Sweetest Sin: A Forbidden Priest Romance (9 page)

The organ strummed
Ava Maria
. A loud and sharp middle aged woman took to the stairs, an
octave too high and a beat too late.

I thumbed through
my duffel bag and pulled out five different songs I’d previously memorized
during choir in high school and college. He glanced at the music, made a face,
and tossed out
Wither Thou Goest.

“Narrowing it
down?” I asked.

“Trying to help,”
he said.

“You haven’t heard
me sing before.”

“Honor, every word
from your lips is a song to me.”

I warmed head to
toe, but I refused to let his words distract me. I spent too many minutes,
hours, days, and now
weeks
in adoration of him instead of the church. I
breathed deeply, ignored his scent, and pretended he was any other man, any
other friend, anyone but
him.

“Which song is
your favorite?” I asked.

“
Dream On
by Aerosmith.”

I nearly laughed.
“I don’t think that will work today.”

“I’ve always liked
Pie Jesu
, despite the circumstances in which it’s sung.”

“Me too.”

Father Raphael
paused as the singer missed a note. I knew he looked at me, but I stared only
at the music, wondering how badly I must have been trembling to blur the notes
on the page.

“You don’t want to
talk with me, do you?” he asked.

That depended.
Would it appear too suspicious if we spoke this much? Or would it look worse if
we
weren’t
talking? Did I trust myself enough to have an innocent
conversation with him without dreaming of what hardened under his cassock?

I politely clapped
as the woman auditioning finished her song. Deacon Smith called for the next
audition. The organ once again strummed
Ava Maria
, and he shrugged. One
of the high school tenors sang.

The music filled
the sanctuary, and I felt safer speaking.

“Do you know that
you have a reputation here, Father?” I lowered my voice. “You’re known as
Daddy
El
.”

He smirked. “I
know.”

I figured as much.
“Does it bother you?”

“I consider it
another challenge to my collar. Believe me, Honor. Your friends are not the
first to show some leg in exchange for a little
indulgence
.”

“Really?”

“Of course. And
I’ve resisted each one.” His jaw tensed, a solid and forceful strike of
strength across his stoic face. “Except for you.”

“I haven’t asked
for any indulgences.”

“Which makes you
all the more dangerous.”

The tenor finished
his song. The next singer also began
Ava Maria
. Deacon Smith groaned,
his head in his hands.

“Guys, we have
more hymns! The church has been around for
two thousand years
.
Please
tell me someone knows another song.”

No one moved.
Deacon Smith almost tore the rest of his hair out.

“
Honor
!” He
pleaded for me. “Do you have a piece to sing that isn’t
Ava Maria
?”

The others
scrambled over the pews to grab hymnals. I took a sheet of music from my duffle
bag.

“Yeah, I have one,”
I said, smiling as Father Raphael wished me good luck.

My leg brushed his
as I edged from the pew. His fingertips grazed just behind my knee. The warmth
cascaded into my core. Quick.
Fierce
.

I nearly weakened
then, my legs wobbling as though they wished to fall to my knees before this
man.

But Alyssa and
Samantha’s cheers freed me from the chains binding my thoughts. I forced away
dark images of writhing bodies and twisting sheets, but I couldn’t fight them
for long.

I don’t know why I
did it. I handed the music to the organist, and I took to the dais as dread and
warmth dueled in my chest.

The first notes of
Pie Jesu
filled the sanctuary.

I chose the song because
of him.

It was a foolish,
indulgent
idea, but nothing sounded more beautiful than the first note I sang. It rang
through the nave, striking so softly, deftly, and beautifully against the
stained glass and carved stone that I almost didn’t recognize my voice.

The notes stunned
everyone.

Except Father
Raphael.

I should’ve looked
away.

I should’ve
focused somewhere beyond him, away from his sanctifying and desecrating gaze.

I couldn’t.

And in my
weakness, the hymn turned from solemn prayer into something dark and seductive,
just for him. The song blended the beautiful with the corrupted, and my sultry
notes struck with a pure vibrancy.

The scriptures
spoke of singing in ecstasy—but this rapture contained nothing holy.

Father Raphael
watched me. Every note, every sound, every breath carried for him. His jaw
tightened. I hit a perfectly balanced note, so high and lovely it even gave me
goose bumps.

But his hands
turned to fists. He leaned forward against the pew before him.

I recognized that licentious
look—that hunger. It was the same severe devotion to his vows he uttered when
he’d captured me in his arms, when he’d adored me more than the Lord.

He had pinned me
then. Held me tight and forced me to obey his commands.

This time, it was
my turn. I sang, and he was struck as my prisoner. I became a siren, a sinner.
My voice warmed, twisted, and seduced within a hidden harmony only he could
hear.

It was wrong.
Everything I did was
wrong
.

But he stared at
me, bestowing an attention upon me that felt more like a gift than a curse. He
didn’t leer at me as other men did, attempting to imagine what hid beneath my
clothes. He searched for my soul, for my
innocence
.

And it trapped us on
the precipice of dangerous and illicit pleasures.

I should have
stopped the song. Every note forged an intimacy which was forbidden to us. I
sang the words and imagined his lips upon mine, correcting my Latin in gentle
tease. I breathed between the notes and sighed as every exhale might be twisted
into a sigh and groan. Even the shivers on my skin crashed with the melody and
teased as if they had been caused by his touch.

Could the choir
tell?

Was it obvious?

My song was not a
hymn of praise. I seduced a priest and tested his resistance to me.

Every chord ached
deeper inside of me. I wetted under his attention. Whatever dark and secret
desires knotted within me were released in song. When the music silenced and
the choir applauded in amazement, I realized how foolish I’d been.

Father Raphael
rose from the pews in silence. He left the sanctuary, his steps cracking
against the stone and slamming my heart into my ribs.

The doors closed
behind him.

I stepped from the
dais and accepted my compliments from the others.

What was I to do?

The next person
was called to sing. I walked to my seat, but I didn’t sit. I slipped from the
sanctuary unnoticed, following in his footsteps to the adoration chapel.

He waited for me,
silent and dark with a consecrated authority.

I stepped inside. The
door closed behind me.

It was the first
time the doors to the chapel had ever been locked.

And I had no idea
what awaited me now that we were alone.

A hymn of
seduction.

A song of a siren.

A cry for my help.

…Or a plea for my
sin.

If I hadn’t known Honor
came to me as an angel, I’d have feared the deception of the devil. Beauty was so
often ruined with immorality, lusts of the flesh instead of praise for their
blessing.

Honor enthralled
me. Her presence wove through my mind and tangled in my soul.

I’d prayed with
the rosaries during her song and beseeched any power—Mother Mary, Christ, my lost
self—anyone who might have protected me from the thoughts temptation bred in my
soul.

It hadn’t healed
me of this obsession.

I trapped her in
my church to feed the darkness within me. I no longer recognized myself or my
urges, and I had no choice but to fight them. If we didn’t, if I surrendered to
my instincts and sacrificed her beauty for my own selfish desires…

I wouldn’t be a
priest.

I’d be a demon.

A monster.

And I wasn’t
losing my soul, no matter what glorious satisfaction I might have seized. 

The chapel
darkened, unused for the moment. The red candle in the sanctuary lamp remained
unlit. No spirit of Christ to protect us.

Honor slipped away,
twisting as she refused to turn her back to me. My angel retreated, each step
as deliberate and inviting as a curling finger beckoning me closer.

I twisted my
fingers in the rosaries.

Hail Mary, full of
grace…

Her lips parted,
but she hadn’t spoken, not until she struck the altar.

It
had
to
be the altar.

Why shouldn’t I
adore her as I adored all else, set upon an altar as a sacrifice for everything
that was me, my life, my vision…

The Lord is with thee…

“Forgive me,
Father,” Honor gasped. Beautiful music, a soft song of penance. “The song was a
mistake.”

I didn’t recognize
the edge in my voice. I closed the distance between us in long strides, but
even an arm’s length was too far for my aching body and too near for my fracturing
soul.

“Did you sing it
for me?”

Her nod was timid.
“You said it was your favorite.”

“It is.”

“I should have
just sung
Ava Maria
.” Honor ran a hand through her hair. The soft ebony
curls tickled through her dark fingers like the holiest of waters. “I’m sorry,
Father Rafe. I shouldn’t have…”

“I know why you
did it.” It was the same reason I locked the door to the chapel. The key rested
in my pocket. “It’s why we’re here. To answer for this sin.”

“Answer for it?”
Honor met my gaze. “Or cause it?”

Blessed art thou
among women…

I crossed myself.
The truth haunted me, torn from my own confessions with a dire warning.

“You are my
greatest challenge…” I motioned for her silence with a finger pressed to my
lips. “But that does not make you wicked. It means you are a
woman
—beautiful
and vibrant, honest and kind. Every inch of you begs for sin because it is
sanctified by the light.”

I might’ve touched
her then—run a hand along her high, proud cheekbones or delighted myself with a
brush of her lips against my thumb.

But I resisted.

And I passed that
first test.

“If I had not
taken a vow…promised myself to a higher calling…” My words breathed in a heated
sigh. “I’d cast myself upon my knees before you, Honor. I’d worship you as the
angel of seduction that you are.”

Honor closed her
eyes, but her voice didn’t waver. “I should go.”

“You must finish
your confession first.”

“I…can’t.”

Another step
closer. “Why? Afraid of what happened last time?”

We both shivered. I
imagined her quiet touches again, the only image I couldn’t purge from my mind,
my dreams, my torment.

Blessed is the
fruit of thy womb…

Her whisper
thrilled me in dark delight. “That’s exactly the reason I should go. These
things we’re saying, the desires we have…”

They were ours and
ours alone.

“Do you fear it?”
I asked.

“Yes.”

She edged past me,
aiming for the exit, another easy way to avoid this confrontation. She was
stronger than this.

I’d prove it.

I reached the door
before her, pushing a hand against it. Honor didn’t look at me. Her fingers
trembled on the handle.

I leaned close.
This woman was so tiny, so delicate and fragile, and yet…

So powerful.

A woman this
lovely and holy would always attract darkness.

“Would you rather
live in guilt, harbor this pain, and suffer in secret?” I whispered.

Honor didn’t
hesitate. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I know
how badly I want you.”

Jesus
.

I shamed myself by
blocking her path. She stepped away from the door as my cassock created a wall
of solid black, preventing her escape.

“It’s not a
weakness to admit it,” she said.

I agreed. One fewer
lesson to teach her.

Honor confronted me
with the wrong type of confidence. “I don’t trust how I feel. I don’t
understand it, and so I will remove the temptation before…anything happens.”

“Has that worked
before?” I circled her. “Denying me? Ignoring me? Shielding yourself from me?”

She bit her lip. I
stared at the softness, so plump and full, a soft brown that highlighted the
gentle femininity of her body. We stood close enough to touch, but still I
resisted. I breathed deeply instead.

Sweet apples.

Candied apples.

How could she
possess such a dangerous scent? No incense would ever smell as sweet.

Would she taste
just as decadent?

“What thoughts
have you had, my angel? Confess them to me.”

Honor sighed. “Horrible,
beautiful thoughts.”

“Of what?”

Her voice trembled,
and I felt the divine warning in every syllable. “
You
.”

“Tell me.”

“Father, I can’t
speak of such things inside a church.”

Holy Mary, mother
of God…

“Confess to me.”

“Why?” Honor looked
away. “Why confess when I will just think the same thoughts, again and again?
I’ve confessed once, and it hasn’t helped.”

I shouldn’t have
hardened.

Another reprimand,
another penance.

“Have you
transgressed again?” The fantasy teased me.

“No, Father. I didn’t
do…
that
.”

A relief…and
another challenge. Despite that wicked and unsavory sin, I was yet a man. And a
man was vain and simple, requiring the compliment of lust to appease his pride.

“Has the thought
tempted you?” I lowered my voice. “Have you wished to touch yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

She hesitated, too
afraid to reveal the truth to the man and
priest
suffering from her
shared desire.

And I answered for
her.

“You ache at all
hours…” I spoke from experience. “You’re hot, always. Desperate. Thinking only
carnal and terrible thoughts.”

“Yes.”

“And who is with
you in these thoughts?”

“You are, Father
Raphael.”

Pray for us
sinners…

“You want to feel
my touch. Hear my words.”

Honor groaned.
“This is
wrong
.”

“It is, because
you realize how badly you wish to experience it. Can you imagine me? My lips on
yours…my hands free to caress your body—celebrating you, sanctifying you,
perfect and soft.”

“Why are you
saying such things?”

“You don’t suffer
alone.” I twisted the rosary in my hand, pinching hard until I was certain the
beads imbedded into my skin. “You are my prayer now, Honor. Every joyous and
solemn word I speak is a shade of your name.”

She sucked in a
breath. “We’re speaking in sins.”

“No. I’m being
honest. It is a part of humanity—these desires are what make me a man.”

“But you have to
be a
priest
.”

“And so…” I
gestured to the space between us. “I have not indulged.”

Even when it might’ve
been easy.

Even when I
might’ve taken her, thrown her onto my desk, the floor, against a wall.

My worst demonic
urges imagined her lying flat, naked, waiting on the altar with her legs
spread, breasts heaving.

Slick and
sacrilegious.

Begging in
blasphemy.

If I was to sin,
I’d lose myself entirely. And if I was to remain holy? It would be in praise of
my vows, my faith, and my
honor
.

Now and at the
hour of our death…

“We have a
choice
.”
I declared it, loud, as if in Mass. This would be my most important homily. “We
can surrender to this desire. I’ll take your virginity, and my vow of celibacy
will belong to you. We will succumb, and this sin will be claimed.”

Honor shook her
head. “Absolutely not.”

“Then we must do
what people have done for ages.”

“Suppress it.”

“No…
fight
it.”

Honor crossed her
arms. Didn’t she realize it offered more of her curves for my inspection?

No. She didn’t.

And that made me
all the more wicked.

Eve…playing with
the forbidden fruit without realizing the damning consequences.

 “I have fought it,”
she said. “But
you
are the one who keeps me close, Father. You wanted me
here, in the choir, in the groups.”

“Yes, because I
can protect you.”

Amen
.

 “How?”

I extended my
hands. “Temptation is inescapable, but surrendering is a choice. We fear what
we don’t know, the forces we don’t understand. If we wish to fight this, we
must take the opportunity to understand what burns in us. If we discover why we
would sin together, then we’ll have the power to deny it in our most basic
instincts.”

“Deny it?” She
repeated. “Do you think it’s that easy?”

“No. No test of
faith is ever easy.”

Honor frowned. “I
didn’t think we were supposed to test our faith?”

“Our faith is
constantly
tested. We must challenge our humanity. Deny the animalistic needs, terrible
desires, and wicked perversions that would tarnish our soul.”

I spoke harshly.
Too aggressively. Honor stiffened, and her beautiful expression twisted into
confusion.

“Father Rafe, you
speak as if all sex is…
evil
.”

She wouldn’t know.
I didn’t expect someone of her innocence to understand.

“Yes, Honor. Every
touch.”

“But—” Her words
turned from hushed heat to quiet pity. I clenched my jaw as she looked upon me,
too gentle to realize the truth. “That’s not what I imagined sex would be.”

“How would you
imagine us then?” I asked. “Answer honestly.”

“Well,
this
…”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “
This
would be…dangerous. Wrong.
Tempting and forbidden. Exciting, though I know we’d suffer for it.”

“Then you
understand.”

“No, I don’t.” She
frowned. “Sex between lovers, between a man and a woman,
married
and
connected? That would be something…beautiful and holy.”

Poor angel.

Innocent
angel.

“Sex is a
declaration of power over another person.” An old darkness clouded my mind. I
refused to let it take hold. I lost too many years to that evil. “The strong
enforce their will upon a weaker body.”

“But—”

“It is raw,
primal, animalistic. An invasion of body and soul.”

Honor frowned.
“Some would call that the ultimate
trust
, Father.”

“And I see it for
the truth—a moment when you are lost, without escape. You would be
taken
and made for a man’s desires.”

She shook her
head. “Or you are made beautiful, safe, and lost only within tender affection
and loving promise.”

“You’re naïve.”

“And you’re…in
such despair.”

I wouldn’t allow
her to pity me. “I recognize my desires because they are shared by
all
men. I have no faith in us.”