Sweetest Sin: A Forbidden Priest Romance (11 page)

Benjamin didn’t
have the strength to sit for his anointing.

The nurses called
it a
bad day
. They were being polite. He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t shaved,
and he lost weight since I last saw him.

In becoming a
priest, we didn’t just take a vow of celibacy. We sacrificed the opportunity to
begin a family. While we gained the love of a community and inspiration from
the church, when it came time to pass—we’d have no wife at our side, no
children, no grandchildren.

Yes, there was a Godliness
in suffering, but this man had served his Lord. He lived his life for the
church and even took in a runaway teenage boy who needed a home.

And he gave me
more than a home.

He gave me the
priesthood.

He
rescued
me.

And I would not
have him die, bedridden and useless, sucking on oxygen alone—even if he had the
comfort of Christ. The Lord loved him, but so did I.

I wasn’t ready to
let him go.

“This festival…”
Benjamin waved a hand over the papers I’d spread across his bed. “What are you
doing with this monstrosity, Rafe?”

God only knew. I
didn’t have an answer.

I rubbed my
forehead, narrowly missing my eye with the pen. That might have woken me up.

I was exhausted. I
hadn’t slept well the past few days. Or at all.

Men were
instructed to face their fears.

But facing
temptation? That took courage, strength, and mental fortitude. On Saturday, I’d
worked hand-in-hand with Honor, breathing her scent and brushing her fingers,
all while the women’s group, youth group, and church volunteers helped to
prepare for the festival.

Then Mass.

As if I weren’t
already thankful for my Holy Orders, the prayers and ritual distracted me from
Honor’s singing. Beautiful words. A blessed voice rising over the choir. The
hymns and chants blended the celebration into something secret for me.

I’d fallen into
fitful sleep thinking of her. Dreaming of her.

And I woke as
every man woke, eager for a warm body at my side.

Cold showers did
little once the body broke after exhaustion. I’d allowed myself three strokes
of my hardness in the shower this morning, then I denied the pleasure. That
left me frustrated. Impatient.

At least Honor
felt the same. Her texts this morning teased me, blaming me for her equally
disturbed night’s sleep. I liked that I lingered in her fantasies, but playful
texts were nothing compared to the pleasure of meeting her in the church.
There, she so often turned shy. There, her thoughts truly twisted.

Dangerous
games…but our kiss had returned her confidence. She’d taken the Host during
Mass. Her sweet mouth had parted, and she offered that pink tongue for me to
place the body of the Lord.

What blasphemy to
envy Christ.

Benjamin coughed.
The fluid built in his lungs, and he hacked hard.

I flinched as if
he read my mind. The papers nearly scattered. I gathered them before they fell.

“This is the
deacon’s work, Rafe. And the volunteers.” Benjamin didn’t wave a finger, but I
accepted the chastisement. “Why are you working on this? You’re too busy with
other responsibilities. How many homilies do you have to write?”

Too many. “I only
had a baptism today. Light schedule.”

“You’ve always
turned to projects to stay busy, when you should turn to the Lord instead.”

“I’m not—”

“What are you
sorting through now?”

He’d never believe
it.

“Festival
politics. We doubled our festival size from last year. Now we have craft and
food booths, community businesses, and other vendors setting up, including two
ladies selling cosmetics. One of the cosmetics vendors applied for their spot
when we first posted sign-ups. We gave it to her. Then…another vendor applied,
but the cosmetic company only allows one booth of their products per event.”

Benjamin flicked
his IV. “Can we speed this cancer up?”

I smirked. “Well,
Judy knew the second vendor from previous festivals. I guess there was some
sort of drama—”

“—Imagine that—”

“The spot went to
the vendor who signed up late. Now it’s causing an issue, and I’m—”

“They needed a
priest
to mediate?”

“You’d be
surprised how…combative they’ve become.”

“Rafe, you aren’t
really
—”

“It’s my parish,
Father. I’m putting out fires.”

“You have greater
responsibilities.”

“I know.”

“They’re more important
than the festival—which your
volunteers
can handle.” Benjamin shifted.
“And your duties are more important than visiting a dying man.”

“Don’t use that
word.”

“Have some
humility, Rafe.
We prefer to leave this body and be at home with the Lord
.
I’m ready, my boy. What did I teach you?”

I knew the
scripture, but I delayed speaking it. “
A good name is better than fine
perfume, and the day of death better than the day of birth.”

“I’ve shown you
all I can. The Lord will show you the rest.” Benjamin rested his eyes.
“Unless…you have reason to come here, something more pressing than comforting a
man preparing to leave this earth?”

“No, Father.”

“You have no
reason, or you are unwilling to speak it?”

I was unwilling to
confess
it. If I had anything to confess. In my heart, I did what was
right, what I had to do to face my sins.

Good men prayed,
others distracted themselves in repetitive prayer, and some lost courage and
fled. If I was to be tempted, I would be tempted and face it as a man, a vessel
of the Lord, and a warrior.

But my desires
damned me.

I knew I would
kiss her again. We
wanted
to taste each other once more. But in recognizing
it, confessing it to
myself
, gave me more power over the wicked thoughts.
I’d confess if I lost control.

Until then, my
sins were my own, and my triumphs belonged to Honor.

“I’m fine,
Father,” I said. “Just worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” He
pointed to the papers. “Pack this up, hand it to whoever is organizing your
festival, and spend an hour in prayer—
deep prayer
, Rafe. No phones, no
interruptions, no mourning. Clear your mind and heart, and you’ll feel
rejuvenated.”

A man could hope.

Or pray.

I gathered my
things, squeezing his hand before I left. I’d see him again before it was
time…but the opportunities were dwindling. It wouldn’t be long.

And thoughts like
that forced me into prayer. I could face temptation. I could confront my sins.
I could kiss the most beautiful angel God had created.

But I couldn’t
combat death.

Nor should I have
wanted to, not when I believed his soul would never eternally die. Benjamin
would simply leave me behind.

Alone
.

But his presence
would remain within me—in his teachings, his lessons, in how he’d shown me to
conduct myself, in the way he’d help me to celebrate the Mass. I hadn’t needed
him to guide me in years, but it wasn’t the future that concerned me.

It was the past.

The wounds he
guarded.

The life I used to
have.

The pain I traded
for salvation.

I returned to the
church in the mid-afternoon, just in time for an emergency adultery confession
which necessitated a hastily scheduled wedding. The secretary scheduled the
appropriate counseling for the soon-to-be married couple and parents, and I
surveyed the diocese paperwork and readings in my email.

Benjamin asked me
to pray for an hour. I wished I could. Even during my visit with him, I had
resolved four crises, answered a dozen emails, and sent a flurry of texts. I
knew it was foolish to try and pray during my busiest time of the day. I managed
five minutes before the lock-in at St. Cecilia’s middle school had to be
rescheduled and my phone rang with another festival emergency.

I didn’t have time
for lunch, let alone an opportunity to pray.

Or sin.

At least, not
until later.

The women’s club
scheduled the festival meeting for five o’clock.

Honor arrived at
four-thirty.

My angel sent from
Heaven to trap me within a private Hell of pleasure and penance. She knocked
softly at the door to my office. I called her inside, and the thick wooden
doors closed behind her. The click of the latch echoed in our silence.

We were alone.

What a wicked
thrill.

Honor had gained
confidence after our kiss, after spending time with me during the last festival
meeting. She knew it was possible to acknowledge our desire but deny our needs,
except Honor still approached me with caution. She’d trust herself in time.

I sat behind my
desk, the L-shaped, cherry wood monstrosity. It was clean and orderly, almost
sparse. I took care to stay organized, another aspect of pure discipline that
took as much mindful care as my physical weaknesses. I didn’t stand to greet
her.

Like any wild
creature, I let her come to me.

Bookshelves
spanned the room. Honor studied the hardbound texts with a curious gaze.

“These aren’t all
Bibles,” she said.

“No.”

“And they aren’t
all religious?”

“No.”

Her elegant
fingers tickled the spine of a few—Shakespeare, Bronte, Joyce, Austen, Dickens,
Twain…Rowling.

“Would you like to
borrow one?” I asked. “Idle hands and minds...”

She smiled, those
perfectly full lips twisting as she shook her head. “Maybe if I had the time. I
have enough coursework to read. Plus, I downloaded a ton of books to my Kindle
before it broke. I still need to get a new one...” Her smile faded. “Well, I’ll
get it when we have the money.”

I recognized her
tone—a shred of optimism that stretched too thin over the bitter realism she
tried to hide. I knew enough about her family, more than I felt was
right
to know given the circumstances and her secrecy on the matter. My heart ached
for her.

And yet…a deeper,
more possessive and dangerous feeling welled in me.

Protectiveness
.

I wanted to return
her happiness. I’d shelter her so she wouldn’t need to hide that pain and the
problems that forced her to take on multiple jobs after transferring colleges.
I wondered if she realized her mother’s name was listed on a variety of our
charity programs.

But what could I
do? Honor had refused help before, and her pride was as great a sin as lust.

I should’ve asked
to help as many times as I could until she accepted it. With any other parishioner,
any other time, I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. With her? She’d hit
rock bottom before she accepted my offered hand.

I pulled three
menus from my drawer and tossed them over my desk.

“Pizza, Chinese,
or burgers tonight?” I tipped the scales in favor of the pizza, pushing it
towards the end of the desk with an arched eyebrow. “My treat for the
volunteers tonight.”

“Pizza.” She took
the bait and sat. “And you’re kind to do this.”

“I’m taking care
of my flock. If they happen to be sated with pepperoni, all the better.”

She smirked,
though her attention still fell beyond me, the menu, the books. She studied the
office and distracted herself with the strap of her purse. Her foot nervously
kicked the leg of the chair.

Unacceptable. I
hated that she was uncomfortable.

“Honor…” Her named
tasted sweet. “Look at me.”

“Father, we should
get to the meeting—”

“Look at me.”

Her thick, dark
lashes fluttered, and her hazelnut eyes met my gaze so fiercely, so intently, I
couldn’t contain the heat within me. I wasn’t prepared for her beauty, and sin
immediately hardened me.

I chastised
myself. Benjamin was right. I should have prayed. For control. For stability.

For my cock to
stop throbbing so near this beautiful, amazing woman.

And yet, she
suffered too. She licked her quivering lip.

Did she mean to
speak…or to bait me into another kiss? Could I be so bold when my body was already
wracked with its own perverse shudders?

It was a test. One
of many to come.

And, for the first
time, I feared what might happen if I were to fail.

“Are you afraid, my
angel?” I lowered my voice. It had the desired effect, trapping her in devout
attention to my words, my mood, my will.