Lust Is the Thorn (5 page)

I swallowed back a groan, and for the first time all day, the pain that had been my constant companion since last night faded away. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“It's so hard to pretend I don't notice. You have no idea how hard it is.” He licked his lips and snaked his hand behind my neck, resting his fingers over my racing pulse as he leaned in closer. “I'm over it. Just one taste. That's all I want.”

It was like he was talking to himself instead of me. As if he was trying to talk himself into doing something. I parted my lips and whispered, “Thorn? What are you doing?”

He froze, blinked a few times, and let go of me quicker than I bet that cop who'd been caught with a prostitute riding his dick in his car last week had let go of her. “
Jesus
. I'm sorry. Just…ignore that, please.”

Ha. As if.
I could pretend to ignore it, but I would never forget the way he'd looked at me—as if I was already his. And I was, even if he didn't know it.

God,
I needed a cigarette now.

“You did it again,” I said, swallowing a painful moan when he reached across me and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. This time, he made sure to steer clear of my nipples. I squeezed my thighs together, hoping to ease the ache he'd brought to life inside me. “Cursed—this time with the Lord's name. I sense a mandatory confession coming on.”

“Yeah.” He grabbed the shampoo and poured it into his palm. “Around you, I find myself slipping back into bad habits. Habits I'll never be able to truly escape.”

Like fucking women in backyards?
“What kind of habits?”

His hand was in my hair again and his jaw was set hard, and he didn't even remotely resemble the man who had been about to kiss me moments before. Every movement he made was fast. Jerky. Unpredictable.

And oh my God,
he'd almost kissed me
.

What even was that?

“The kind I should have sworn off years ago.”

I played with my lip ring with my tongue, watching
him
watch
me
. A powerful headiness hit me, because he was looking at me like he wanted nothing more than to run his tongue over my piercing like I was. “Are you saying I'm a bad influence on you?”

Slowly, his eyes left my mouth and slammed into mine. “And if I am?”

“I don't know.” I lifted a shoulder. “Whatever, I guess.”

“That doesn't bother you?” he asked gruffly, his fingers moving over my scalp.

I lowered my lashes, because water and shampoo were flying in the air. “Honestly, I don't believe in bad influences. No one is going to do something they didn't already want to do. If you do something bad, it's because you wanted to, not because someone ‘made' you do it.”

“So if I convinced you to kill the guy next door—?”

“First of all, you wouldn't do that. You're too much of a Goody Two-shoes now.” I patted his shoulder comfortingly, even though the movement hurt my back. “But on the slight off chance that you aren't, and you wanted the guy next door dead and asked me to help? Well, if I did, it would be because I wanted him dead, too. Not because
you
wanted me to want him dead.”

“I'm not a Goody Two-shoes,” he growled, his hand leaving my scalp. He yanked my hair back with the perfect amount of pressure to send a shaft of desire downward to pool in my belly. “You have no idea who I am. What I've done. What I want to do.”

“So tell me,” I said slowly, daring to glance at him through my lashes again. He was staring at me with so much heat I was seconds from ripping my shirt off and throwing myself into his arms. “What kind of guy are you?”

“The kind who is washing his best friend's little sister, and trying to remember who she is—and more important, who he is.” He leaned in, nose to nose. “The kind who knows why your nipples are hard, and why you keep pressing your thighs together, and is doing his best to pretend he doesn't see it. Who wants to press you up against this wall and fuck you, hard, until you come so many times you can't possibly take any more of me moving inside of you.”

Well,
shit
. Damn him for putting such vivid detail into my head like that. I wanted him to do those things, too. So badly. “Why pretend not to think about those things at all?” I fluttered my lashes at him and skimmed my finger down his chest. “Is it a sin to admire something God himself made?”

“When I'm me, and you're you, and I'm seconds from becoming a priest?” He caught my hand and trapped it against the tile. With his free hand, he grabbed the conditioner. “Yeah. It is.”

“Why don't you just do it, then? Take your vows?” I shut the world out again as he massaged the conditioner into my scalp, trying to turn off my body's hyperawareness for him before I self-combusted. “You already graduated with a degree in education, and you said you're ready. So what's stopping you?”

“Nothing's ‘stopping' me.” He threaded his fingers through my hair again, massaging the conditioner through the strands. His touch was magical. “I'm just waiting, that's all.”

My eyes snapped open. “Waiting for
what
?”

“I don't know.” He pushed me forward, his jaw tighter than before. Squeezing the excess moisture out of my hair, he let out a long breath. “I guess it's like anything in life that's this huge of a decision. Right before you commit yourself to something that will
literally
change your whole life and everything about it, you've got to pause and examine your choices. When you're a priest, your entire life is about helping others, and thinking of everyone else before even taking a second to think about what's good for you. It's only natural to pause before committing to that. To wait for a sign that it's the right path for you. I'm waiting for mine. We all get one.”

“Oh.” Okay, I got that. It was like a bride having jitters before walking down the aisle. She might get nervous, but she still
went
. And so would he. “You still didn't answer my question, though.”

“Funny.” He cocked a brow, grabbed a washcloth, and squirted some soap on it. “I thought I just did.”

“Not
that
one.” I eyed him nervously. “What are you doing?”

“Washing the glitter and dirt off you.” He paused in midreach for my arm. “Yet another question answered. You're full of them today.”

I jerked back. If he ran his hands all over my body…“I can wash myself, thank you very much. I've got one good arm on me, and that's enough. I just needed help with my hair.”

“And risk getting your splint wet the first day you're in my care?”

I lifted my chin. “I won't.”

“If you do, can you afford to go back and ask for another one? To pay out of pocket, since you don't have insurance?”

Avoiding his eyes, I shrugged. “They took pity on me once and gave me this one. They might give me another.”

“No, they won't.” He shook his head. “Now stay still.”

“But—” I broke off with a groan. He ran the washcloth up my inner arm, slowly climbing to my biceps. It was an innocent thing. He was helping me out of the goodness of his heart. But,
God
. My body didn't know that. Every nerve in my body tingled and came to life, begging him to touch me everywhere.
Every
.
Where
. “God.”

“Nope, I'm just me,” he said distractedly, staring at his hands moving over me. His mouth parted, and he moved closer, his nostrils flaring. “Just…” He slid his hand down my arm again, snaking toward my palm. “Shit.” Something in him snapped, and he stared at me with a startling intensity that claimed me as his without a word. And, God, I wanted it to be true. I wanted to be his in every sense of the word. “Stand up. Right now.”

I blinked at him. “But—”

“Now.”

“Okay. God.” I struggled to my feet and he helped me steady myself. “There.”

His grip on me tightened. “Turn around. Face away from me.”

I sucked in a deep breath and did as I was told, resting my good arm against the white-tiled wall. “What are you—?”

“Shh.” He climbed into the tub behind me, fully clothed, the heat of his body washing over me. I wasn't in the water anymore, so I shivered, but inside I burned with the heat of the desire that he had awakened in me. Desire I had never felt so strongly before. He trailed a soapy finger down my spine, stopping just short of my butt. “I've got you, Rose.”

“Wh-what are you doing? You're getting your clothes all wet.”

“I don't care. I'm cleaning you. All of you.”

“But—”

“You're so beautiful.” Even with the shirt separating us, I felt his touch all the way to my dark, twisty soul. And I
ate it up
. His hand paused, then but snaked around to the front of me. He slid his hand under my shirt, soaping up my waist. He climbed higher, the tips of his fingers brushing the bottoms of my breasts. “
My
Rose. My sweet Rose.”

I dropped my forehead to the tile, chest rising and falling rapidly.
He's not seducing you. He's bathing you. Do not engage. Do not moan. Do not come.
“I'm not sweet at all.”

“Ah, I think you are.” He dipped his hand over the sides of my panties and down my thigh, washing me and driving me insane, all at once. “I think you're very sweet.”

I bit my lip to hold back the moan that was trying to escape. “If you knew what was going through my mind right now, you wouldn't be saying that.”

It took all of my self-control not to move my hips restlessly, to keep myself from begging him for more. The washcloth scraped against my inner thigh, perilously close to the spot where I needed him most. If he didn't stop, I would beg him to take me, no matter how badly I wanted him to achieve his dreams. To take his vows. If he kept touching me…

None of that would matter.

“What are you thinking?” he demanded, his voice rough and raw. He skimmed the washcloth across my panties, moving to my other thigh. “Tell me everything.”

I shook my head rapidly, biting my tongue. “No. I can't.”

“Why not?” He moved closer, his chest brushing against my shoulders, and moved the washcloth higher. “Too scared to be honest?”

“I'm not scared,” I said quickly. “Not of you—or anyone.”

He bent down and ran the washcloth over my calves. Knowing his face was level with my ass and my pussy…God, it
did
things to me. I pressed my thighs together again, and he ran the washcloth up the seam that made between my legs, slowly straightening to his full height again. “That won't make you feel any less empty, Rose. Nothing will except me, filling you, taking you, touching you. Trust me. I would know.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped. “You're playing with me. We both know this isn't going anywhere. And you still didn't answer my question. Do you ever have any dirty—?”

“Instead of telling you, let me show you.” He splayed his hand across my belly and pulled me against his wet body. He was fully clothed, but it didn't detract from the fact that under those boring black khakis of his, he was hard as steel. “What do you think? Do I still have dirty thoughts, Rose?”

“Clearly,” I gasped. I dropped my head against his shoulder, and his hand crept lower. I held my breath, waiting to see just how low he'd go. “Thorn—God, yes.”

“Tell me what you're thinking about right now.”

Enough
. He was playing a game with me, and he thought he was in control. Thought he was toying with the idea of making me horny, and maybe he was under the impression that I was too scared to actually do anything about it. That I'd shy away, because he was “holy.” But I wasn't Catholic, and he wasn't actually a priest, so to me…

He was just Thorn.

The guy I wanted, the man I'd
loved
since I was a kid. I wouldn't cower at the idea of being with him. I would do anything, give up
anything,
to be with him. Even if it was only for a night. If he wanted me, well, then, he could
have
me. And I wouldn't tell a soul about it.

If he wanted…

I could be his dirty little secret.

Spinning in his arms, I made sure to back away from the water. Pressing my back against the cold tile, I grabbed his shirt. The water in the tub was up to my midcalf now. Letting my gaze dip down, I inhaled a deep breath. Through the black khakis he always wore, I could make out the shape of his hard cock, begging me to take it in my hand and show him just how good life on this side of the tracks could be. Because, God, I wanted to.

So fucking badly.

“I'm thinking you should put your mouth to better use, and make me come. I want your lips on me, and your tongue inside me, and I want to come so badly it hurts more than my wrist or my throat does.” I yanked him closer, till his body was pressed against mine, and even though the harsh movement should have hurt, I didn't feel pain. Just determination. “I think you should stop pretending you're so damn holy and take me already. Either that, or stop touching me, and we can pretend this never happened and go back to acting as if we didn't want to see each other naked. Your move,
priest
.”

He watched me, lips parted, eyes heated, and for the life of me…

I had no idea which option he'd choose.

So many arguments swam through my mind at light speed. Things like…

She looked so pretty standing there, almost naked, asking me to make her forget, but I couldn't do that. How had I gotten here, in this tub, with Rose Gallagher? She blinked at me, and seemed so vulnerable and alone, and there was no way I was going to be capable of walking away from her. I held on to the washcloth, blood racing through my veins.
Do it. Close the distance between you. Make her forget.

Shaking my head slightly, I stared at her, unsure of what to do. Where to go from here. I never should have let it get this far, my hands on her body, and these thoughts in my head. I knew I should stop. Walk out of that room before I did something we'd both regret. She wasn't mine to have. Wasn't mine to take. Not after what I'd done. Not after the pain I'd caused her.

But even so, my hand skimmed over her thigh, and the washcloth dropped to our feet. “You have no idea what you're asking me for. Who I am. What you're doing.”

Her breath escaped in a whoosh, and she hooked her leg around my thigh. “I bet I have a hell of a lot more of an idea what's going to happen than you do. It's been, what, almost eight years? You're practically a virgin again.”

The reminder should have been enough to cool my ardor, to make me back off. Instead, it made me want to prove her
wrong
. But still…the voice in the back of my mind wouldn't shut up, and it was telling me to back off, now, before it was too late.

That I couldn't touch her. Take her.
Fuck her
.

If I fell into this abyss, if I stopped trying to be
better,
and embraced the darkness inside of me like a long-lost friend, there was no telling how far I'd fall. And Rose was the one thing I could never allow myself to have. Not having her was my penance. My punishment. I couldn't give up on that. Couldn't be that selfish boy I'd once been.

I rolled my hips into her, letting myself enjoy her soft body pressed against my hard-on for a split second before I jerked back. “Show me what you like, Rose.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wh-what?”

“Touch yourself.” I skimmed my hand down her cheek, watching her pulse leap wildly at my words, and my touch. “I want to watch you come.
Now
.”

A nervous laugh escaped her, but her eyes flashed with excitement. “Seriously?”

“Like you said. Nothing wrong with admiring God's good work, right?”

Her eyes widened. “
I
don't think so, no. But you—”

“What's wrong?” I dropped my hand to my side, forcing myself to stay still. To not give in to my urges, no matter how hard it might be. “Too scared?”

The jab worked as expected. Anger flashed across her features, and she lowered her hand over herself, cupping her core. “I told you. I'm not scared of anything.”

I gripped her leg, making sure not to let my fingers climb too high. It might seem stupid, but I couldn't shake the belief that if I didn't touch her or myself, and I just watched her…that wasn't breaking any of my ironclad rules. I wasn't going back to that bad place I'd once basked in. “Prove it. Show me what makes you feel good.
I
need to see
.”

Understanding crossed her face, and she slipped her hand under her shirt. “How badly do you need it?”

“You'd never believe me.” I stepped closer, my attention locked on her hand under her shirt. I'd never wanted to burn an article of clothing so badly before. “I need you to lift your shirt. Show me what you're doing to yourself.”

She dropped her head back, bit her lip, and lowered her hand. Slowly, oh so slowly, she lifted her shirt, baring her pale, creamy flesh. Her waist was narrow, and I could make out every rib under her pale flesh. She had another rose tattoo, this one under her right breast, and I wanted nothing more than to trace it with my tongue.

It had only one thorn, just like her other rose tattoo.

Groaning, I lifted my hand, fully intending to touch it, but she clucked her tongue and dropped the shirt back into place. “Uh-uh. You said you wanted to watch, not touch. And I don't want to be a bad influence….”

“If you don't pull that damn shirt back up—” I gritted my teeth, letting my hand fall back to my side. It had never felt as empty as it did now. “Do it.
Now
.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she did as told, yanking it high enough that I could finally see the dusky pink buds on her breasts. Her nipples were hard and puckered, and it took every ounce of discipline in me not to grab her, smash her against the wall, kiss her, and take her hard and fast. Every. Damn. Ounce. But that's not what she needed, and it's not who I was. Or, that is, it's not who I was supposed to be now.

So I didn't move.

Didn't break.

She dragged her hand across her nipple, tugging on it. A small moan escaped her, and she pulled even harder. Her breath quickened, and mine sped up to match hers. She scratched her nails down her stomach, leaving a trail of red lines behind that made me forget all about the bruises on her neck, her breathing ragged.
“Thorn.”

“I'm here,” I said, my voice wavering. “Right here. Keep going. Don't you dare fucking stop.”

“You have no idea how many times I've pictured you doing this to me.” She curled her good hand over her core, moving her fingers in a circular motion as her lids drifted shut. Her splinted arm remained safely out of the water. “And this. God, when you touch me like this, in my head, I go crazy.”

“Don't. Don't you dare look away from me.” I slammed a hand by her head, leaning in, breathing in her scent, and locked gazes with her. “Rougher. Faster.
Now
.”

The force of her eyes latching on to mine as her hand moved faster affected me in ways no one ever had before. Not just the sexual act and the physical turn-on; it was as if it was actually
my
hand on her, and not her own.

As if we were connected somehow.

Which made no sense at all, and yet somehow did.

A strangled groan escaped me, and I dropped my forehead to meet hers, closing my hand around her biceps. It was the closest I could get to touching her, to making her come, without actually doing so. That was a line I couldn't cross, no matter how much I might want to. “I'll answer your earlier question, if you promise not to stop making yourself squirm.”

She nodded, her breath escaping in a whoosh as her fingers circled her clit. “I-I promise.”

“Yes. I have dirty thoughts. And yes, I wake up with my hand on my cock, and my breath coming out fast, seconds from orgasm. And every damn time, I talk myself down. Every damn time, I hold back, because it's what I'm supposed to do. Who I'm supposed to be.” I swallowed a moan and skimmed my finger over her damp skin. Her hand moved faster as I spoke, and I would have given anything to be that hand, just for a second. “And every time, it's you I see in my dreams. You I feel touching me. Kissing me. It's always you, Rose. It's always been.”

Her hand stopped, and her jaw dropped. “What?”

“I told you not to fucking stop,” I growled, my tone harder than steel. The second she started moving again, I lifted a hand and pressed my fingers against her mouth, dying for just a little taste of her. Just one little taste…“That's better. And, yes. It's always you. On top of me. Underneath me. It's always your sweet lips that are wrapped around me, driving me higher and higher until I want to explode, but I never get to. I never get to have you. It's torture.”

She arched her back, crying out. “Keep talking. God, don't stop.”

I sucked in a deep breath, seconds from orgasm myself, simply because she was whimpering louder, and her movements were growing jerkier, and it would be
so
easy to give in to those darker urges that had never fully left me, no matter what promises I had made, or what life I hoped to lead in my search for absolution.

I tightened my grip on her arm. “In my dreams, you make the hottest sound when you come. Let me hear you. I
need
to hear you.” I ran my knuckles over her cheekbones roughly. “And your cheeks are always flushed, your nipples hard, and your mouth wet…let me see it. I need to
see
it. Show me heaven. Come for me, my sweet Rose.” I skimmed my fingers over her shoulder and toward her breast, my breath hitching in my throat as her nipple puckered. Her skin was so soft. So creamy. “
Scream
for me.”

She cried out, her whole body collapsing against the wall. She was breathing heavily, her cheeks pink and her red lips parted, just like I'd always imagined. Her long brown hair framed her face, clinging to her damp skin, and she had an effervescence to her that I had never seen before. And the sound she made? Nothing was hotter than that.

I had to join her.

Had to
have
her.

Letting out a ragged moan, I pressed a hand to my cock, squeezing it until the pressure eased, trying to kill the need to bury myself inside of her. It didn't work. Nothing worked. She locked eyes with me, watching. Waiting. Moaning again, I squeezed harder, and gripped the button on my pants with my free hand.

The second I unbuttoned it, she was on her knees, splashing in the water at our feet. All it would take was me pulling down the zipper, and I could be buried inside her hot, tight, little—

Ring. Ring.

Behind her, my phone lit up, vibrating against the porcelain countertop of the vanity. I froze, my hand still on my cock, and glowered at it.
Ring. Ring.
I slammed my hand against the knob, turning off the water. The tub was almost overflowing, but the emergency drain had done its job and prevented the water from spilling over.

Running my hand through my hair, I let go of my erection and collapsed against the wall. “What have I done?”

She still watched me as if she ached to take my cock in her mouth and suck on it until I forgot what I was.
Who
I was. Until I forgot all about my promises to Mikey and went back to being the selfish boy I used to be. The one I swore to leave in the past. “So…uh…I guess we're done here, right?”

“I…yes.” My phone continued ringing, and I ignored it. I focused on her splinted arm instead. “I…I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry.” She stood up uncertainly, and I reached to catch her elbow, helping her to her feet. “It was fun…for me, anyway.”

“No. It was wrong.” I let go of her as soon as she was steady. “I'm supposed to be helping you, not…not…”

Her lips twitched. “Believe it or not? That was a huge help. I needed that more than I needed soft words and gentle touches. You know how Gallaghers are. We don't do soft. We take action, and that was the best action for me. I feel great now. How about you? How are you feeling?”

My cock ached with the need for relief, my soul longed for forgiveness even more than before, and I was even more uncertain of myself. Nothing in this world would stop me from wanting to watch her do that again. And again. And
again
. As often as she would let me.

That was the real kicker. I wanted her more than I wanted air, or light, or water. But I'd ensured I would never have her. Never touch her. Never know her like that. It was the nicest thing I'd ever done for someone else.

And the
hardest.

“No need to answer.” She pointed at me and bit her lip, right by her piercing. I'd have given anything to press my tongue against that spot. To taste her. “I can see it written on your face. You wish you could go back and do this whole thing over again. But you can't. What's done is done. There's no going back.”

I understood that more than she'd ever know. There were so many things I wished I could go back and change. The drugs. The sex. The way Mikey had died, and my role in it. The boy I'd been, before I became the man I was now. I would change that boy in two seconds flat, given the chance. I would change me. Make me
better
.

Maybe it was time to tell her the truth. If that didn't make her stay away from me, hate me, then
nothing
would.

“Stop looking so worried.” She tugged her wet shirt down more with her good hand. It did nothing to assuage the need I felt for her. It was a big, gaping, festering wound inside me. “I'm fine. You're fine. You didn't break any rules. It's all good, priest.”

I swallowed hard, trying my best not to focus on the fact that my body was begging for release, and grabbed a towel. I gently draped it over her, more to cover her than anything else. Her nipples were still hard, and it was killing me. “But that shouldn't have happened, for more reasons than one.”

She eyed my clerical collar. “I know the obvious, but what's the other reason?”

“Mikey. There's something you should know—”

She rolled her eyes. “In case you didn't notice, he's dead. He's no longer here to kick your ass for touching me, and more than likely? He wouldn't have given a damn, anyway. He accepted the fact that I was a girl, and that boys liked me, a hell of a lot easier than
you
did.”

Okay, she had a point there. A small one. “But I need to tell you—”

“No.” She held up her good hand. “Just shut up. Like I told you, I don't do regrets. You shouldn't, either. But I respect your desire to hold firm to your beliefs, and the second we walk out of this room, we can pretend this never happened. I'm sure we can both agree not to mention this small event again, and we're adult enough to make that happen. To forget you ever watched me like that—because that's
all
that happened. It's not like we had sex, or any naked body parts touched. You just watched.”

I swallowed. “You could forget it happened?” I adjusted my pants and rebuttoned them. “That easily?”

“It's not as if it's something that memorable.” She gave me a quick, appraising glance. “It was just me touching myself. I do it in the bath all the time.”