A Necessary Sin: The Sin Trilogy: Book I

That makes for a problem in the friend department. “I see your dilemma. I’m sorry.”


“But I’ve grown close to your mother. That’s a good thing.” I like Bleu and my mum being friends.

“She taught me her version of shepherd pie and now I have a crazy craving for open roast beef sandwiches with gravy. Maybe with potatoes and carrots?”

“That sounds really good.”

“I was thinking of cooking tonight. I’m tired of hospital food and I’m guessing you are too.”

“I’ll never turn down your food.” Everything Bleu cooks is fantastic.

“You like my southern cuisine?”

“Very much.”

“To the couch with you.”

My flat has an open floor plan so I can easily lie on the couch and watch Bleu.

She’s a tough lass. Scraps as well as any man I know, probably better, yet knows how to cook a delicious meal. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“I can’t knit worth than a damn. My grandmother tried to teach me once. I got so frustrated I wanted to stab someone in the eye with the needle.” Why am I not surprised by this?

“Remind me to never ask you to knit me a sweater.”

She laughs and makes a stabbing motion with the fork in her hand. “Good thinking.”



* * *



We finish dinner and then watch TV until bedtime. We’re side by side doing our nightly routines, preparing for bed. It feels domestic—and comfortable.

It’s odd the things a man will think of when he believes he’s toeing the line between life and death. I was terrified to surrender to my body’s exhaustion; I believed if I closed my eyes for even a second, I’d never wake again. It was in those last moments before everything went black that I looked at Bleu and recalled the simple things—holding her after one of her nightmares, kissing the top of her head as I leave for work, listening to her breathe in the dark. Of all my fleeting thoughts, this one was my favorite—standing side by side getting ready for bed, me wearing my sleep pants and her in one of her soft, flowing nightgowns.

Bleu notices me watching her reflection. She goes still and looks at me, her toothbrush hanging from her mouth like a stogie. “What?” Her mouthful of toothpaste foams and spatters on her lips when she speaks. She spits and rinses.

“I missed this.” My eyes roam over the simple, satin nightgown clinging to her body. “Especially when you’re wearing something like that.”

She closes her robe, tying the belt at the waist. “You should probably stop looking because there will be none of that. Your body has been through hell. It needs time to heal.”

I know what will cure me. “I don’t want to stop looking.”

“This is the least sexy gown I have, but I can change into a T-shirt and yoga pants if this is going to be a problem.”

“Never.” I move over to hug her from behind, slipping my arms around her waist. “Absolutely not. I’ve missed seeing you in your pretty bedtime things.”

I kiss the side of her neck and she shudders as she leans into me. She moves her hand down my forearm and laces her fingers through mine. “I was so afraid. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I know.” A confused look comes over her face. I decide to let that one sink in for a minute so I kiss the back of her head and leave the bathroom.

She comes out a moment later massaging in her lotion and crawls into bed next to me. She turns onto her side and looks at me. “How did you know I was afraid of losing you?”

I place my hand on her thigh, rubbing it in a circular motion. “I heard the things you said to me.”

She scrunches her brow. “What do you think I said?”

“You told me you weren’t letting go, that it wasn’t time for our story to end. ‘Let me be the reason you stay.’”

She neither denies nor confirms my account, but I don’t need her validation. I know everything she said.

She rises to a sitting position and entwines her fingers in mine. “How do you feel about the things you heard?” I think that’s an admission.

“I want to know the rest of the story.”

She rises and moves one leg over my pelvis so she’s straddling me. She leans forward, her elbows pressed into the pillow on each side of my head, and kisses my mouth. I place my hands on her thighs and move them upward until they reach her bare cheeks. “Miss MacAllister, I believe you have forgotten your knickers.”

A mischievous grin spreads. “It seems I have.”

She moves to kneeling between my legs. She hooks her fingers into my waistband and tugs. I lift my hips and she drags my sleep pants downward.