Sweetest Sin: A Forbidden Priest Romance (7 page)

“Father—”

“You are doing
what’s
right
. Honor thy mother—it’s so important you were named for it.”

“It’s hard to
honor someone who hadn’t honored themselves for sixteen years.” Her voice
dropped, and my heart stilled with it. She edged closer.

This wasn’t a
moment of truth, but a feat of strength.

Was it wrong to
take her hand? To hold it? To feel her warmth surge through me?

Honor needed that
comfort. In any other case, with any other person, I’d have given all of me to
ease the burdens of their heart. It made no difference if she was a stranger
or…

If she were my
angel.

I took her hand,
and the mistake burned through me.

Her breathing
shuddered, but she said nothing. That made it worse. My blood boiled, raged, and
plummeted from my head and into the wickedness below.

I truly was a
monster.

Her lips trembled,
parted. The timid pink of her tongue gently licked her bottom lip—not in crass
seduction, but in soft nervousness.

The things I would
have done to that lip, her tongue, the fears and burdens she hid. Honor
deserved nothing but pleasured bliss and quivering breath.

I wasn’t the man to
give it, but if I wasn’t careful, I’d be the one who took it.

Honor squeezed my
fingers, staring at our entwined hands. Light against dark. Right against
wrong.

Man and woman.

Priest and flock.

Honor’s eyes
fluttered shut, and I was helpless to resist the only urge I trusted. I had to
touch the silken skin of her cheek.

But I couldn’t do
it. Instead, I palmed the back of her hand. Her own fingers caressed her cheek,
and I pressed through her, envious of her touch. Her hand acted as a barrier,
but I could feel her trembling. Sense her warmth.

I stared at her
lips.

This was not a
terrible and vile seduction. Not all of it. Soft words. Confessed feelings. It
jeopardized my collar, my vows, my everything, but she opened to me, and I
understood her.

Honor met my gaze.
She whispered her fears, worries, burdens to me.

Should I have felt
so proud?

So
fortunate
?

“My Dad loved my
mother,” she said. “He took care of her every day while she was sick, even when
she was at her worst.”

“Did you love
him?”

“Yes. Very much.
He’s gone now…” She leaned into our hands. “But you already know that, don’t
you? You’re the priest of this parish. I’m sure you know a lot about everyone.”

It was true. “I
wait for them to tell me before I ask questions.”

“Well…” Honor
sighed. “I can tell you this…my dad never got to see my mom sober. He died
before this change happened. That doesn’t seem fair.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you
can.” Her eyes closed as the heat from our hands caressed us both. “What about
you, Father? Where’s your family?”

I dropped my hand.

My stomach
twisted, and I banished the thoughts, the desires.

And damned the
disgusting hardness that threatened to
tent
the black robes I wore.  

I would not
surrender to my primal needs. I was stronger than that.

I prayed I was
stronger than I thought I was.

“My family
is…around.” I shifted, placing two imaginary bibles between us. It shamed her.
That was not my intention.

Honor smirked,
forcing a joke. “You’ve seen my family. What’s yours like? Wanna trade?”

“You don’t want to
trade with me.”

Her smile faded,
and I owed her more than that, especially as she finally opened up to me.

But my story was
practiced, almost wooden. I doubted she could hear it. Only a man who devoted
his life to listening for the unspoken might have heard the resentment.

“I’m the youngest
of eight.”

“Whoa.”

I shrugged. “Roman
Catholic.”

“Right. Wow.”

“My brothers and
sisters are much older than me—by at least six years. I don’t really see them
often. They live everywhere across the country. Two in New York, one here in
Pittsburgh, one stationed in Germany, one in Dallas, one in San Jose, and
one…well, he hasn’t corresponded with us for a while. Last I heard he was in
jail.”

“I’m sorry.” Honor
shrugged. “Did any of them go into the clergy?”

If only. It might
have helped.

“No. I’m the only
one with a calling.”

“What about your
parents?”

“My mother
is…still shocked I became a priest.”

“And your father?”

“He’s not devout.”

“No?”

“He has no fear of
Hell.”

I thought I hid
the dark spite in my words, but Honor flinched nevertheless.

Since when was I
such a terrible priest? An angel like her had nothing to fear.

Except me,
apparently.

The silence ached
through me. I hated this.

“I don’t often
talk about myself,” I said.

“Maybe you should.”
She leaned against the pew. Her arms crossed again, but not to hide. She
turned…almost playful. “It might alleviate some of your mystery.”

“I’m no mystery,
Honor.”

“Are you so sure?”

“I am a priest.
That is who I am.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

She didn’t look
away. “Why are you a priest?”

“I ask myself that
question every day.”

She didn’t
understand. I arched an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t be a
good priest if I didn’t meditate, pray, and reconfirm my faith every day.”

“Have you ever…”

“Regretted it?” I
answered for her. No need for hesitations, not when I knew why she asked. “No.”

“Not even once,
not even for a moment?”

Was it another
temptation? Or was it honesty? In her, I was served a vision of sensuality and
wicked ambitions. I’d overcome those desires in the past. What made her so
different?

I’d never
regretted becoming a priest. The clergy, my vocation, my faith was the barrier
I had and the only protection I possessed that granted me the strength to
overcome my own monstrous self.

But footsteps
echoed from the hall—high heels clacking along the linoleum.

I stood, heart
racing. I jerked away from the pew in a sudden movement.

There
was my regret.

I knew I wasn’t supposed
to be here. When I’d stepped into the adoration chapel, I feared we’d repeat
the same sins.

But that was the
wrong fear. I should have worried for my own
guilt
.

We flinched away
and tensed—as if whoever walked the halls might have peeked inside and
witnessed our sins. Honor leapt up, stubbing her toe on the pew. A small
penance to pay for the guilt which raced in my heart.

Except I hadn’t
surrendered to any desire. I didn’t touch her, hadn’t indulged in what wasn’t
mine. My vow remained unbroken, and Honor’s lips untasted.

We had done
nothing wrong.

But for how long?

The footsteps
hurried across the hall and into the sanctuary. The wooden door banged closed.

Honor spoke first.
She clutched her phone and braced as if to run. “I have to go.”

“Honor.”

“No,” she said.
“Don’t. Don’t say anything. Please. Can we just forget what happened that
night?”

How could a simple
comfort become such a dangerous lie?

“No.” I hated to
hurt her. “We need to remember what happened.”

She lowered her
eyes. “So it doesn’t happen again?”

Yes. And no. That
memory was a moment of joy and sin, utter infatuation and great weakness. “We
need to confront this. Hiding from that night will damn us. It’d be too easy
for that desire to take hold in our minds. We can’t let it steal our thoughts,
invade our dreams…fuel our fantasies.”

Honor bit her lip.
“I’m trying not to think like that, Father.”

“As am I.”

“Is it working?”

No. “You did not
take the Eucharist during the evening Mass.”

She shook her
head. “It didn’t feel right.”

“It would have
been.”

“How can you
forgive this?”

“Why would you
punish yourself? Everyone…
everyone
has desire, Honor.”

“It was more than
desire
.”

“Lust then.
Attraction. That…” The hardness returned, persistent and demanding and almost
painful in its beauty. “Need.”

Her body trembled with
mine.

One touch, and I’d
be scarred with sin.

One precious
moment, and I’d rend through her soul.

One forbidden
night…and we’d be lost in each other, damned for eternity but blessed for this
lifetime.

“How are we
supposed to protect ourselves, Father?” Honor’s voice haunted like a hymn and
scourged like a flogger. “I have to go. That’s the only way.”

“No.”

“
No
?”

Selfish, terrible
desire. It addled my brain, blurred my thoughts, and hardened every
irresponsible part of me.

“I want you to
stay,” I said. “I want you to become more involved with the church.”

“How could that
possibly
help?”

“How could it
hurt?” I gestured to the chapel. “This should be the place where we come to
seek strength and comfort.”

“And what if we
destroy it?”

I wouldn’t let her
speak of her soul in such a way. It pained me, just as it hurt her.

“I spoke with my
mentor today…Bishop Polito.” I didn’t say where I visited him or why I had gone.
“He warned me not to get trapped within my own thoughts. We can’t internalize
our problems. We must find a way to redeem ourselves. We are alone in our sins,
and that is why we’re suffering. To end it, we must stay together. You will
become more involved in the church.”

“It’s a bad idea,
Father. I won’t be forgiven because I’ll sing in the choir or help in the
festival.”

“Absolution is
mine to give. This is a chance to heal your spirit. You can give of yourself to
understand what has happened.”

She shook her
head. “And what about us?”

“We fight how we
feel. We forgive our transgressions. And if we are tempted…”

“
When
we
are tempted, Father,” she said. “It is not a matter of
if
. It’s
when
…
how
.
I can’t trust myself around you.”

Trust.

A strange word.

I trusted nothing of
temptation. Not what darkened my mind, beat my heart, or hardened the part of
me pressing against the trousers under my robe. I tried to hide everything that
stained my soul, but my thoughts still shattered with wicked images and fantasies.

But if I wanted to
help Honor, I’d have to
trust
that I was strong enough to resist.

Because I could
only protect her if she stayed close.

If she wasn’t lost
already.

If
I
wasn’t
lost already.  

“
Better is open
rebuke than hidden love
, Proverbs 27:5,” I said. “We’ll hold ourselves
accountable. Protect each other.”

“Is it possible?”
Honor lowered her voice. She approached me, her hesitating steps a challenge to
my restraint. “I want to be holy, Father. And pure. And
blessed
…”

Her hips swayed.

Her blouse was buttoned
high, but the strain of the white material caressed the swell of her chest.

She breathed sweet
questions of innocence and lust between parted lips.

My angel offered
her salvation, damnation, and body for me. And tasting even a moment of that
surrender would have destroyed my own honor.

Dreadful,
beautiful fantasy.

And she knew it.

Honor lowered her
gaze. “I didn’t think it was possible, Father. What we feel is too dangerous. We
can’t control it.”

A quiet rage
blossomed within me.

I could control
myself. I was strong enough, fierce enough,
devout
enough to quell
whatever mortal, human,
flawed
urges tried to possess me.

Nothing would ever
challenge me that I hadn’t already faced.

Nothing
.

I seized Honor,
pulling her into my arms. She gasped, though the words silenced as my hand
tangled in her hair. I held her tight as I pinned her to my body.