I gently extracted myself from her, trying not to wake her. Her pretty eyes flickered open and looked at me, but they didn’t really focus. She rolled over to face the couch as I got up. I looked down at her fully dressed and sound asleep and I thought I never saw anyone or anything that looked that good.
“I have to get ready to go to the church,” I said, not knowing if she would hear me or process it or not. She didn’t say anything, but I still didn’t move. God, she’s beautiful. My hands itched to touch her. I looked down at myself still dressed in my jeans. There was a tent in the front of them. I didn’t want her to see me like that.
I forced myself to turn away and go down the hall to the shower. I was becoming an expert at the early morning cold shower, but even as I stood underneath the cold and uncomfortable spray, the desire for that sexy woman on my couch was not going away.
I picked up where I left off with the fantasy, only in my mind when I woke up, we were both naked and my hands were roaming across smooth, bare skin. God, she feels so good.
I closed my eyes as the cold water ran down my back and I could feel her. My hands tingled, my breaths quickened, and my cock was not going down. Damn! I cannot go do mass with a hard-on. I’m pretty sure God wouldn’t easily forgive that.
I tried all of the tricks in the book. I pictured my grandmother and my brothers and still, there was Daphne in the background. Finally, I closed my eyes hard and pictured the Bishop, looking at me with a tent in my cassock and shaking his head. That worked. I deflated almost instantly.
I finished my shower, and after shaving and dressing, I went back out to the living room. She was still asleep. Her soft blonde hair covered most of her face, but her curves were way too apparent. I had to get out of there before I got another rise.
I grabbed my keys and slipped out. I’m on my way to do a Catholic Mass with nothing but making love to a sexy woman on my mind. God, what the hell is wrong with me?
Chapter Thirty-Six
Daphne
I want this man more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I need him…more than air…more than water. He wants me, too. Daphne with the abusive father and the non-existent mother and the go-nowhere job…he wants me.
His body is sculpted like an athlete. His features are more perfect that the most famous movie star. He’s smart and funny and charming.
I’m nobody…just Daphne who wore rags to school and spent most of my life trying not to be noticed. If they noticed, they would ask questions and then they would judge. He doesn’t judge me, though. He knows about my father, at least some of it, and he still looks at me with some sort of awe in his eyes.
He whispers to me how much he loves me as he kisses my lips and my neck. He strokes my cheek and tells me how beautiful I am and how much he wants me.
I sit perfectly still as he undresses me, following each button with a kiss, all the way down to my mid-section. I willingly let him slide off my blouse and I take deep breaths as I feel his hands slide around behind me and unhook my bra.
He gazes down on my naked breasts with adoration before bringing his lips down to them. Oh my gosh…he’s licking my nipples and he’s sucking on them. I’m so wet and I want him to touch me between my legs so badly.
When he looks at me, there is no denying that he is falling in love with me — the same as I am with him. His smile is so sexy, and I can’t wait a moment longer.
I propel myself into his strong arms and I kiss him, long and slow and deep. He plunges his tongue into my mouth and mine slides against his. I swirl mine around inside of his mouth and he tastes like peppermint and chocolate. I run my hands up and twist them up in his soft hair.
His hands are all over my body. They’re about to touch me in my center, the place that was burning out of control with need for him….
And then, my nightmare began. My phone is ringing — where is it? Why won’t it stop ringing? I just want to be left alone…with him.
It took me almost a full minute before I could process that it wasn’t the phone, it was my alarm. It was time to get up and I’d had another long, wet dream about Jace. I’d had one every day that week, and when I woke up, I was sweating and panting and sometimes my hand was in my panties.
My mind wanted to go back to that Saturday night, falling asleep cocooned in his arms, breathing in his scent, feeling his body against mine. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop dreaming about him.
I wanted him like I’ve never wanted anything in my life and I didn't know how much longer I could go on pretending to just be his friend. No, that’s not true. I did know: I couldn't do it any longer. The whole time I was with him, all I could think about is how he feels and how he tastes and how badly I want to taste and feel him.
I can’t pretend any longer that I’m just his friend. I want so much more that that; I want it all.
I know that he’s a priest. But, he came on to me first. He looks at me like he wants so much more, and when he talks about the priesthood, there is no conviction behind it.
What if he does want me as badly as he does in my dreams? What if he’s holding back, afraid if he gives up his vocation that I won’t want him? Maybe I should tell him. Maybe if I just tell him how much I love him and want him…then maybe we can at least move forward, one way or the other.
I got out of bed and took my usual cold shower. Even if he says no like he did before, at least I’ll know and I can start trying to move on. I can’t do that with this pretend friendship we’ve got going on. It’s his way of being around me because he’s incredibly attracted to me, too.
I can see it on his face; I can feel it when we’re alone in a room. I can hear it in his voice when we talk. He can deny it if he wants to, but I know he wants me.
A
fter I got dressed, I did the only thing I knew to do that would ensure us a quiet, private, calm conversation: I went to confession.