Love in Purgatory (De La Fuente Family 2)

He smiled and she sensed a slight hesitation in him. He seemed relaxed as he ate his breakfast, but there was something that she couldn’t put her finger on. “Is everything okay?”

He paused with a slice of French toast on the way to his mouth, which he dropped back to his plate. “After what happened on the sofa, I’m nervous...and the need in me to be with you completely for the rest of our lives is very close to the surface.” He had paled while he spoke, which worried her and brought tears to her eyes when he continued, “I have to give a sermon today about sin and absolution, while I sin on a daily basis, with thoughts of you...and there is nothing innocent about them.”

A long silence followed while Dante seemed lost in thoughts of his own, and Emelia wondered whether she’d ever get the opportunity to spend her life with the man she loved.

He loved being part of the Catholic Church and that was clear for anyone to see. That would be why the people of Frederick loved and respected him. He gave his all for the people that relied on him.

“We need to leave,” he announced, and made her jump.

She caught her breath to steady her heart as the thoughts shifted to the feel of Dante under her hands. Her mind wouldn’t let her forget how he felt against her when she’d stroked his torrid flesh or how he tasted when he’d released into her mouth. He’d been even more beautiful then. Since that night, a pulse had throbbed insistently between her thighs.

“Emelia,” Dante growled.

Her eyes snapped to him by the door and she realized she’d been caressing him with her eyes. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, and his whole body was riddled with tension as she finally let her eyes rest on his groin and the huge bulge that twitched and grew even larger before her eyes.

“I need to put a handful of snow in my pants,” he mumbled.

Emelia blinked and then started laughing as she walked toward him. “I wouldn’t mind putting the snow down for you,” she chuckled, “after all, it was the, um, hardness in them that had me lost in memory.”

He quickly pulled his jacket on but wouldn’t meet her gaze.

She wouldn’t be ignored, even though she sensed he needed to ignore her to keep himself in check.

Against her better judgment, she teased, “I was remembering how arousing it was to run my fingers over your hard flesh...how much you made me tingle and throb between my thighs when you spilled your seed into my mouth.”

“Fucking hell,” he roared, and slammed out of the house.

Well, that was a reaction.

She frowned and bit her lip as she slipped into her own jacket and followed him outside. Second thoughts had hit her the minute he’d cursed, and then misery set in.

Dante walked in front of her mumbling to himself, and the bits she caught reminded her of a prayer she’d once been taught that asked for absolution—to be set free of all sins.

She should have kept her mouth closed.

Knowing that Dante felt the same about her as she did him, and after what they’d done on the sofa the night before, had given her the confidence to tease him. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought of doing before.

He was a Catholic priest who believed in what he’d agreed to do many years before, and because of her, he was being pulled in two directions.

As she stepped through the doors of the church, she realized that she had to be the one to walk away. She had to be the one to make the decision for them both. She would listen to his sermon one last time, and make the most of her last day with him without causing him to break one of his vows, and then, tomorrow, she would fly to Diego in New York.

Helping herself to coffee and a chocolate chip cookie, Emelia became overwhelmed with sadness and sighed heavily into her cup. She didn’t look up when she felt Dante’s eyes on her, and she had felt his gaze since they’d come into the hall after Mass. If she met his gaze, she wouldn’t be able to hide her emotions and would probably give away her true feelings for him. She couldn’t let that happen.

“So,” a man she didn’t know drawled, “you’re the priest’s sister?” He gave her a once over, and his eyes showed that he liked what he saw.

He appeared harmless, so she smiled and introduced herself, “Emelia De La Fuente.” She held her hand out to him.

“Sean Miller.” He shook her hand and lingered, tightening when she tried to pull her hand free.

“I’m new in town, but I sure wouldn’t mind you as a tour guide.”

She smiled. “Sorry, I’m planning on heading out tomorrow.”

“Anywhere warmer?” He grinned.

“New York.”

He looked disappointed. “You live in New York?”