Sweetest Sin(23)

“Don’t know,” I said. “He probably won’t be here. The Choir is Deacon Smith’s project.”

Alyssa shook her head. “But the festival and the Battle of the Choirs was all Daddy El’s idea. He bet the other parishes in the area a fully painted rec room to the winner. This just got serious.”

I smirked. “I thought gambling was a sin.”

“That man is sin.” Samantha fanned her face. “I hope I get stage fright just so I can imagine him in his underwear.”

And that was the image that I couldn’t get out of my head.

What was more dangerous—imagining Father Raphael naked…or picturing him in the cassock? Flesh was one perilous temptation, but I never imagined I’d fall for the robes? They were strict, commanding, and possessing every righteous power afforded to him by his Holy Orders.

Both thoughts made me tremble from the inside out. At least my song’s vibrato would sound authentic.

As if he could tell when my thoughts drifted from the pious to the wicked, the solid, solemn click of his shoes against the stone echoed through the hall. Alyssa and Samantha silently squealed. The crackers crumbled in my hand.

Father Raphael checked his text messages and tucked an iPhone into his cassock. He greeted us with a smile that seemed so genuine, so wholesome, it was as if I’d imagined the desires that stoked between us.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

His gaze lingered politely as Alyssa and Samantha twisted under the briefest of his stares. He reserved the worst and best for me. I sat, paralyzed, meeting his dark eyes with darker intentions.

Thank God for the white-collar that separated us from complete and utter devastation.

“You can go in,” he said. “Deacon Smith is on his way.”

Alyssa bit her lip. “But Father…aren’t you coming?”

Oh Christ, save us. I hid my face in my hands.

“I’ll be in shortly.” His words rumbled, heavy but innocent. “Tell him not to start without me.”

Father Raphael continued down the hall to his office. My breath returned only once his footsteps faded. Samantha giggled.

“One day, he’s going to flirt back.”

Alyssa snorted. “I doubt it. Denying us is his game. A man like that isn’t naïve. He’s in complete control.”

Control.

Right.

Father Raphael had yet to succumb to any of the desires that had so humiliated me. Was he leading me from temptation?

Or did he drag me down the dangerous path?

This was a slippery slope made slicker by his touch, words, stare.

The vestibule doors clattered open, and Deacon Smith shuffled inside, immediately dropping his papers and music. He was a blessed teapot of a man—short, stout, and constantly steaming about one thing or another. Today it was the lack parking spaces.

He groaned as he averted his eyes from Alyssa and Samantha’s bare legs. Three people followed him, and a car peeled up to the curb outside, tossing out a couple high school boys who might have worked as the bass voices we needed.

“Inside, inside.” Deacon Smith didn’t look at my friends. “We’ll start auditions in five minutes.”

Alyssa and Samantha cackled as he hurried to the organ.

“If nothing else, we can stroke him out,” Alyssa giggled.

Samantha gestured for us to follow with a curled finger. “We’ll make sure he wants to stroke something.”

The doors closed.

Wow.

I tried to avoid Hell, and they preferred to toss everyone into the fire. I gathered my things and hauled the bags over my shoulders.

The weight lifted immediately. I swallowed as Father Raphael took my book bag and laptop from me. He opened the door to the sanctuary.

“After you,” he said.

Enough was enough.

I couldn’t live in fear of this man’s smile forever.

I met his gaze and thanked him, trying to forget how warm his words were when whispered so near my lips.

If the memory still twisted in him, Father Raphael revealed nothing. I forced myself to look at the confessional. That momentary weakness had come and gone. Even if I still remembered how it felt, even if I dreamt of him at night, I took control. I hadn’t touched myself and sinned since that last time.

That made the restless nights uncomfortable. The unbearable pressure deep in my core hadn’t forgiven me, but at least He could.

I picked a pew in the middle of the church, but Father Raphael sat at my side.

Shoot.

I should’ve taken a better seat. Something up front where everyone could see us instead of five rows back.

Or maybe that would have looked just as suspicious, like they thought we were hiding something.

Were we hiding anything?

Could they tell?

Did it matter? Everyone was already seated. Alyssa and Samantha pouted from the front row.