The hallway narrows.The church narrows.The entire fucking world collapses into a single gravitational pull between us — irresistible, terrifying, inevitable.
I move toward her.
Because whatever waits in this hallway tonight—temptation, sin, danger — I’m done pretending I can avoid it.
I walk straight into it.Straight into her.
Cornered Between Shadows and Sin
She senses me.
The moment it hits her, I see it.
She slowly turns, appearing unriddled, as if she stands confidently alone in a dark hallway with the man who nearly broke her last night.
But I see through every lie stitched across her expression.
Her eyes flicker when they meet mine—just for a second—but it’s enough. That tiny crack slices through both of us, exposing everything we pretend isn’t there.
I step closer.
Not enough to touch her.Enough to make her feel it.
The air thickens between us, heavy with everything unsaid — everything we shouldn’t want,everything I swore I’d never fucking do again.
“Why were you in the south corridor today?” My voice is low, controlled.
Not priest-soft.
Threat-soft.
She knows the difference.
She lifts her chin, hiding fear behind irritation—the sharp, practiced kind she wears like armor.
“I was helping with supply inventory.”
A lie.A clumsy one.
The truth vibrates under her skin like a second heartbeat.
I take another step.
She backs up—not far, just enough for her shoulder blades to meet the wall. Her breath stutters, and the sound punches straight through my restraint.
Because her scent hits me—warm skin, soft perfume, something sweet and wholly out of place in a church. It drags heat through my chest like claws.
I lift my hand—slow, deliberate—and brace it against the wall beside her head, caging her in.
Her pulse jumps.Visibly.Irresistibly.
And still she keeps her chin high, her glare locked on mine like she’s daring me to push harder.
“You don’t belong here,” I say, voice scraping low.
Her gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second.
A fucking lethal fraction.
