Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
I swear something happens to my body as his eyes rake over me. It makes me almost mewl at the sight of the fire burning there. It makes me wish he didn’t take a vow to be celibate.
However, it’s probably best he did.
There’s no part of me that can even entertain the idea of having a relationship right now. Even if I know the sex would be insane between us.
It would, right?
I bet it would.
“You like me with the wig?” I ask with a small laugh.
He touches a few strands, lifting it lightly. “You’re definitely hot, but so much prettier with the long blonde hair.”
I smile. “So, Father Carmichael prefers blondes, huh?”
He nearly growls, his eyes widening momentarily. “I didn’t say that.”
“It’s okay. It can be our little secret.” I give him a wink.
His eyes flash with something as he steps an inch closer. “Yeah?”
Oh my god. My heart rate kicks up a notch and my throat goes completely dry. “Yeah,” I whisper back, my hands trembling in his presence.
“God forgive me,” he says, and then he crashes his lips to mine.
And in all things holy his kiss is soul-crushing. His tongue presses against my lips, begging to be let in, and I open, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He snakes his hands around my waist and tugs me flush against his body, and I can feel the hardness there, pressing into my belly.
He’s hard.
So. So hard.
It’s like my mind can’t process this, and I keep kissing him. Our tongues meeting together, tracing patterns, and exploring each other’s mouths. My mind grows fuzzy with lust, and I think I hear myself moan.
Father Carmichael’s hands travel lower, grazing the top of my ass, and oh no, I just called him Father Carmichael in my mind.
This is so wrong.
I break the kiss, pushing on his chest for him to step back. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
His eyes connect with mine, and there’s something hidden deep within. Like a secret he doesn’t want me to know. “No, I’m sorry, Eva. You don’t deserve this.” He brushes a hand through his hair and leaves the room in a hurry, and I’m left standing here, wondering how I’ll ever forget that kiss.
It takes a few seconds for my breathing to return to normal, and for my heartbeat to steady, but once it does I leave the room, heading down to the lockers to gather my things to head home for the evening. My mind a complete mess.
As I sit in my kitchen the next morning, my mind replays the kiss Father Carmichael and I shared. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a moment charged with emotions I hadn't felt in years. His lips were warm and soft. The way he gently cupped my face, his fingers trembling slightly, conveyed a mixture of hesitation and desire. Should I call him Benedict? I have to. The name makes him seem more human, more like the man who held me with such tenderness, rather than the priest bound by vows. Calling him Benedict makes me feel less guilty, as if by doing so, I can momentarily forget the sacred commitments we both shattered in that fleeting yet profound embrace.
I can’t get his blue eyes out of my mind. The way his hands felt on my body.
I’m going to hell.
I think about my day ahead, how I’ll have to work at the club tonight but not in the Delgado’s room. Not with Benedict.
I’ve got just a regular serving shift, yet my nerves are completely shot. Will I even be able to concentrate on work with the memories of what happened in that room between Benedict and me?
I’m guessing I won’t because I’m barely able to think about anything right now. I glance at my phone, wishing I could call him and ask him what that kiss meant.
But I won’t.
I should know that kiss meant nothing and he’s a priest, so I’m sure he’s feeling guilty over it. He probably doesn’t ever want to see me again.
I don’t blame him. I should have pushed him away. I should have known better.
What is wrong with me?
I move through my house like a zombie, cleaning a few of Nate's things as I think about work this evening. A small part of me wishes Benedict would be there.
Even though he has no reason to be. I’m sure this one kiss meant more for me than him. Any man, priest or not, would fail to succumb to the pressures of kissing a woman in his situation. He sits there most nights, watching couples fuck. Of course he’s going to get turned on. Hell, I’m turned on just by thinking about it.
Him watching others. Jerking his dick in his fist.
Oh my god.
I can’t believe I just thought that.
I’m definitely going to hell.
My phone rings, and I glance down to see who it is. I roll my eyes when I see it’s Christopher.