Priest (A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Love Story) (7 page)

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

JACE

I sat there for a long time after Daphne
left, pondering my own demise. It was bad enough that I had had sex. Not much
was going to trump that, unless someday I decided to commit murder.
Dear God, forgive me for that thought. I was
kidding, and it was completely inappropriate. She’s right. What kind of priest
am I?

I just couldn’t believe that she was part
of my church. Of all of the women I could have messed up with, I had to choose
one that was an active part of the church…and it sounded like she’d been a
virgin. How the hell did I not notice that?

Sorry,
Lord; I didn’t mean to sit in the confessional and cuss. I didn’t mean to get
drunk, and I didn’t mean to have sex. I didn’t mean to yell at the beautiful
young woman that I’d duped into giving her virginity to a priest
.

God, it just gets worse and worse. I had to
talk to someone. I’d blurted it all out and tried to get some kind of sympathy
from my brothers that day we had lunch, or at the very least, words of wisdom.

Once they recovered from the shock, Ryan
thought it was back slapping and sordid details time. When he found out I
wasn’t bragging, he lost interest. Max just kept looking at me with that
serious big brother look he gets on his face when he’s worried. I’d felt sick
as soon as I said it out loud and quickly found an excuse to leave.

I knew who I needed to talk to. The one
person who would always forgive me, but never let me get away with anything:
Grandma. I spent another hour listening to confessions and then left and drove
into Boston. When I got to Grandma’s gravesite, I saw that she had fresh flowers
all over it. It looked like Rye and Max had been there recently, too.

“Hey, Grandma. I hope that you’re dancing
happily in the Promised Land. I know if anyone deserved to go to Heaven, it’s
you. I sure do miss you, though. I miss you so much that my chest hurts all the
time. I don’t know what to do without you.

“I screwed up so badly. It’s so bad that I
don’t know how to fix it, or if there is any way to fix it. I got drunk and I
had sex…” I shuddered. It was the first time I’d heard myself say it out loud.

“I broke my vows and the sacraments, and
not only do I have my Lord to answer to…but the young lady I had sex with, as
well. I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know how to explain to her that
priests are human and have the same urges as other humans…but we’re not
supposed to act on them.

“Now that I have, is that it for me? I can
still remember how this woman smelled and the way her skin felt so soft. Her
hair was silky, and God help me, but I loved the feel of it in my face. Please
help me, Grandmother. Please tell me what to do. I’m so lost.”

I sat there for a while with tears rolling
down my face I was waiting for an answer that wasn’t forthcoming. Finally, I
told my grandmother how much I loved her once more and said goodbye.

With trepidation in my soul, I drove back
to Lexington and towards the address Daphne left me. It was time to come face
to face with the consequences of my bad decisions.

I hated to admit it, but the closer I get
to being alone with her, the more I realize that the hardest part was going to
be not being able to touch her again. She accused me of being too drunk to
remember, but the truth is that the memory of touching her was as fresh in my
mind as if it only just happened…and my fingers ached to touch her again.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

DAPHNE

I was a nervous wreck all day, but as soon
as I heard the knock on my apartment door, I was tempted to run and jump right
off the balcony. I was the one who wanted to talk…or I suppose needed was more
accurate. I was hoping that by doing this, I could get him out of my system
once and for all and then I could work on improving my relationship with God.

I opened the door and he stood there in
front of me in full priest regalia. If I hadn’t already been intimidated and
scared to death, I was then. I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what he was
going for, or maybe if he thought I’d go easier on him because of it. The only
reason I was so angry with him was because he was a priest, so it wasn’t
helping either of our causes for him to flaunt it. He smiled, and God help me
if I didn’t feel it all the way to my core.

“Hello, Daphne.”

I stepped back and said, “Father Jace.” I
emphasized the “Father” in case he was to forget again.

I saw him give a quick look around as he
walked inside my apartment. It was as if he were checking to see if anyone else
was there, like maybe the paparazzi were going to jump out from behind the
curtains. It would serve him right if they did.

“Have a seat,” I said. “So what’s up with
the garb? Did you think I’d go easier on you if you actually looked like a
priest?”

He looked down at his clothes and then
with a sad smile, he said, “No. I came straight from confession. Plus, if
anyone asked any questions, I wanted to have a legitimate reason for being
here. I’m officially welcoming a new parishioner to our flock.”

I rolled my eyes. He seemed to be entirely
in self-preservation mode and it was ticking me off. What about me? “So,” I
said, taking the seat next to him—I only had one small sofa, so it was either
that or stand. “Do you do this a lot?”

His face colored and he said, “No, never
before, actually. I was struggling with some personal issues that led to some
doubts about my faith. I went to the bar that night to be out in my community
and clear my head. I was hoping to remind myself how much I love what I do and
bring myself back to my faith.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So what happened?”

“I saw you.” The look in his green eyes
when he said that made me shudder. If he was coming on to me again…he was good.
I felt my insides tingle and once again I had to put myself in check.

“I wish I could explain it,” he continued.
“When I saw you, I had this uncontrollable urge to be with you. It’s something
I haven’t felt in years, never since I’ve become a priest. I should have been
able to control it, but since I also allowed myself to drink way too much
alcohol, and although that is no excuse, it did lower my inhibitions way too
much.”

God,
I’m ridiculous.
The butterflies were taking flight in my
stomach, delighting in the fact that a priest of all people was telling me I
created “an irresistible urge” inside of him.
God, please help me
.

“So what shall we do about this, Father
Jace?” I was trying to sound professional but the feelings racing through me were
touching places that they shouldn’t be and stirring up memories of our night
together and the way he felt and tasted…and most especially the way he touched
me.

“Maybe I should take this off,” he said,
standing and unzipping the cassock. I watched as he pulled it off and then
slipped off his collar. He laid them gently across the back of the couch and
sat down. The cassock started to slip and I scooted over to catch it, realizing
too late that it put me thigh to thigh with Jace.

He looked at me and said, “Now we can talk
like just two people. I know this has to be hard for you. I’m so sorry I put
you in this position, Daphne.”

“I just can’t understand it. I thought
being a priest was a calling. Is it just a façade to you? A way to make people
believe you’re this holy, pious man while you go on and live however you choose
to when no one is looking?”

His eyes looked watery as he said, “No,
Daphne, I swear. I have wanted to be a priest since I was a very young boy.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I love God, and I love the Catholic Church. I
can’t imagine my life now without it. I’m here to find out how we can fix this.
If my diocese finds out what I’ve done…I can lose everything. Do you plan to
tell anyone, Daphne?”

I
should…shouldn’t I? Maybe not. Maybe it’s as much between him and God as it is
between me and him.
As it was, I had no desire or intentions
to tell anyone. “No, Jace, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

He reached for my hand, and I didn’t move
it. The simple touch of our hands sent thrills racing through my body and
caused me to have to concentrate on my breathing. His eyes locked on mine before
suddenly his arms were around me, pulling me in against his hard chest and
stirring deeper desires. His arms were hard too and strong. I didn’t know that
priests work out.

I tried to pull back. I was getting too
excited and afraid of what I might do. He held tightly, though, and the only
part of me I was able to pull back was my face. Our eyes locked again and then
his dropped to my lips. It wasn’t a priestly look at all, and I knew he was
going to kiss me.

I
should pull away. I should fight it.
I just couldn’t stop
myself; I wanted it too badly. I craved the taste of his lips. He lowered his
to mine and crushed against them in a passionate kiss. I let my lips part, and
his tongue snaked in and found mine. We kissed until neither of us could
breathe and then he let me go and abruptly stood up. My head was still spinning
when he said,

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” He grabbed his
cassock and collar, and I sat there in a state of shock as I watched him go. I
wanted him to come talk so that I could try to understand how he’d broken his
vows and why he’d done so with me…but I wanted him so badly that I was ready to
lead him right back into temptation.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

E
JACE

I woke up tangled in the sheets. I dreamt
of Daphne that night—and every night for the past two weeks. I still couldn't
believe that I had the strength to walk away from her. Maybe I was still filled
with the Holy Spirit, after all.

I didn't feel as guilty about my dreams
since I couldn’t control those if I tried. I’m hoping that the satisfaction of
being with her for those six or eight hours every night would be enough to keep
me on the straight and narrow throughout the day.

In my dreams, we make love. I can feel her
sweet lips on my neck and along the line of my jaw. If I close my eyes, even
when awake, I can feel that first thrust. I made myself open my eyes again, but
the longing and the ache in my core were still there. It made me both
frustrated and giddy at the same time. I closed my eyes again…one more time
before I got up.

I revisit the dream, replaying the memory
of how her nipples felt between my fingers and tasted between my lips. I felt
myself growing hard, but I resisted touching; instead, I just lay there with
the image of her in my mind, and it was sinful, blissful, torture.

I opened my eyes once more. My body was
heavy with want and the hunger for her ran deep. Untangling myself from the
sheets, I did what I’d done every day for the past two weeks. I headed for the
shower, turned the water on cold, and climbed in. This was both a temporary
cure for my body’s lustful responses and a punishment for allowing myself to
dwell on it during my waking hours when I am supposed to have control. I couldn't
help but wonder if she dreamt about me, too.
Are we really together in our dreams?

I stepped out of the shower, and as I
dried off, I tried to refocus my thoughts. I was having coffee with Lily that
day. I figured it should be fun, catching up. Once again, my thoughts returned
to Daphne and the way I felt about her. I had never felt that strongly for Lily,
and she knew it. I loved her, but I was happy with it being a platonic kind of
love. What I felt for Daphne couldn’t be classified as anything other than a
pure, raging inferno of lust.

I dressed and drove to the coffee shop
where I found Lily waiting for me. She looked really pretty in a pair of blue
jeans and a sleeveless red blouse. I could tell that she must work out quite a
bit to keep herself in shape.

It was actually something we used to do
together, a million years ago. Weightlifting and running were my two biggest
passions besides my faith growing up. The weightlifting was a stress reliever
for me; it still is. I don’t do it because I’m worried about what my body looks
like. I do it because of the way it makes me feel. I didn't run as often as I
used to. It always worked to clear my head when I needed it back in the day.

When Lily saw me, she smiled and stood up.
“Hello again; I was really glad you called,” she said.

“Me, too,” I told her, giving her a kiss
on the cheek. “I was surprised, but pleased to see you in church last week.” We
sat down and ordered our coffees.

While we waited she said, “You used to
talk about becoming a priest. I secretly hated it when you did that.” She
smiled, but I’m sure she meant what she said.

“I’m sorry; I really am sorry for
everything. I think by the time you broke up with me I had already made up my
mind. But I didn’t know how to come right out and tell you, so I beat around
the bush a lot.”

She smiled again. “I know, and now I
understand. Back then, we were just so young. I was angry because it was
unfathomable to me. The thought of promising yourself to the church and never
having a family…”

The waitress sat Lily’s coffee down in
front of her and then mine. When she was gone, I said, “I always knew how
important that was to you, having a family. Why haven’t you married? Are you
still looking for Mr. Right?”

“I thought I found him…once.” I wasn’t
sure if she was talking about me or not. Then she said, “I was married for
about five minutes. I married a marine. I met him about six months after you
and I broke up.

“His name was Garrett, and I’m pretty sure
he was my soulmate. We loved all of the same things, and we both wanted the
same kind of future. We got married and were only together for about three
months when he got deployed to Afghanistan. He was killed a month later by an
IED.”

“Oh, Lily, I’m so sorry.” My heart hurt
for her. She had tears in her eyes even then, just talking about it.

She nodded and brushed a stray tear away.
“I’m sorry. I still miss him. I was so angry when it first happened. I spent
months locked in our home, reliving the memories I had of him and railing at
God. I refused to go to church, and I even told my mother I was denouncing the
church and my faith at one point.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Her mother was
one of the most religious women I’d ever known. It wasn’t hard for me to
imagine how she reacted to that. “I’ll bet that didn’t go over well.”

She smiled, too, and said, “Not even a
little bit. She told me I was being selfish. Garrett had died for his God and
his country, and now that he was gone, I was wasting my life feeling sorry for
myself. She told me how God had a plan for me and although it was okay to
grieve, I also needed to understand that God had a plan for my life and it
wasn’t for me to question it.”

“That is a hard thing to grasp,” I said,
honestly. “I lost my Grandmother recently and I felt the same way.”

“Oh no! I’m so sorry to hear that. She was
everything to you and your brothers. That had to be so hard.”

“It was, and I didn’t take it very well,
at all.” I wasn’t going to tell her about the drinking and Daphne, but it was
at least nice to be able to talk about the grief out loud.

“As a priest, it should have been easy for
me. I should have been rejoicing that she’d gone home and appreciating the fact
that we were allowed to have her at all. Instead, I was angry and looking for
ways to act out.”

She grinned. “Exactly how does a priest
act out? Did you skip your prayers? Throw your rosary beads?”

I laughed. “You guessed it,” I said. “So,
let’s change the subject to something less depressing. I’m guessing from the
card you gave me that you’re a hairdresser.”

“Yes. I’ve always loved to do hair. After
Garrett died, I thought about going back to school, but I love doing what I do.
I like making other people feel pretty, and I like creating designs. Having a
pair of scissors in my hand is cathartic. What about you? Do you ever regret
your choice?”

I thought about Daphne again. I never had,
before I met her. Since then, I did at least once a day, and that in itself is
a sin.

“No,” I lied. Another sin. “I love what I
do. It fulfills me.” Most of the time, that was true.

“Good. I’m really glad you’re happy, Jace.
I never stopped thinking and wondering about you.”

“I am, and I never stopped thinking about
you, either. I knew I couldn’t make you happy, but I hoped that someone did.”

She smiled. “Garrett made me happy, but do
you want to know a secret?”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve learned over the past few years that
the only real way to be happy is through myself. Other people can perpetuate
your happiness, but you have to take charge of your own life and live it well.”

“You’re very wise,” I told her with a
smile. “Hey! How do you feel about canoes?”

She laughed and said, “Honestly, I can
take them or leave them.”

“How would you like to go on a canoe trip
this weekend? It’s an annual thing that the church puts on. I still have room in
my boat.”

“That actually sounds like fun. Sure, I’d
like that.”

“Good, it’s a date.”