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“Is it really the place you belong? Or is it a place for you to hide from the world? For you to wilt away? For you to pretend you don’t matter? For you to suffer in silence?” Declan pulls away quickly, and my eyes pop open as he tugs up one of my sleeves and then the other. My stomach clenches as I stare down at the scars. I have suffered, but doesn’t everyone? “Tell me another pretty lie, Eve. Tell me this isn’t your prison.”
I reach for the rosary, but he grabs it and holds it up between us, dangling it in the air like a noose. “You don’t know me anymore, Declan.”
He tosses his head back and laughs. Shivers work up and down my spine as he wraps the beads around his palm and rubs them over his heart. “Another lie.”
“I think you should go.”
“Lie.”
“Nothing can happen between us. I don’t want you.”
“Lie and lie.” Declan laughs again, this time reaching for me and pulling me into his lap. This position forces me to straddle him, causing my dress to rise and my legs to scrape against the rough stone floor. His strong hands circle my hips and hold me in place. “Does your God know you’re a sinner?”
His eyes are wild, feral, and for the first time since the night at the club, I get a glimpse of the Devil himself.
I push against his muscular chest, try to break free from his hold, but the more I struggle against him, the tighter his hold on me gets. And then I feel him beneath me…his long, hard length. He likes the struggle, the fight.
“Let me go, Declan. This isn’t a game.”
“Does this feel like a game?” He shifts, grinding himself against my core, and I can’t stop the whimper that falls from my mouth.
I shouldn’t want this, but it feels so good. He feels so good.
I’m training to be a nun, and while I haven’t taken my formal vows of celibacy in front of the other sisters, I’ve made a promise to myself—to God.
That fire I felt earlier is back, exploding through my body, sending heat through my veins and burning away my resistance bit by bit. It’s like Declan has awoken my body from a coma, like it’s been locked away and waiting for him.
He lifts his hips, rubbing his length against me; it’s too much, yet it leaves my body yearning for more.
“Tell me, Eve.” His words are harsh, clipped, and as he grabs my chin, the beads from the rosary dig into my jaw. He forces me to look him, to see my own reflection in his gaze. “Tell me it’s over. Tell me you feel nothing. Go on and lie to me.”
“I…” I run my hands up his chest and smooth down the crisp white collar of his shirt. “I can’t.”
His head cocks to the side as he studies me. The seconds tick by and his mouth quirks up, a crooked smile working its way across his face. “Let me heal you, M’fhíorghrá. Let me be your God.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DECLAN
Eve stills, her breath coming in shallow pants, her green eyes wide and laced with heat, desperation, a need to let go.
I should push her off my lap and walk away, leave her integrity and the false sense of security she has intact. I should, but I won’t, because I’m a bad man and Eve Astor is mine. She always has been, always will be. The sooner she remembers where she belongs, the better it will be for the both of us.
“Declan.” My name is like a prayer coming from her pretty lips, and I can’t wait to claim her, to hear her scream it so loud the God above will know who owns her.
She trembles as I remove the black veil from her head and toss it toward the altar. Her long strawberry blonde hair shakes free, and I can’t help but wrap it around my fist, the same one with her precious beads.
The strands feel like silk around my skin, just like I remember.
“What do you want, Eve?” I pull her hair, forcing her head to bend back, and flex my hips, running my hard cock along her pussy.
If this is going to be my only chance to convince her that she belongs to me, I’m not going to fight fair. I’m not going to stop until her cunt is dripping with her arousal, until she’s writhing beneath me, until she begs me for release…until she remembers me and how good we were together.
I’ll be her Lord, her Savior, her protector.
“What will I find under that little dress of yours? Will you be wet for me?” I settle my free hand on her thigh, dancing my fingers down to the edge of her dress, but instead of diving underneath it, I toy with the fabric, intentionally brushing against the skin above her knee.
Her thighs are quivering, her breath coming in shallow pants.
