His chest went rigid until he couldn’t breathe as deeply as needed, but before he could have fled back to the parsonage, avoiding a confrontation he wasn’t ready for, Emil emerged from the church. The breeze combed its fingers through the hair at the top of his head, and when his gaze met Adam’s in the bright light of the late morning, a sly smile pulled at his sinful mouth.
He stepped toward Adam, without even a trace of embarrassment over last night. Adam felt as if a big boa constrictor slithered his way instead of a man—as hypnotizing as it was deadly.
Dressed in jeans tight enough to stir Adam’s imagination, calf-high combat boots and a dark-brown pilot’s jacket with a fur trim, he looked like the embodiment of casual sex-appeal. A James Dean for the modern age.
Adam’s heart bled when he realized the long black hair was tied back and couldn’t be swept by the breeze, but when the wind blew Emil’s scent straight at Adam, the realization that it was the same aroma he’d been sensing all along made Adam step back.
Last night came upon him in a flashback, and for a split second, he was back on the huge draft horse, his hands touching Emil’s firm chest, and his knees digging into the backs of Emil’s thighs. He never much liked wearing a cassock, but maybe the iconic priest’s garment could be his armor.
He’d become a priest because he couldn’t possibly lead an honest life at a woman’s side. He’d given his life to God, aware of everything that entailed, so why was Lord tempting him so? Was this a test, like the one unleashed on Job, and Adam would have to suffer greatly to prove his commitment?
His mouth dampened, as if he were smelling butter cookies in the oven, not a man who’d propositioned him last night, but by the time Emil got close, there was nowhere left to run. A voice at the back of his head told him something was off. How could he have smelled Emil back in the kitchen? The stupid part of his brain suggested the smell of roses and Father Pio, but Emil was hardly a saint.
“Hey there, Father Adam. Why didn’t you make a peep about this yesterday? Afraid I wouldn’t bite if I knew you were a priest?”
Even his voice was sweet. And interesting. And tempting. Like smooth dark chocolate infused with orange liquor.
Adam put the besom between them, in case Emil wanted to overstep the boundaries of personal space. “It wasn’t relevant. I asked for help, and you helped me. It had nothing to do with my priesthood.”
The harsh light had to be playing tricks on Adam, because he could swear that Emil’s fangs glinted in the sun. “I know how to keep secrets, Adam, and you’ll get bored here sooner or later.”
Fire burned at the pit of Adam’s stomach, heating his blood and sending it through his body. But he wasn’t an animal. He wouldn’t just follow his whims when they went against all reason and moral codes. “I try not to judge people who don’t share my beliefs, but this is not acceptable. I advise you to follow my example. And for the record, your jeans are far too tight to be appropriate in the house of God,” he said, though his palms sweated around the wooden handle.
“You noticed. Thank you.” Emil grinned and, with all the audacity of a fox storming a henhouse, he spread his arms and made a slow turn, showcasing how good his ass looked in those pants.
Adam felt the flush creeping up his neck and then emerging on his face like a banner of embarrassment, but he wouldn’t back down, and kept his eyes on Adam’s. “What’s the point of this?”
Emil grabbed the pole of the broom so close to Adam’s hand its heat scorched his skin. And it wasn’t just because of embarrassment, anger, or even the fact that he found Emil attractive. Throughout his life he’d found plenty of men attractive in some way and successfully ignored the urges they stirred, yet everything about Emil’s presence screamed for Adam to rip off his cassock and run naked through the meadow until they both collapsed in the grass and fucked like two wild beasts. He could see it as if it were real—Emil’s naked body gaining that orange-lilac shade of the sky at dusk, his flesh so ripe and tasty Adam’s mouth watered.
A silly grin spread Emil’s handsome mouth as he slowly slid his hand up and down the broom in a gesture clearly imitating the act of masturbation. “Oh, what do I not want, Father?”
“I am trying to politely ask about your presence here? You’re obviously not religious,” Adam said, trying his best to remain stern in the face of a temptation he had never experienced on this level.