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Emelia blinked back tears as she turned to hang her coat on one of the pegs beside the door, he couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over her soft curves. His body reacted like it usually did around Emelia, becoming hard and uncomfortable behind his zipper. He thanked his lucky stars that his sweatshirt dropped below his groin.
Quickly averting his eyes before Barbara caught him, he let Emelia be fussed over by the older woman. They’d both gotten along in the past, but he wasn’t so sure what would happen this visit.
With Emelia showing up like she had, Dante had an idea as to how she wanted the visit to go, he just needed to be certain that it was what he really wanted before he made such a huge decision. She made him afraid.
What scared him was the knowledge that all Emelia would have to do was touch him, and then he wouldn’t be able to hold back when he knew they weren’t related by blood. He knew in his blood that the white collar around his neck wouldn’t make a difference in the end, he also knew that he’d fight it. He had to, otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the face at Mass. He certainly would never be able to preach about ‘sinning’ when he’d done just that.
“Father, are you unwell?” Barbara asked, and reached for his forehead.
“I’m fine. Please don’t fuss.”
“Your sister looks like she could do with a hug about now.” She frowned. “So while you’re doing that, I’ll go and make a nice cup of tea.” She disappeared into the kitchen when he finally met Emelia’s gaze.
Without a word said between them, he took that one step forward and pulled her against him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and buried his face in her neck, sighing in pleasure when she wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight.
They stood wrapped together in a loving embrace for so long that even when the whistle blew on the old-fashioned teakettle, which Barbara insisted on using, it didn’t disturb them.
Emelia felt so good in his arms that he feared he’d never be able to let her go. He needed to apologize to her, but not out in the hall. Barbara would leave shortly, maybe sooner if she thought Emelia needed to talk, and then they’d be alone.
Not such a good idea.
It didn’t matter. They’d be alone later, regardless of any intervention on Barbara’s part. He still couldn’t bring himself to release her. She smelled so good that his nose ran along her neck while he inhaled. Emelia gasped, and then pressed her mouth against his neck and moaned. The vibration sent desire racing to his dick, which swelled even more. He was afraid the thing would burst through his pants to get to her with how hard he was.
So far he’d managed to keep himself in check while she was in his arms, but all it would take would be for her to move a tiny bit to the right and she’d feel every hard inch of him. That image caused his hold on her to slacken, and then he cleared his throat while stepping back.
“You’ll be chilled,” he started, “having been outside in the snow. Let’s go and warm you up.” He casually wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the kitchen.
He hadn’t missed the surprise on her face when he’d mentioned warming her up. He knew what she thought he meant, and it killed him because that was what he wished he’d meant.
In the kitchen, Barbara had already poured her a cup of tea, which for some reason she thought Emelia liked when, in actual fact, she hated the stuff. There was a slice of chocolate cake on a plate beside the tea and, of course, that was the first thing Emelia zeroed in on.
“Oh, my favorite.”
He reluctantly let her go once she’d sat herself down at the table. Barbara beamed with having Emelia at her table and he knew it was because she had someone new to talk to. She obviously got bored with him after a while, but he couldn’t blame her when he’d hardly said two words to her since he’d returned home.
“I must have known you’d be here today when I baked that cake. It’s funny though because, as I whisked the mixture, I was thinking about you and how it was your favorite cake.” Barbara shook her head, smiled and joined Emelia at the table.
Emelia broke a piece of cake off and popped it into her mouth, and then she looked up at him and smiled. She reached for his hand. “Sit with us. Don’t rush off.” Her fingers grazed his wrist and his body broke out in goose bumps.
He dropped into the seat beside her and tried to concentrate on the conversation going on, but all he could think about was that Emelia was in his home.
Before he knew they weren’t related, he had better control over his body’s reaction to her, but since the big confession, not even the fact that he was a priest could subdue how he reacted to her closeness.
“Father, are you alright?” Barbara asked again, her worry was clear in her tone.
“I’m fine.” He picked his teacup up, took a sip, and tried not to wince.
He was most certainly a coffee drinker.
Emelia chuckled and, when their eyes met, hers were full of amusement. She offered him a small smile and he was transfixed. Her olive skin had more color from when he’d opened the door to her, and although she was amused at him for having to drink the tea, she looked happy.
“That’s my ride.” Barbara interrupted his thoughts when she moved from the table.
“I’ll walk you out,” he offered, and stood to help Barbara into her jacket.
> “It was lovely seeing you again.” Emelia gave Barbara a hug. “Thank you for taking great care of him.”
“You’re welcome...of course, he’s good on the eyes so that’s a bonus,” Barbara chuckled, and slid her arm into his so he could lead her to the front door.
