I close my eyes against her cheek, our faces pressed together, our skin slick with sweat.
Our breathing is heavy, as if we just ran from the world, holding hands together. I can’t pull away. For some reason that terrifies me, and I must still because her soft voice soothes.
“Are you okay, Joseph?”
I tighten my grip, reluctant to destroy the moment with mere words, and as she gasps, it reminds me of my strength as I crush her beneath my attention.
“I’m sorry.”
My ragged breath accompanies my withdrawal; my mind shifting to business, always to business – shutting emotion down.
As I roll onto my back, I stare at the white ceiling, an empty space I am used to.
“I–”
She is struggling for words, and I certainly don’t have any as my mind processes what just happened.
It’s as if I lost control for a second. I was free even. The weight shifted, and nothing mattered but pleasure.
She whispers, “I’ll, um, well, clean up, perhaps.”
I hate how nervous she sounds, upset even, and I push myself aside and turn to face her, reaching out and trailing my fingers down her gorgeous face.
“You are perfect, Tiffany, and I appreciate what you gave me.”
She blinks, her lower lip trembling as the enormity of what just happened hits her.
“I don’t know what came over me.”
Guilt is riding shotgun on her emotions right now, leaving me feeling like the biggest bastard alive—not for the first time, if I’m honest.
“Come here.”
I inject some warmth into my smile and pull her close, my arm circling her shoulders as I pull her head down to my chest, allowing my fingers to lazily play with her hair, creating a moment of intimacy, reassuring her because she deserves to feel special after what she just gave me.
I drop a kiss on her head and say huskily, “That must have been difficult for you to give me something you have protected for so long.”
“I never protected anything. I just never found anyone who wanted it. Wanted me.”
Her words are empty, hollow even, and I recognize them.
It’s hard being alone, and I say gently, “But you have your sisters. The other nuns. Surely, they want you as a sister, a friend, a like-minded soul even.”
“What about you, Joseph?”
I don’t miss how skillfully she changes the focus of my attention away from her, which intrigues me.
“You have brothers, a family even, but you choose to live here alone, protected in a house that appears to have no life in it.”
“We are alike, Tiffany. You choose to live in a convent that I’m guessing has no life in it other than the waiting room for death. You can’t judge me by your own standards because you have your reasons and I have mine.”
“And pain, Joseph. You hold a lot of pain that you can only deal with through more pain. Have you ever talked to anyone about that?”
“A shrink?”
“Or your family.”
“That’s an amusing thought, princess. Reserve judgment until you’ve met them.”
