Cantrell touched his rosary, the beads warm and smooth beneath his fingers. His mind flashed the image of them shoved in Illias’ mouth, coated in spit. In sin. Cantrell dropped his hand, banishing the image from his mind.
“It took many years for me to become who I am today. It frightens me to think about what I might do to you.”
“Would it change anything if I said I trust you?” From the tone of Illias’ voice, it sounded as though he rarely extended the olive branch casually.
“You…trust me?” Hesitancy laced Cantrell’s words.
“Why else would I be here?” Illias relaxed into the chair, crossing his arms as if to challenge Cantrell.
Some wicked part of him yearned to put Illias’ bratty ways to rest. Show him that he didn’t have to push to get his way but ask with manners. Teach him through discipline that left him teary eyed and bruised. Cantrell gripped his hands together in his lap, praying the thought would leave him. Wishing it did not feel like home to revisit that part of himself.
“It warms me to know that you trust me, but…” Cantrell frowned at the memories that surfaced. “You must know that I was not kind to my past partners.”
“I know my limits, and you know I’m mouthy.” Illias gave a small single-shouldered shrug. “So, I won’t have a problem telling you if something’s bothering me or if something’s too much.”
“If we are to continue.” Cantrell approached the idea with equal amounts of wariness and hunger. “There are certain precautions that must be taken.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
“One, is that thismustremain a secret. I can’t risk this becoming public. Which means we should remain polite but otherwise indifferent to each other outside of our meetings.” Years of experience with negotiation resurfaced in a heartbeat. Taking shape in his mouth and easing his jumpy nerves. “Second, you should be aware that this may not get as physical as you are used to, given my vows. Lastly, you must tell me if any of this goes too far.”
“Deal,” Illias said with an easy smile as though nothing worried him.
“You understand what you’re agreeing to, yes?” Cantrell stood, then walked around the desk and leaned against the desk in front of Illias.
The position forced Illias to tilt his head back to look at Cantrell. Sinful heat curled through him. He welcomed it, letting it sit warm and heavy in his core. He didn’t understand what it was about Illias that made it so easy to shrug off the apprehension and shame Cantrell felt for years. Or why he couldn’t control the way his heart raced when they met each other’s eyes from across the nave during Mass. But it had been such a long time since someone made him feel this way. Made him ache with want so badly it hurtbone deep.
“Yes,” Illias rasped.
Cantrell took a finger and traced Illias’ jawline until it rested right below his chin. Tilted his head back until there was a slight strain in his neck muscles. A soft whimper sounded from his tanned throat. A sound that nearly undid Cantrell’s resolve completely.
“You are so pretty when you blush,” he murmured. “Just how far down does it go?” He trailed his finger in a straight line down the center of Illias’ neck until it caught on the collar of his button down.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Illias went to lower his head.
“Ah, ah.” He tapped Illias’ chin. “Chin up, I didn’t say you could move.”
He rolled his eyes but resumed the previous position. “That’s not fair.”
“Who said anything about playing fair?” Cantrell wrapped his hand around Illias’ throat, pleased with how Illias’ pulse quickened. “One thing you should learn, and fast, is that I don’t play fair.”
Three sharp knocks pierced through the office. Cantrell snatched his hand away, heart pounding in his ears. Illias dropped his head into a neutral position before Cantrell stepped over to the door. Praying that he didn’t look as hot as he felt, Cantrell opened the door.
“My apologies, Cantrell, I didn’t realize you were still busy,” Rier lied, eyes immediately finding Illias’ over Cantrell’s shoulder.
“It’s fine, Illias was just leaving.” Cantrell stepped to the side. Illias stood then crossed the short distance from chair to door. “Have a blessed day, my child.” Cantrell grimaced internally, wishing he had chosen a different term to refer to Illias.
“Thank you, Father. Have a good evening.”
Cantrell listened to Illias’ footsteps echo through the stairwell then through the nave until there was silence in the air. Rier looked at Cantrell long and hard. Eyes narrowed, eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. He lifted his head, peering down his nose at Cantrell.
“Care to explain why you and that man were conversing privately?” Rier spat.
“It was nothing.” Cantrell hoped the thud of his heart against his ribcage wasn’t audible. “Illias simply asked if he could speak to me privately regarding some family issues he’s been having as of late.”
Rier made a deep, disgruntled noise. “Be careful who you speak to in private, brother. It may cause rumors to spark.”
Cantrell’s chest burned. “What are you implying, Rier?”
