Page 86 of Sin with Me

I want to meet his mom. I wonder what she’s like, if she’s stern and cold like him or warm like Carlos. I almost ask about her, ask where she is, what she does. But I don’t. There’s a reason she’s never around, and if it’s anything like the reason my dad is invisible—or why my grandma isn’t here—it’s not something Cal will want to talk about.

He’s still looking at me. Okay, maybe getting his attention was a bad idea. Please, God, don’t let us die.

He lifts his chin and inhales a long breath through his nose then out through his mouth as if he’s meditating. Then he turns his eyes back to the road, ignoring me.

I huff a laugh, more to myself than for him. “I also know you have a hard time accepting a compliment.”

“Were you expecting a thank you?”

“Well, that’s the usual response,” I answer, irritated that somehow, even after tonight, we’re right back where we started.

“We’re here.” Cal shifts the Rover into park and stares at my front door.

That certainly went south fast. I’m quickly learning that tender moments with him are few and far between.

He swallows hard then looks over at me just as I reach for the door handle. “I’m sorry.” His jaw clenches as if those were difficult words to say. I’m sure they were. I doubt he says them often. “Thank you,” he adds.

I don’t look at him. “Can you just unlock the car door, please?”

“Goddammit, Makenna,” he spits, sending ice through my bloodstream. I sit completely still and focus on the dashboard in front of me. “You once told me when you’re with me, I make you feel things. Things you shouldn’t.” He turns to face me just as I look over at him. His eyes are sad. Confused. There’s a war going on behind them, but I can’t help him win if he won’t let me in. “You do the same thing to me.”

If he feels half of the things I feel when we’re together, then he must feel like he’s split in two. I know I do.

I reach across the console and place a hand on his face, cautious and slow, much like someone would touch a wild animal for the first time. As soon as my hand is on him, and I feel him relax under my touch, I crave more. My hand slides behind his neck and up into his hair. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the seat as I play with the locks tangled up in my fingertips.

“Come inside with me,” I say, my voice husky and low.

He opens his eyes and lifts his head. “Now isn’t a good time.”

I move my hand from his hair to his crotch, gently stroking the length of his erection. “It seems like a good time to me.”

He places his hand on top of mine, stopping my movement. “I said, maybe another time.”

“Have it your way, then.” I lean over him and unlock my door, then climb out of his SUV as though he hadn’t just crushed my heart—and my confidence—in his fist.

I’m punching the security code into my deadbolt when the closing of a car door grabs my attention. I listen to the mechanical gears turn and shift, then the lock clicks open, but I wait to go inside.

Seconds later, his fingertips are trailing along my bare back, near my ribs, right above the tattoo. He leans forward, his still hard body pressed firmly against mine. He takes my hands and holds them over my head and my stomach drops.

“I’m going to fuck you, Makenna. That’s a promise,” he hisses into my ear. His breath on my neck makes me quiver. “But it won’t be in some cramped-up office in the back of a restaurant. Or tucked away in a closet during a crowded party with a high-class guest list. It won’t be because I’m angry and you’re upset. It won’t be until you’re ready. And you sure as hell aren’t ready as long as you’re still wearing this,” he says as his thumb runs across the ring on my finger.

My head falls forward, my forehead leaning against the door at the realization of what just happened. I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to tell him it’s just a ring, it doesn’t mean anything. But the words don’t come out. I probably wouldn’t mean them even if I said them. So, I just stand here, silent and broken, while he gets back in his SUV and drives away.

The following day, a delivery service drops off the painting I was so avidly admiring at the benefit. The card is simple, to the point, and a little mysterious. Just like the man who wrote it.

“Some of the best gifts in life are second chances.”

I can only hope he’s talking about giving me another chance get to know him better. I’m completely embarrassed about throwing myself at him the way I did. I’m sure he gets that all the time, and I wanted to be different from those women. There is so much hidden behind those eyes, so much I would give anything to discover.

Please, Callisto. Please give me a second chance.

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