Page 25 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

Before I can correct him, he drops his mouth to my clit and sucks hard, fingers pumping in and out.

“Oh God, yes,” I whimper.

His rhythm picks up speed, harder and deeper. He doesn’t let up until I’m back on the precipice, panting and grinding into his face, pleasure building to a breaking point.

The orgasm hits me with a blinding force, robbing me of vision, sound, and any sensation except for wave after wave of bliss.

Through it all, he makes little sounds of need, lapping until the quivering in me eases. Only then does he relax his hold, allowing my body to slide down the cabinet. I fall in a boneless heap on the clothes beneath us, heaving breaths, and struggling to pull my thoughts into a straight line.

He rears back on his haunches, and I spread my thighs so he’ll take the hint and fuck me, but he doesn’t. He sits back, his posture growing tense, his eyes widening as he blinks rapidly. He looks around at the mess, at the closed steam room door, at my disheveled and naked body.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

My smile drops. “I’m not.”

“I shouldn’t have—” He curses. Runs his fingers through his hair.

What the hell?

I push up on my elbows, open my mouth to speak, but he grabs the robe and hands it to me.

“We have to go,” he says gruffly, avoiding my eyes. “You were right.”

Frowning, I take it and sit up.

He dresses with sharp, jerky movements, all business. He’s still erect, but he still refuses to look at me.

It’s not until he’s trying to put his Roman collar on with shaky hands that I see the problem. The guilt.

You are not his salvation.

A lump forms in my throat, and I get dressed.

You are his relapse.

Ten

Mercy

Cisco watches me fit the veil, but I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll overthink things, and emotion gets you killed in a war zone. The moment we leave this room, that’s essentially what we’ll be in. So I focus on fastening the holster over my tunic and under the veil. No time to worry about hiding it beneath the robe. The ship has sailed on being completely incognito. Easy access is preferable.

Because he did his sin-eating thing, I still have a few doses of poison in my ring. It could come in handy. I pat down my pockets and feel something lumpy in one of them. It’s the Twizzlers that Tawny and the orphans gave to me. I offer one to Cisco, but he shakes his head.

“Right. You’re full.”

I put his back, and pop mine into my mouth.

“Mercy.”

“I’m a professional, Cisco,” I garble around the Twizzler. “We don’t need to sing Kumbaya and hug out our issues. Let’s go.”

He sighs and then collects his bag. “Do you know where they took yours?”

“No.” I rifle through the red vestments until I find what I’m looking for—Cardinal Valerio’s security tag. “We don’t have time to hunt it down.”

“I have a few of your . . . things in my bag. If you need them.”

The awkward tone in his voice lifts my gaze. “What do you mean?”