Priests were supposed to be trustworthy, yet I placed my body and my heart in the care of the man beneath the cassock. Because I trusted his openness, related to it, found comfort in it. Because there was no shame in his kiss. Only raw desire and love.
The unbearable heat clung to my skin. Sweat and arousal slicked my inner thighs. And my breaths coalesced with his, forming a swelter of gasps against our faces.
I lifted my hips, encouraging the thrust of his fingers. “Harder. I won’t break.”
He dragged his lips over my jaw, his whiskers scratchy and damp. “No, but I will.”
My chest collapsed, twisting with lust and hope and the pang of resentment that refused to let go.
His fingers eased from inside me, trembling as he buttoned my cutoffs. Guess that meant we were done.
As I debated the selfishness in pushing for more, the tease that was Roark moved in, so close his lips brushed my face. “We’ll finish this later. Our visitor looks as pained as the back of me bollix.”
Visitor? I spun around and peered through the holes of a tall cage.
Jesse stood inside the doorway, fingers clenched around the bow strap that crossed his chest. His discomfort was palpable in the hunch of his shoulders, the hollows of his cheeks, the shadow of his furrowed brow, and the taut slash of his mouth.
But I also recognized arousal. It hooded his eyes as he watched me move around the cage. It staggered his inhale as I approached, holding his gaze. It made me feel bolder, more decisive, as I raised a hand and placed my palm over his rigid jaw.
My insides throbbed, pooling heat to my center, left unsatisfied by Roark and now focused on the man before me.
His nostrils flared, his eyes burning me from the inside out. “Shea’s ready to see an aphid. I need you.” He turned and walked out, tossing over his shoulder, “Southeast tree line.”
I sighed. Yeah, he needed me. To beckon an aphid, to control it so Shea could get a good look, to prepare her for weapons training, or whatever the task list might be. But to demand he needed me for himself? That went against his martyrdom. If he did lose the battle, he would survive, but how badly would he get hurt in the process? He was strong enough to endure my death, if it came to that. But was he strong enough to withstand the guilt?
Roark’s hand rested against my spine, his body a furnace beside mine.
I turned my neck and kissed his shoulder. “How long was he here?”
“The entire time. He’s a perv, that one.”
“Says the priest with pussy juice on his fingers.”
He popped two in his mouth and licked them clean, grinning.
What a troublemaker. He’d shoved those fingers inside me, knowing Jesse was watching.
I grabbed the carbine from the floor and walked to the door. “You need to stop taunting him. He’s struggling enough as it is.”
Matching my strides, he squinted against the sun’s glare and laced his fingers with mine. “His struggle is headed toward a desperate end, Evie. I want to be there when it happens.”
I pushed sweat-soaked hair from my face. “Why?”
Was he afraid Jesse would take me forcefully?
He shrugged. “I like to watch.”
A snarl sounded deep in the woods, punctuating the waspy buzz soughing through my insides.
I’d walked here to summon an aphid, and my heightened senses instantly latched onto one without effort, tracing a direct line to its location. “Five o’clock. About forty yards in, headed our way.”
Jesse strode from Shea’s side and paced toward me with determined steps, his hand already on his bow, sliding it off his perfect shoulders. “How many?”
Despite his nap earlier, dark bruises smudged his eyes. He carried himself with a high degree of intensity and strength, but the stiffness in his face and arms marked his fatigue. He was going to get some sleep tonight, even if I had to knock him out to make that happen.
“One aphid.” I reached out with my mind, probing the vicinity for more. “I’ll try to isolate it if others show up.”
I glanced at Shea, taking in her restless hands and tense shoulders. I’d killed hundreds if not thousands of these nasty things, but watching someone lay their eyes on one for the first time was like experiencing my first all over again. The bulbous head, cricket-like legs, sucking mouthparts, and the putrid stink of lizard skin were unnerving enough. But the twitchy, inhuman way they moved could make a grown man—as Roark would say—pass a motion in his knickers.
So yeah, my heart pounded and my palms slicked with sweat in anticipation of reliving that day in my backyard, when my first aphid encounter ended in a terrifying struggle at the bottom of my pool.
Jesse reached for the handgun on my thigh, and I gripped his arm, stopping him.