Make Me Sin Read Free

run over and stock up so your little ol’ mangina doesn’t get chilly under those jeans, A.J.”
    “Nah,” says A.J., giving it right back, “I never wear underwear. Too restrictive. My mangina’s huge, brother. It needs room to breathe.”
    A new piece of information about A.J. Edwards I could have gone my entire life without knowing: he goes commando. I’m not allowing myself to think about the other part. The “huge” part. Though judging by the size of his boots . . .
    Without turning around, or otherwise acknowledging his existence, I say to Nico and Kat, “Seriously, thank you . And now I’m not doing the flowers for cost; I’m doing them for free.”
    Kat waves her hand dismissively. “Out of the question. And you’re not doing them for cost, either. We already talked about that, dummy.”
    “But it’s my wedding present to you guys—”
    “Just having you do the flowers is enough of a present—”
    “Kat, there’s no way I’m making money off you—”
    “Why the hell not? If we weren’t using you, we’d have to pay some other florist! I’d rather give you the money.”
    “And I’d rather be Beyoncé, but that’s not happening, either.”
    “Chloe—”
    “Kat—”
    “Shut up, girls,” says Nico with affection, effectively ending the argument.
    Except it doesn’t, because I’ll never send them a bill. Even if Kat wasn’t my best friend, the kind of publicity she and Nico are giving me is priceless.
    A.J. has moved to my right side and is looking down at the portfolios of my work with an expression I interpret as nausea. He glances up and finds me looking at him. His amber eyes—eyes that could actually be beautiful if they weren’t so cold—narrow. He says flatly, “Yeah. Shut up.”
    “A.J.,” Nico warns, but I hold up a hand.
    Without looking away from A.J., I say to Nico and Kat, “Could you guys excuse us for a second?”
    There’s a long, uncomfortable silence. I refuse to break eye contact with A.J. From beneath the collar of his black T-shirt, a flush creeps up his neck.
    Fine. Be angry. I’ve had enough.
    “We’ll be in your office.” Kat takes Nico’s hand, and then A.J. and I are alone.
    He pulls himself up to his full height, folds his arms across his chest, and looks down his nose at me. Which means I have to look up —at five foot ten, this is an unusual experience for me. And today I’m in low heels, so my height is easily over six feet . . . and I’m still looking up. Way up.
    I can never wear heels around Eric. I banish that thought as quickly as it arrives.
    I demand, “What’s your problem with me?”
    I’ll give him this: the guy has an amazing poker face. There’s not a single telling change in his expression. He doesn’t even blink.
    He also doesn’t answer.
    I scowl at him. “Fine. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. But Kat and Nico matter. And their wedding matters. And whatever the reason is that you hate me so much—not that I think I’ve done anything to deserve it, but whatever—I won’t let you ruin what’s supposed to be the happiest time in their lives by being so . . . so . . .”
    “Mean?” he supplies with a smirk, seeming almost satisfied.
    “Selfish,” I correct with quiet vehemence.
    Now he blinks. Then his brows lower. A crackle of something passes between us, bright as danger.
    “Selfish,” he repeats. His gaze, electrifying, flicks over me. He takes a step forward, staring into my eyes. This close I can see the flecks of brown and green in his gold irises. His lashes are impossibly long, golden brown and thick. He leans in and softly says, “Princess, you have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”
    My heart pounds wildly. He’s big, and probably dangerous—did I read somewhere he’d spent time in prison for assault?—but I’m not afraid of him. What I’m feeling isn’t as clear-cut as fear. I have to take a slow, steadying breath before I speak. “The wedding is only a few months