AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And, what? You want to be that for me? You want to be my personal savior?” The words were whispered, and yet they couldn’t have felt heavier. The hand holding onto the leather glove shook with the intensity of this situation, and my free hand curled into a fist, if only to stop myself from touching him.
Oh, God, how I wanted to touch him. Feel him not in the thick of a fight, but in the throes of something else.
“I can only be your savior if you let me,” Ezekiel whispered back.
“And how would your God look upon you saving me? How would he approve of any of this?”
“Sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”
How was I supposed to take that? What was I supposed to say to him after hearing him say that? I was a mess of emotions, a well of festering anger, but being here with him, knowing he would do this—dismember a man, among other things—all for me, made me feel so much more.
I bet, with everything Ezekiel had done not only here, not only for me, but in his entire life, he was used to asking for forgiveness, and since he was a priest, he would get it. He would get whatever answer from his God that he wanted. That was his secret. He could kill, he could maim, he could break every commandment, and yet God would still take him back.
Without saying a single thing more, I turned away from him, walking out of the room, away from the man without his arms or legs. I went back the way we came, all too aware Ezekiel followed me. All the way up to the church, out to the back hall, and then to the main area of the church. I stopped only when I stood before the altar, and I tossed my one glove down, working to get the other one off and doing the same.
Ezekiel emerged from the hall, staring at me with what I could only call a mystified expression. “What are you doing?”
I stared at the statue of Jesus in the back of the altar, front and center of this whole church. All those talks I had with Father Charlie, and I never really felt like I’d grown closer to my mother in doing so. It certainly hadn’t helped me discern right from wrong. And here I was, about to do a whole lot more wrong.
Did I care about forgiveness? No, but Ezekiel did.
“I’m asking for forgiveness for what I’m about to do,” I told him, measured in dropping my stare from the statue. Ezekiel had made silent strides to stand next to me, and by the time my body turned, it was too late. I knew in my heart it was too late; there would be no going back now.
“You,” he whispered, “will be my greatest sin, I fear.”
A better person would never have gotten themselves into a situation like this to begin with, but if there was one thing I knew with certainty, it was that neither Ezekiel nor I were good people. We pretended to be. We faked it to everyone else, and usually, everyone else accepted the lie. Some people believed it was better to live in blissful ignorance than the harsh, cold truth of reality. But me?
I’d take reality every single time.
I was the one who took the initiative. I stepped forward, closing the small distance between our bodies. My chest collided with his, and I grabbed his shirt, bringing his face down to mine. Our mouths collided in a rush of hot impatience, and everything else faded away.
Ezekiel was fire. I wasn’t the forbidden fruit; he was. A man of the cloth, and yet it was like he was sent here for me, made for me. I couldn’t fight the way everything in me called out to him, how every nerve in my body screamed when he was near. He might hide his emotions, he might hardly ever smile, but I didn’t need a man who smiled.
There was nothing sexier than a man who got shit done, a man who wasn’t afraid to get his hands bloody, and based on the man downstairs and his lack of legs and arms, Ezekiel was used to getting quite bloody.
His hands found my sides, holding onto me, as if he feared I would pull away and end the embrace. He couldn’t have been more wrong there; I wanted nothing but to keep this heat, this passion between us, going forevermore. I was so captured by the feeling of his lips on mine that I didn’t even feel any aching in my stomach.
Or maybe that was because a certain lower part of my body had begun to heat up, a part of me that hadn’t seen use since the last time I’d gone to the Playground.
It occurred to me that perhaps I should feel some kind of guilt over this. Not just because Ezekiel was a priest, but because I had feelings for other men.
Cade, my dragon man from the Playground, the one who had helped me come out of my shell and reminded me that bodies didn’t have to be villains.
Zander, my stoic bodyguard who claimed to have always cared for me, even though I was the boss’s daughter.
And who could forget Luca, the man I was currently engaged to? Though his looks took after his father, he was nothing at all like the man who’d killed my spirit and stolen my bodily innocence three years ago. He was warm, cute, and he could be unbelievably sweet.
So many men had wormed their way inside of me. So many handsome faces had found their way into my thoughts when I wasn’t paying attention. All these years I’d been so closed-off, unwilling to even try. I’d been a zombie, going day to day, just trying to stay alive.
Who knew being alive could feel so fucking good?
Ezekiel’s mouth did not leave mine when his hands started to roam over my sides, then my back. He bunched up my shirt, drawing up the fabric, and as much as I didn’t want to pull my lips from his, I also felt like I was going to explode in the clothes I wore. I needed to get them off, and I needed them off ASAP.
So I pulled away, letting him take my shirt off. I had to help to get it off my arms, and I didn’t care how badly I fumbled to do it. This was a race, and we would both be the winners. His hands left me, and he started to take off his own clothes, leaving me to hurriedly take off my remaining garments.
My boots were first, then my socks. I slipped off my leggings after that, wearing nothing but a matching set of lacy underthings. Since I had a head start on him, I paused in my stripping, stopping to watch him.
He was much more reserved in the way he took off his clothes, every move he made measured and calculated. Those blue eyes of his sparkled in the dark church, alight with lust and everything else a priest shouldn’t feel. He undid his collar, then the buttons on his shirt. His belt came off next, and then he slipped off his shoes.
