soul.
I wonder if he can hear my heart beating. I wonder what he would do if I took his face in my hands and kissed him, just went ahead and did it because I know he never will.
I whisper, “A.J.”
Emotion wells in his eyes. His brows furrow. He swallows, hard.
Sensing the sudden shift in mood, Bella lets out a soft, worried bark. Just as quickly as it happened, our peaceful little interlude evaporates with an almost audible poof.
A.J. withdraws. He sets the dog gently down on the mattress, where she curls into a little ball by his pillow and promptly falls asleep. There’s a white T-shirt near the pillow, which A.J. snatches up and yanks over his head, pulling it down to cover his abdomen.
Coldly, he says, “It’s time for you to leave.”
“A.J.—”
“Leave!” he booms, whirling around to glare at me. “How many times do I have to ask you?”
I leap backward with a cry. He advances, forcing me to retreat. I stumble over my feet in my haste, and nearly lose my balance. Gasping, I fling my arms wide, but, once again, A.J. is there to steady me before I fall.
He grips me by my upper arms, staring down at me, his face red. He backs me against the wall next to the door. He demands harshly, “Why did you really come? What is it you really want, Chloe? You looking for a cheap thrill, something you can brag about to your girlfriends? Oh, wait, that’s right—you only fuck if it’s in the context of ‘love.’ Is that what you came looking for, Princess?” he sneers. “Love? Well you’re looking in the wrong fucking place.”
Only a few days ago, this crass, angry speech would have made me livid. But now it’s too late; I’ve peeked behind the golden curtain. I know the kind of man that’s lurking inside, how sad he is behind his mask. How layered and complex behind the façade of swaggering, skirt-chasing sneers.
How lonely.
Looking into his eyes, I say softly, “You don’t fool me.”
His entire body stiffens. His lips part. Into his eyes comes a look of pure torture. He whispers a halting, “W-what?”
“I see you, A.J. I see you. All the way past your big scary exterior. You don’t have to let me in; I can’t make you, and it’s obvious you don’t want to. But I want you to.” My voice breaks. “Think about that while you’re up here all alone with your tragic Italian operas and your only friend, Bella.”
I yank my arms from his grip and turn to leave. In one swift move, he slams the door shut, blocking my way, and pushes me back against it.
He stares at my face, my mouth, my eyes, my hair. He breathes raggedly, his gaze devouring. He trembles with the effort to hold himself back. It’s so clear; what he wants is to crush his mouth against mine, just as badly as I want it.
He fights. He fights himself so hard, it makes my heart bleed.
In a flash of comprehension, I understand. All his strange behavior, all his anger, all the flip-flopping of emotions he seems to go through whenever I’m near.
I reach up and touch his face. “I hurt you, somehow, don’t I? Being near me hurts you.”
