Violent spasms rocketed my entire world as he swiped the tingly spot again, arousal soaking my slit and seeping out of my skin, his lips growing feverish as he worked against me. My body arched into him, needing a release only he could give.
Desperate for more of him, desperate for him to need me like I did him at this moment.
Maybe we could have just this.
Bastien and me.
Together.
Forget the rest.
I loved him so much, and I hated myself for it. The more we kept our secret from the world, the more my heart withered and died.
A soft moan simpered past my lips when the edge of his thumb worked under the elastic of my panties. Tentatively, his finger swept at the moisture between my legs, before his thumb and his tongue pressed farther, probed deeper, elicited quiet moans and mewls from my mouth. My thighs began quaking as he rubbed me until stars burst behind my eyelids.
His tender fingers swept at my core, sliding out of my panties lovingly as he pecked tiny kisses across the bow of my lips, cheeks, and temples. Doting on me sweetly, eyes filled with warm honesty.
A slow breath overtook me when both of his hands cupped my cheeks, the evidence of my pleasure glistening on the pad of his thumb.
Tears pricked at my eyelids when I realized we would never have this again.
This would be it.
Tonight, I would go back to my tiny cottage and submit more applications. And then, hopefully, tomorrow I could work up the courage to tell him I was leaving.
But for now, we had our own forbidden brand of perfection.
“I’ve been dreaming of that look on your face—the soft blush that says you just came beneath my fingertips.” His thumb traced my cheeks. “Sweet, rosy halos of wicked rapture.”
My forehead pressed at his shoulder, thighs still quivering from the aftershocks of my orgasm.
The orgasm Father Bastien had graced me with.
A sigh, equal parts contentment and guilt, settled over me.
I did my best to push back the old dogmatic cycle of shame and guilt. But still, its presence in my life was real and alive and to be reckoned with at every unfortunate opportunity.
Like this one.
With Bastien’s lips against my neck.
“I want to do it again.” His fingers tangled with mine as he pulled me from my place on the wooden chair, energy coursing through his taut muscles. “Only a fool would think a sip could chase you out of the system.” He pulled me against the hard wall of his body. “The joke’s always been on me.” His lips worked against mine, tongue sweeping at my insides and sending waves of pleasure through me. “Because one taste and I’m addicted to you, sweet dove.” His fingers looped with mine, and sliding through the shadows of St. Michael’s, Bastien walked me down the long hallway and past the nursery where Lucy was already finished picking up, lights dim and door closed.
“She’s a hard worker. You should hire her full time.”
“But I have you.” The rasp in his tone chugged like honey through my veins.
“Not forever.”
He opened the door of the rectory and flipped on the kitchen light. “Not if I can help it.”
Brightly lit white walls reflected like a spotlight on our locked hands, hearts hammering in unison as the pleasure he’d just given me raged within me.
Bastien paused in the middle of the kitchen, faded linoleum under his polished leather shoes.
I gulped when his fingers unlaced from my mine, and we stepped back into reality.
We hadn’t been gone long.
