Taylor

He kissed me back but not with the same fierce intent he normally did. It was like he was holding back. I pulled away from him, feeling vulnerable and confused at his actions.

"What's wrong?" he asked when I shifted away from him slightly.

"Don't you want me?" I blurted out, feeling embarrassed at the rejection.

He pressed his lips together for a moment. That little hope that it had been my imagination vanished. There was something wrong.

"I'm not sure if this is really what you need right now," he said. His eyes held mine as I clasped my hands together. "You were attacked tonight. You've been through so much, it has been an emotional roller coaster."

I didn't need to be reminded of what had happened. Every time I thought about it I wanted to be sick. The way his body had pressed up against mine had made me feel dirty. I understood why he was so hesitant to let things go further, but he didn't understand why I needed this so much.

"When he attacked me, he pushed his body...against mine," I tried to put my need into words. "I need you...to wipe that memory from my mind."

"I don't think that's going to help you deal," he told me.

"Please."

He studied me for a few silent moments.

"Come here," he said softly in the darkness.

I moved closer and he leaned forward. His lips touched mine gently. His kisses were usually fierce and demanding, leading to physical gratification, but this was different. He moved his lips against mine softly as he cupped my face and pulled me closer. Maybe it was because he wanted to be careful with me because of the attack. I ran my tongue lightly over his bottom lip and against his lip ring. I heard a sharp intake of breath as he opened his mouth and touched his tongue to mine.

A flutter of excitement ignited in me when his tongue swept into my mouth. I covered his hands cradling my face and closed my eyes as I felt the sensation of need sweep through me. Moments of the attack flitted through my mind, but I pushed them back. I was determined to erase the violating memories with this new memory of what Sin was doing to me. As if sensing my inner turmoil, he pulled his lips from mine and gently pushed me down onto the bed. I bit my lip as I felt my nervousness increase as I felt his body cover mine. For a moment I stiffened as the memory of my attacker pressing his body against mine came back through my mind.

"It's okay, it's me," Sin murmured softly as he held himself up with his hands on either side of me. I relaxed and opened my legs and he settled between them as he kissed me again.

He kissed me thoroughly and trailed kisses down my jaw. I was breathing hard by the time he lifted himself off me. I lifted my hips as he tugged my pajama shorts off along with my panties. In the darkness, he tugged off his clothes. He got a foil packet out of the drawer beside his bed and put the protection on. The bed dipped as he got onto the bed and helped me remove my top. He kissed me as he pressed his naked body against mine.

Usually he would ask me what I needed and sometimes he'd talk dirty, but this time he was quiet as he began to kiss his way down my body. There was a tenderness in his kisses that had never been there before. He moved above me and I wrapped my legs around his waist as I felt a need to have him inside me. His lips pressed against mine as he gripped my hips and thrust inside me with one stroke. I hitched my breath at the fullness I felt. He began to move in and out of me with a steady rhythm and I held onto his shoulders as I felt my orgasm begin to build.

Sweat mingled as our bodies moved together toward the release we both craved. With soft touches and kisses, he erased the horrible memories. There were no more dark memories; all that mattered was the tattooed boy who made me spin out of control.

I shattered into a million pieces and moments later he pushed inside me one last time as he came. Breathing hard and sweating, he leaned his forehead against mine for a moment and I hugged his body to mine. That was the exact moment I realized that there was no way I would be able to walk away from him without feeling the heartbreak that I'd been determined to avoid.

He pressed a soft kiss to my cheek and then he shifted off me. While he went to dispose of the protection, I lay in the bed with a sheet covering my nakedness wondering how I could have let myself care about him. I knew falling for a bad-boy wasn't a good idea. It was only going to bring me heartache. But the problem was any logical reasoning went out the window when I felt the warmth of feeling in my heart at the sight of him. I was pretty sure I was falling for him.

When he returned, he got into the bed and lay down beside me. We didn't touch; we just both lay on our backs looking at the ceiling in the darkness.

"Is Sin your real name?" I asked. I wanted to know more about this guy whom I'd fallen for.

"Yes," he answered. It was hard to believe that someone would name their son that.

"It's unusual. What made your mom choose that?" I asked, not quite sure if I was crossing a line by asking him so many personal questions. A few minutes of silence settled between the two of us and I was convinced he wasn't going to answer my question.

"My mom had an affair with a married guy," he revealed. "She was young and from the wrong side of the tracks when she met a rich, married guy who swept her off her feet. They started having an affair. He kept telling her he was going to leave his wife, but he never did...then she got pregnant with me."

Oh, wow!

"The day she told him she was pregnant with me was the last time she saw him," he explained. "She named me Sin so she would always remember how I came into this world."

"That's horrible," I said as I shifted onto my side to look at him. I couldn't believe a mother would do that to her son. It hadn't been his fault; it had been her mistake. I wanted to hug him, but I stayed still.

"It's okay. I like the name," he said as he turned to face me in the darkness. "The girls love it."

The girls loved him, but it had nothing to do with his name. I wasn't sure if he was serious about his last remark or if it was an attempt to cover up the hurt.

"It's also a reminder to me that people are human and they make mistakes. My mom made a mistake believing my father's lies."

A heavy silence descended. It was a depressing way to view people. It was like meeting a person for the first time and already taking for granted that they were going to fuck something up.

"Did you ever meet your father?" I asked tentatively. I knew it was a really personal question and I wasn't sure if he was going to be prepared to answer it. He seemed to consider my question for a moment.

"No," he answered. "He wasn't really a father in the true sense of the word. He was just a sperm donor."

He shifted to lie on his back with his hands behind his head.

"Did he ever try to contact you?" I kept probing, unable to believe someone would turn their back on their child.

"No, and then he died a couple of years ago."

I remembered him telling me that his father had died when I'd told him about my parents' death. It was a finality that was hard to face. He'd never met his father—or, sperm donor—and the fact that he was dead meant he never would. My heart hurt for the fact that his father had never shown him any interest and he had no idea how it felt to have a father who loved you. I knew that feeling. I hadn't felt that in a long time, but at least I'd felt it.