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He doesn’t seem to like that. His expression clouds over, and that same darkness fills me from the inside, threatening to burst its way out.
Let someone else take care of Mariana? Watch while he touches and kisses and protects her while I sit on the sidelines with her damn father?
The thought is agony.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Mariana
The murmur of the ocean fades as we make our way from the beach, and I feel like I could die of contentment. Brandon and I just spent the morning walking along the water with our coffee.
Like we’re a couple.
It’s heavenly anguish, but I’m surviving. I’m trying to live in the moment and enjoy our last day.
Or maybe I’m hoping he’ll change his mind…
“I need you to behave yourself at work today,” Brandon suddenly says, breaking the silence. His voice is firm, authoritative. A spark of something wicked flickers in his eyes, and it’s all I can do not to melt into the sand.
I turn to him, smiling innocently. “Behave myself? And how have I been misbehaving, Pastor?”
A ghost of a smile flits across his lips. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I can’t be seen groping my PA—
“Volunteer PA.”
He snorts. “As if that would make it any less of a scandal. No, we both need to behave today, but especially you, young lady.”
My tummy flips at the pet name. I never thought Brandon would use kink to cope with his biggest insecurity about our relationship.
I love that he’s this way. There’s so much we could explore if we had the time to do it. Maybe I could even work out some of my insecurities over living as an atheist in a church community. Maybe we could play out some priest fantasies…
God, I need to stop thinking this way.
Live in the moment, Mari.
“No bending over and showing me those beautiful tits,” he says. “No talking back to me.”
“Talking back?” I giggle. “There isn’t a more daddy phrase than that.”
He grabs me by the chin, those dark eyes narrowed but with a spark of amusement. “I am your daddy, for the next eight hours.”
Coldness washes over me, and I look down at my bare feet in the sand. Eight hours. How final.
How sad.
“I’ll behave,” I say, forcing a smile.
He must sense the change in my mood, because his grip on my chin softens. His hand slowly trails up my cheek. He leans forward and presses a featherlight kiss on my forehead. “Even though I’ve sinned,” he whispers. “I have no regrets. I wish I did. God knows I wish I did.”
I swallow. “Then why end this?”
He sighs. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but relationships that begin in sin—”
“That’s bullshit, Brandon.” He jerks back at the sharpness in my tone. “It’s black and white thinking.”
He laughs humorlessly. “I’m a man of God. Part of the bargain is black and white thinking. I know the world is full of nuance, but some of us just aren’t cut out to navigate it without strict principles. Mariana, think of all the people we would hurt if we continued this. My congregation would probably never trust me again if they knew that I slept with my intern. Your family…”
When his voice quivers, I have to look away. Tears hover behind my eyes, and I don’t want them to fall.
