Lust Is the Thorn (4 page)

“Oh my.” She spun slowly in the foyer, grinning despite the pain that was paling her delicate features. Her excitement brightened up her face and made her look younger than her twenty-one years despite the bruise under her eye and her swollen lip. She'd be twenty-two soon. Hopefully the marks would be long gone before that day. “Look at us, two rats from Englewood, living it up by the lake in a
mansion
.”

I grinned at her excitement. I couldn't help it. Rose smiling was a contagious thing. It was impossible not to catch it and join in, no matter how far from grace you'd fallen. “I knew it would happen all along. You'll own a home someday. You'll see.”

Her smile faded, and the joy crept out of her. “That's never going to happen, and you know it. Stop blowing rainbows and perfume where there's only shit and gunpowder. Girls like me don't live in houses like this.”

“I don't believe that.” I closed the door behind me, sliding the lock. “I refuse to believe it. I stand by what I've said all these years.”

She wrapped her good arm around herself. “Then you're a fool. I was born in Englewood, I've spent my whole life in Englewood, and more than likely, I'll die in some dark alley in Englewood—one just like last night. It is what it is. I am who I am.”

“What happened to the girl who wanted to grow up and be a teacher?” I asked with a hard edge to my voice, because her refusal to even contemplate the possibility of being something more than her parents had been made me want to punch something. “She curl up and die out in that alley, or what?”

“She's still here.” Rose lifted her chin, her blue gaze blazing with fury. “She just knows that there are a lot of obstacles in her path. Englewood is my home, and I'm okay with that. Not everyone gets to escape. Not everyone moves on to bigger and better things, like you.”

I rubbed my jaw. “Last time I stopped at Mom's, I got robbed. The time before that, my car got broken into. And you want to willingly stay in that pathetic excuse for a neighborhood for the rest of your life? Seriously?”

“It's not like I can afford much else. I mean, I don't even have a job right now, and when I do, it's minimum wage at best.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I'm lucky if I walk off with a couple hundred a week.”

“What if you had a job somewhere else? And a place in a safer section of town?” I asked slowly. “Would you still want to go back to Englewood?”

“Hell no.” She twisted her lips and pressed a finger to her throat gently before lowering her voice. “But honestly, what's the point of thinking about the
what-if's
of life? What's the point in thinking about what might be, when right now I'm literally homeless, jobless, and broken?”

I tossed the key onto the counter. “Things change.”

“But people don't,” she said softly. “I'm an Englewood girl, and always will be. You might have escaped the slums, but I didn't. I
am
the slums. It's as much a part of me as you are, or Mikey was.”

“That doesn't mean you can't escape it, too.” I caught her chin. “That doesn't mean you have to give up on your dreams.”

She gripped her arm. “Right now, the only thing I'm dreaming about is a bath and a change of clothes.”

I got that about her. I did. But I wasn't going to stop at giving her that. I was already working on a way to get her out of Englewood, and into a new life. She needed to be safe before I committed myself to the church. I
had
to know she was okay. She might not know it, and she might never know it, but she was the only real slice of morality left in my bones, after what I'd done.

And I would promise my soul to Satan before walking away from her when she wasn't settled and safe.

I owed that to Mikey, no matter what she thought.

“Then go on.” I pointed at the stairs nearby. “Find a bedroom, and a bathroom, and make it yours. While you're bathing, I'll see if we have the makings of my famous cheese sandwich in this fancy house.”

“Now,
that
”—she smiled—“I can
totally
do.”

She practically skipped up the stairs, even though she must've been sore, and I rolled my eyes at her childlike enthusiasm. That was another thing about her. She had an unstoppable ability to be honest, to look at things and state the obvious, but she also had an unrelenting enthusiasm that Englewood hadn't beaten out of her.

If I had anything to say about it, she'd never lose that.

After she rounded the corner, I opened the fridge and checked the cheese drawer. Sure enough, there were freshly sliced cheddar and American cheese. I pulled them out, grabbed the mayonnaise, and shut the door. “Jesu—
Rose
.”

Her face danced with amusement when I jumped back. “Sorry.”

“Yeah. Sure you are,” I muttered, setting the food down on the counter. She stood directly behind the fridge door, and I hadn't seen her till I closed it. Her Keds were off, but that was it. “What are you doing down here already?”

“I can't get my splint wet, and I don't want to risk splashing it by accident while trying to wash my hair with only one hand. I'd remove it, but it hurts too much if I take it off, and I'm supposed to keep it on for three days before I switch to the Ace bandages they gave me.” She bit her plump lower lip, cutting off the rush of words. “Do we have a plastic bag I could put over it, just to be safe? And, also, I need my clothes from the car.”

Of course she did.
Idiot
. I was so caught up in my plans for her future, and worrying about my own, that I'd forgotten all about the present. And her
clothes
. “I'll go get them right away.”

“Thanks.” She released her lower lip. Small little white marks were visible for a second before her lip pinked up again. “And the bag?”

I opened up some drawers, looking for any plastic bags that might be big enough to cover her bandages and splint, and came up empty. The best I could find was a sandwich-sized baggie. Closing the last drawer, I rested my hands on the counter. “Uh…”

“It's okay,” she said quickly, her tone light. “I just won't wash my hair, and I'll be careful not to get it wet.”

It had been the one thing she was looking forward to, getting clean, so there was no way I was about to make her hold off till we could find something. She still had glitter in her long hair, and that man's
touch,
on her. She needed to wash that away. All of it. “I'll just help you wash your hair.”

“Wait.” She blinked at me, her voice cracking. “What?”

“You can leave a shirt on, maybe one of mine, since they're bigger, and I'll wash your hair and help you keep the splint dry.” I scratched my scalp. “Together, we can make this work.”

“Are you sure?”

No. Absolutely not. It's a bad idea. Horrible.
“Of course. I've got two good hands, so why not use them? I'll run out, grab our things, and we'll get you started. It'll be fun.”

“Fun.”
She gawked at me as if I had lost my mind, and maybe I had. “Okay…”

I brushed past her and headed outside, taking a deep breath the second I walked through the door and out into freedom. I opened my trunk, leaned on the car, and glowered at the suitcases.

“Idiot,” I muttered to myself, glancing toward the house.

She watched me from the doorway, worrying her bottom lip. I forced a smile and waved. She waved back. No matter what I was feeling, or how badly I wanted her even though I shouldn't, I had to ignore all of that to help her. No matter how tempting her wet, tight body might be….I'd been faced with temptation before, and I'd walked away.

I could do it again, with Rose.

I
had
to.

When I reentered the house, I found her exactly where I'd left her, looking less than certain about this whole thing. I plopped the bags down on the floor and opened mine. Digging through it, I found the biggest shirt I owned and held it out to her. The more skin she covered up, the better…for both our sakes. “Here. Put this on, and come into the bathroom when you're ready.”

She eyed the shirt. “You don't have to do this. I can just not wash my hair and—”

“Just get undressed and put it on,” I snapped. I was already on edge about this whole naked-Rose thing, and she wasn't making it any easier on me. “You're getting clean from head to toe, and that's that. Stop wasting time with the useless arguing, and go get naked.”

Frowning, she snatched the shirt out of my hand. “Fine.
God
. No need to get all surly with me simply because I'm worried about your virtue.”

I cocked a brow. “I assure you, my virtue is completely safe around you.”

“Wow.” Pressing her lips together, she glared at me. I focused on her lip ring as it moved. “Way to make a girl feel unattractive.”

“You know you're gorgeous,” I called after her as she walked away.

“Whatever.” Stomping up the stairs, she entered the room to the left and slammed the door shut. Through the door, she called out: “Asshole.”

“Stop yelling! You're hurting your throat more!” I yelled up the stairs. When she remained silent in reply, I tugged on my tight khakis and imagined her stripping upstairs. My pants instantly got even tighter. She was affecting me in ways she shouldn't have. Ways I shouldn't
let
her. “Get yourself together, man,” I muttered under my breath, climbing the flight of stairs and finding the closest bathroom to the bedroom she picked. “It's just hair.”

I took everything out of my pockets in case I sprayed water on myself, then turned on the water and held my hand under it, waiting for it to get hot. Behind me, her bedroom door opened, and her soft footsteps approached. She stopped just inside the bathroom. I hadn't turned around yet, but I could sense her—which was a little bit creepy, but true. No matter how crowded a room was, I always knew the second she walked in. Always had. “Are you ready?”

“Are you sure you want to do this? I'll be almost naked and wet, and you'll be touching me. Isn't that, like, breaking a cardinal rule or something?”

I snorted. “You think pretty highly of yourself if you think you're on that very particular list.”

“Well,
no
.” She paused and let out a small laugh. “In all honesty, I don't want to get you in trouble. You want to be a priest, and I refuse to screw that up.”

“I'll be fine. I'm not going to be tempted by a wet baggy shirt and soapy, dirty hair.” Turning around, I kept my hand under the water and said, “Trust me, it'll be like washing—”
My sister
. That's what I'd been about to say.

But then I saw her standing there in nothing but a splint and
my
T-shirt, and the lie died a quick and merciful death in my throat. Her long, thin legs were bare of ink, and the shirt stopped midthigh. Her perky breasts strained against the fabric, bringing the shirt to life in ways I had never imagined even in my wildest dreams.

She leaned on the door, her good arm crossed over her breasts and her hand clasped on her right shoulder, as if she sought to hide her curves from me. One foot was crossed over the other, and she leaned on the doorjamb with her bright red lower lip caught between her teeth again. Her tongue played with her lip ring in an absentminded fashion. She was literally temptation in human form, and I was going to fall under her spell. Nothing, and no one, could save me from going under.

“Shit,” I said out loud.

My jaw dropped. The way he was looking at me, his heated eyes paired with a possessive smirk, did things to me. Things that I shouldn't allow to happen, because no matter how he looked at me, or what I
thought
I saw, it really was nothing. He didn't want me.

He
couldn't
.

I bit down harder on my lip, swallowing past my aching throat. “Thorn? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. The water was too hot,” he said quickly, yanking his hand out of the water and shaking it off as he turned his back to me.

He slowly rolled his sleeves up, which sent a shaft of desire piercing through my stomach. I've always had a thing for muscular arms, and his were the best of the best. How unfair is that? It's not as if God cared how tight your muscles were if you were a priest. The least he could do would be to let himself go a little bit. Put on a little bit of padding.

It would be the kind thing to do.

“There. It's better now.” He faced me again. “Get in.”

I crossed the room, holding on to my shoulder as if it would take the embarrassment out of this situation. It didn't. Nothing would. I was practically naked in the same room as the man I had had a crush on ever since I was old enough to know what a crush was…but he barely even
noticed
me as a woman. Just the mere thought of his hands running through my hair, massaging my scalp, and spreading soap all over my body made me tremble and ache for him to do more. To take me in ways only he could take me. To make me scream and come—

“Rose.” He pulled the shower curtain back and raised a brow. “You coming, or what?”

I choked on a laugh, avoiding looking directly at him, as if he would see exactly how badly I wanted to come—with
him
. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Let's do this.”

Get this over with before I make a fool of myself,
was more like it.

I climbed over the side of the tub and he seized my elbow, supporting me in case I slipped. I jerked away reflexively, and he stared at me with parted lips. “Rose. I would never hurt you.”

I swallowed hard and winced, cradling my arm. “Yeah. I…I know.”

“What did he do to you last night?”

“Nothing.” I bit my lip. “I'm fine. Just shaken up.”

He clasped my face, swallowing hard. “You don't have to pretend to be okay for me. You can let me in. Show me what you're thinking.”

I wanted to.
God,
I wanted to. But if I leaned on him, and told him all my secrets and fears, it would only be that much harder to watch him start his bright and shiny life without me. And he would love that life. Guys like Thorn were meant for bigger things than this. Than
me
.

So I couldn't afford to need him.

“You know who I am, and you know how tough I am. I won't let some guy with a Napoleon complex drag me down. I'm fine.” I paused at his frown. “I'll
be
fine.”

Shaking his head, he let out what sounded like a soft curse, curled his hand behind my neck, and pulled me into his embrace. He held me tightly, resting his cheek on my head, and let out a long breath. He smelled like cologne and Old Spice deodorant, and his hard chest under my cheek felt like heaven. It would have been so easy to burrow into him and let him protect me. It would have been so easy to forget who I was, and who he was, and just lean on him for once. To not be alone.

But the thing about being alone is, you get used to it. To never having someone there when you come home. To never having someone bring you hot chocolate or chicken soup when you are sick. Being alone becomes almost comforting after a while. Like you've almost forgotten what it is like not to be lonely. The second you let someone in, though, and they leave? God, you remember just how badly it sucked ass to have no one in your life who cared whether you lived or died.

I learned
that
lesson the hard way.

He massaged my scalp, and my lids drifted shut for a second. “I'm here for you, Rose.”

“I know.” I gritted my teeth and pushed off him. “But like I said, I can take care of myself. I'm good at it.”

His shirt rode up, baring my black lace panties, and I started to yank it back down, but changed my mind. He'd seen me like this numerous times and it had never had an effect on him, so the only one in this room worrying was me. And I didn't give a damn about my underwear.

“Fine.” He dropped to his knees next to the tub, grabbing the handheld showerhead with his left hand. “Sit down.”

I glowered at him. “You're being bossy.”

“Yep. Now sit.” He eyed me, his voice full of an unspoken demand that I unconsciously obeyed.
“Now.”

My butt hit the bottom of the tub before I even realized I was going to obey. “Geez. Where'd you pick up that tone of voice?”

“School. Rest your arm on the side of the tub.” I did as I was told. “Good girl.” His grip on my other arm tightened, but he didn't hold me tight enough to hurt. His touch was gentle. Kind. It made my vision blur with tears of gratitude, because I knew with Thorn I was always safe. He always had my back. “Now tip back your head. I'm going to use the handheld showerhead to get you nice and wet.”

I did as told, pressing my lips together, and tried to relax my aching, abused muscles. As his fingers massaged my scalp again, I fought the urge to lean into him. “God, I feel like I'm a little kid again.”

“When did you ever stop acting like a kid?” he asked, gathering my hair and squeezing. “I must've missed it.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I gritted out.

“I'm not allowed.”

I laughed at that. I couldn't help it. “But do you ever do it any—?”

“Oops.” He jerked the showerhead forward, sending water trickling down my face and into my eyes. “Sorry.”

I spluttered, blinking away the water. “Yeah. Sure you are.”

He lowered his face to mine, nose to nose, and shot me a cocky grin. I knew he was putting on a show, trying to make me feel better by teasing me, but even though I knew that and tried to resist, it worked. Maybe because he cared enough to try and hide his worry from me. “Just trying to get all that glitter off your face. You look like one of those vampires in those movies everyone watched and picked teams for.”

Snorting, I flicked water at him because I was totally Team Edward. It splattered across his cheek.
“Twilight.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He gave me a once-over, and something in his gaze darkened. Deepened. It stole my breath away. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“Thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel pretty.”

“That's not my job.” His lids lowered, and if I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn he was admiring my tits. “I can clean your soul for you, though, if you'd like.”

Only
he
could make such a statement sound so
dirty
.

I turned away, because if I kept staring at him, I was going to melt into a puddle of fluid at his feet. “My soul is perfectly clean, thank you very much.”

“Are you so sure about that?” he asked.

“I might not be above unholy thoughts, and I might think about sex and boys a lot, but I'm
allowed
to have those thoughts in my head, unlike you.” I ran my tongue over the inner side of my lip ring. “Just like I'm allowed to have those boys in my bed, whenever and however I want them, if I so desire.”

His grip on my hair tightened, tugging it just enough to sting a little. “Do you have lots of those?”

“Thoughts?” I lifted my lashes. He was watching me as if…as if he wanted to be one of those men I thought about. Little did he know, he starred in almost all my fantasies. Even when I was with another guy, he was usually on my mind. “Or boys?”

His jaw flexed, and he leaned in slightly. “Both.”

“What's it to you?” I asked.

He didn't answer.

“There's been thoughts. Lots of them. Some about boys I've had. Some about boys I wish I could have, but can't.” I glanced at his mouth, but forced my attention upward again. “You know how that goes, though, I'm sure.”

He studied me, his eyes burning with the heat of a thousand suns. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, you can't have sex.” I bit my lip. “Surely you have thoughts you can't act upon once in a while. I mean, I know how much you enjoyed sex before….”

“You never should have known that.”

“Well, when you consistently have sex on the porch of my house…”

He shook his head, not turning my way. “I'm sorry I did that. I was a different man back then. A boy.”

“No need to apologize. I liked it. I used to love watching you light up a cigarette afterward. You'd be so calm. So relaxed…”
While I'd been eaten up with jealousy because that girl wasn't me.
“Does that make my soul
dirty
and
unclean
?”

He swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

I pushed his dark hair off his face. It was damp from my splashing him, so it looked almost black against his tan complexion. He stiffened, his jaw hardening. “No. I guess not.” I lowered my hand, and he visibly relaxed. “Though I'd love to find out if you have dirty thoughts that tarnish
your
clean soul.”

“Ladies first.” He cleared his throat. By this point, I was 99 percent certain that I wasn't imagining the way he was watching me. It was as if he wanted to rip my shirt off and finally get this thing going, like I dreamed about almost every night. “What boys can't you have? Seems like a girl as pretty as you could have anyone she wants—preferably one who doesn't want to hit you when he drinks too much. I don't think that's aiming too high.”

I lifted a shoulder. “Some are…off-limits. You know?”

Like you.
Especially you.

“Why?” he asked again. “Are they married? Because if so, you'd best back off. That's a sin you don't want on your soul.”

“Why, Father Thorn, are you—?”

“Still not a priest yet,” he said drily.

I reached out and yanked on his white collar, ignoring his interruption. “Are you trying to wrangle a confession out of me? To cleanse me in more ways than one?”

He tugged my head back until I was staring at the ceiling instead of him. “And if I was?”

“Then you're wasting your time. I don't do things I'll regret later.” A drop of water hit my lips, so I licked it away. “Of course, that doesn't mean much, considering I don't really have regrets. I'm not that kind of girl. If it's fun and it makes me feel good, I do it. And I don't sit there in the morning and wish I could take it back.”

His fingers moved over my scalp, sending tingles down my spine and over my whole body. I'd been with a few men, and they'd made me feel good in bed—but they'd never made me feel like
this
. It made me wonder what it would feel like if Thorn wasn't who he was, and if we were free to get naked and sweaty together.

I bet I wouldn't be able to walk for a week afterward.

“Even if it's wrong?” he asked quietly. His mouth was right next to my ear, so his hot breath washed over me, intensifying the desire curling in my belly. My nipples tightened, and my breath stuck in my throat. I gripped his shirt with my bad arm to balance myself, and brushed my nails across his hard chest. Is it even legal for a seminarian to be so damn fit? So irresistible? “Even if you
know
you shouldn't do it?”

“That only makes it even more fun,” I said, my voice breathy.

“Is that so?”

I fisted his shirt, tugging him a little bit closer. Not because I had nefarious intent, but because if I hadn't my body might have given out on me. Being in his arms like this washed away all the bad thoughts, and made me feel like my whole body was pure jelly. “Of course. You have to agree with me. Like, that time you were fucking Grace Borrowton in Mikey's room while her dad was downstairs getting drunk with mine. I bet that was exhilarating, wasn't it?”

He made a choked sound. “I don't really remember. Like I said. Changed man.”

“Yeah…” I bit my tongue and ran my hand up to his shoulder, gripping it. It was sturdier than his shirt—and God, I needed that right now. “Are you sure you've changed all that much?”

“I haven't had sex since I entered seminary school,” he said, his hands still massaging my scalp. I let his touch wash over me. “So, yeah. I'm pretty sure I've changed.”

I ran my thumb over the smooth cotton of his shirt, wincing at the sharp jab of pain it caused in my wrist. “But do you think about it? Dream about it? Want it? Wake up with your hand down your pants?”

He made a choking sound.
“Rose.”

“What? I'm just curious, is all.”

“Those aren't things you should ask a priest,” he said quietly.

“Ah…” I lifted my lids. “But you keep telling me you're not a priest yet.”

He frowned, not saying anything.

“Inquiring minds want to know,” I said to fill the silence. “And I answered your personal question. It's only fair.”

“I don't—” He stopped massaging my scalp and reached across me to grab the shampoo. His forearm brushed across my hard nipples, and we both stiffened as a moan escaped me. Arm still extended, he turned to me, his lips parted.
“Rose.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, his gaze dipped down to my breasts. There was no doubting it this time. “Sorry. I can't help it. You're—well, you know. But we can stop. I'll—”

“Don't move. Don't you dare move.” He flexed his jaw, and he slowly lifted his gaze to mine. With his other hand, he smoothed my wet hair back from my face. His touch was strong. Steady. Addictive. “You're beautiful. You know that, right?”