“Then let’s sin, my angel,” I whispered. “And we’ll both be healed in that beautiful darkness.”
Chapter Twenty-One – Raphael
Her kiss burned like fire and tasted of forbidden fruit.
And it felt like something good.
Holy.
She acted as though I were fragile. As if I would crumble if she touched my chest or that I’d lose myself if she parted her lips too much. But I never feared for myself. My control faltered near her. I never trusted myself with her innocence, purity, and submission.
But she did.
She gave herself to me, without care for the sins I’d committed or the scars that shaped me.
I kissed her, softly and with a deliberate reverence for the gift she promised me. Honor smiled. She mewed over my lips, but she wanted more. She tugged my hand and led me to the shadows in my bedroom.
I hadn’t slept there for three weeks, not since that night I had first taken her. Was it guilt or joy that kept her in my memories? Her scent lingered on my pillows. I still felt her in my sheets. And any time I closed my eyes, I saw her beautiful dark curves cast upon my ivory sheets.
Was it the devil’s torment?
Or was it a secret blessing?
I kissed her, even as she pulled me onto the bed. She encouraged me to climb over her.
Dangerous woman.
Her legs opened for me. I followed, a man possessed, to nestle within her softness. How could she trust me this much? Didn’t she realize how badly I strained, how her simple devotion hardened me in lust and vile thought?
“All summer, I’ve lived in shame,” she whispered. “I can’t feel guilty for wanting you anymore.”
“Wanting you is my temptation, my angel.”
“Save me, Father.” Her lips met mine. “I would sacrifice my eternity to spend a lifetime with you.”
God, help me.
With a single breathy whisper, this woman became more than temptation to me.
She became my prayer. A reason to live.
The moment of my salvation.
Honor arched to kiss me. She offered more than I was willing to take, and I still gorged myself on all that was her.
I pulled off her shirt, tossing it somewhere beyond my bed. She helped, wiggling her hips and slipping from her skirt and panties. Every brush of her skin hardened me. Dark velvet against my calloused hands.
Why would a woman this perfect damn herself for me? My desires tormented my thoughts. Would I praise her? Or would I have her stripped? Rutted. Used.
Honor smiled at me. Her lips twitched in shy and lovely gratitude.
She surrendered to my touch.
And I’d have spent days in prayer to understand why.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “This isn’t something to fear. This is us. Me and you. Together.”
I let her move me, taking a kiss as she rolled me onto my back. Her bra fell away, and she angled herself over my hips. I clenched a fist before my fingers curled with the instinct to seize her, twist her, pin her to the bed where she belonged.
Instead I savored how my angel posed over me in regal grace. I leaned forward only so she could remove my shirt. Her fingertips tickled my chest.
I’d never liked being touched, but Honor’s caress was nothing to fear. She traced my muscles and summoned a raw heat inside me with every press of her fingers. I tensed, and she was there. Over me. Kissing my shoulders, my neck, my lips.
I closed my eyes. “Do you trust me?”
“Always.”
Heaven.
“Why?”
Honor’s breath was warm against my skin. “Because you are a good man. You are a good priest.” She pulled away only to stare into my eyes. “And because I know you have a good soul. I’m not afraid of the thoughts you have. I’m only afraid that I won’t be able to share them with you.”
“I’ve never confided in anyone like this.”
“I may be your first…but I hope I’m not your last. You deserve every kindness you give to others.”
She smiled, lovely and bright. That only made it worse—the need throbbed inside me. Honor wiggled her hips over mine. She pressed against my cock as it ached for her.
I regretted that I wore my sweats. Every shudder that tore through me delighted her. She teased her body against mine. Her head fell back, and her hair caressed her chest. The dark curls hid her budded nipples from my view.
The tease enthralled me.
Honor moved to pleasure herself, to grind that secret part of her against my hardness. I doubted she knew how her shimmying body and parted lips burned me. She danced on me. My Salome, for whom I’d promise the world and all its sins if she enthralled me with another grind of her hips and brush of her hand.
I couldn’t help myself. I cupped her breasts to see more, feel more, touch more of her sacred skin. My thumbs rolled over her nipples. Honor flinched—not in pain or shame. She wanted this.