Sweetest Sin: A Forbidden Priest Romance Read Free Page B

I would have silenced forever if it meant
earning another moment of pleasure within his shadow.
    My body tensed
without the shackles of morality. I surrendered to his scent of sandalwood, the
quiet authority in his voice, and his perfectly still, vigilant silhouette watching as I bucked against my fingers.
    I wasn’t practiced
at this, but my hips arched and instinct overwhelmed me. A shudder struck me.
Then another. The heat crippled my body, and I held my breath as everything
silenced in my own moment of weakness.
    “Now, my angel.”
    I came.
    Panting. Silent.
    Shaking.
    What had I done? I
shifted, the heat coursing through me in a release of all tension and pain.
    Except one.
    Shame .
    Father Raphael
spoke with a grave authority. “Honor, I will forgive this moment, but you must—”
    “ No .”
    I couldn’t stand.
My legs trembled, weak and wobbly. I crashed against the confessional door. The
door slammed against the wooden frame, and the echo clattered through the empty
sanctuary.
    I burst into the
pews, my sweat turning to chills. What precious relief I stole was now bathed
in dread.
    He followed. I knew
he would. I felt him approach.
    “Honor.” Father
Raphael called to me, strict and severe.
    I wasn’t prepared
to face him. I stared away, down, at anything but the black cassock that draped
his form. He stood in that perfect, holy darkness, unbroken in black robes save
for the hint of white at his collar.
    I didn’t dare look
at his face, share his stare, or stay within his presence.
    “Honor, you will be absolved,” he said. “It is my decision, my choice to forgive you for the
sins I have caused.”
    “You don’t
understand.”
    I backed away from
him, still clenched, still aching from a relief I could no longer give
myself.
    Not when it wanted
more.
    Not when my body
craved him.
    “My angel, I will
lead you from this temptation.”
    “You can’t.”
    Father Raphael
stepped too close. I pushed from him, stepping away, blinking tears and hating the
truth of why I came here tonight.
    It wasn’t to
absolve myself.
    Just the opposite.
    “Father, I didn’t
confess because I had impure thoughts…” I whispered. “I confessed because I liked them. Because I want to have them. Because I want you in those
fantasies.”
    “Honor—”
    “Forgive me,
Father.”
    I didn’t let him
reach for me.
    I ran from the church.
    His imagined
shadow followed me home and lingered in my thoughts, my heart.
    And in my bed.

Chapter Two – Raphael
     
    No temptation has
overtaken you that is not common to man - 1 Corinthians 10:13.
    I breathed the passage, lived the scripture, and revered it as truth.
    Those words were
the only reason I hadn’t succumbed to temptation long ago, to forces less
dangerous and more unworthy than Honor Thomas.
    I hadn’t slept.
Hadn’t eaten. My cold shower did little to alleviate the strain which
shook my body and nearly destroyed my vows.
    I closed my eyes. I
still saw her, heard her, felt her.
    Honor’s beauty was
not simply found in the sable richness of her skin, though I imagined she was as
lovely as Solomon’s dark Shulamite woman. My angel was worthy of
song and praise, poem and touch, from
the ebony twist of her curls to the feminine tease of her hips. Her silken skin
hid within modest skirts and blouses, and the innocence of her eyes widened the
almond roundness into the playful glimmer of something more…something virginal.
    And so very dangerous.
    I’d left the
confessional after she ran from the church, but I’d stayed all night in the
sanctuary to pray. It hadn’t helped. I ached to hear the twisted and forbidden
words which reluctantly tumbled from her lips…lips which deserved the grace of
a kiss, not the foul venom of sin.
    I’d prayed for
her. I’d prayed for me.
    And now I prayed
for the strength to stand without…revealing how dramatically her confession still
stirred me.
    All animals
suffered from temptation. Restraint was the only trait which separated