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There’s silence for a long time until she finally says, “Yes, he was cruel.”
I clench my jaw, wanting to learn more. “In what way?”
The woman clears her throat. “I’m not sure going into it helps anything. I merely wish to confess my sins, Father.”
“I’m here to listen to your sins and help you understand your actions better.” I narrow my eyes, realizing I’m acting insane right now. “So that you don’t make the same mistakes.”
She sighs a heavy breath before speaking. “My husband was physically abusive. That’s why I ran. He hurt me and...” she trails off. “I don’t wish to get into the details.”
My knuckles turn white as I grip the bar before me so hard I might rip it off. I’ve yet to see her, but this woman’s voice makes me oddly possessive. The dark, lustful feelings of my youth rise to the forefront of my mind. I can sense she’s young, and as a man committed to God for four years, the easiest thing could set me off.
“I see, then your actions would be justified in the eyes of our lord.” I rub my hand across the back of my neck, trying to control myself. “It’s he who should seek forgiveness.”
She chuckles, but there’s a sad tone to her laugh. “My husband isn’t a man who ever apologizes for his actions.”
I knew men like the man she describes before I became the priest here in this small town. “I know the type,” I say, slipping into a dangerously casual ease with this girl. “Don’t blame yourself for his actions.”
“Thank you, Father.” There’s a few moments of silence. “So, no penance for me, then?” She confirms.
Other than me pulling you over my knee and giving you a spanking.
Fuck.
My mind is already in the gutter, and I haven’t seen her yet. “That’s right, child.”
“Would you mind if we spoke face to face?” She asks.
A sense of alarm prickles over my neck as I realize how dangerous that would be. “Of course not,” I reply, even though I should refuse, reaching for the door to the confessional. “Come on out.”
It’s like inviting a lamb into the lion’s den. My heart pounds frantically as I step out and shut the door, watching her door swing open. I hold my breath, waiting to see if she’s as divine as her voice.
Time comes to a halt as the most stunning woman steps out with dark brown hair that flows to her waist and a curvy figure that’s made to be worshipped by a man’s hands, my hands, to be exact.
All the blood in my veins rushes south, making me thankful for the loose-fitting robes as her pale blue eyes connect with mine. Electricity zaps the oxygen from the air as I struggle to draw enough into my lungs.
Her eyes widen as they take in my appearance, moving from my bulky frame to the small amount of ink visible above my collar. “Hello,” she says, her delicate throat bobbing as she swallows. “I’m Madison.”
Madison.
She’s fucking divine. She unravels everything I’ve tried to run from in one second flat. The darkness that still lives dormant within me. The darkness I tried to bury.
“It’s good to meet you, Madison.” I hold out my hand for her to shake. “I’m Dante.”
She takes my hand, her lips parting. Her lips are fucking beautiful. Electric chemistry flows between us. It’s all-consuming and addictive. She licks those thick and luscious lips as if she’s trying to tempt me in. Damn it.
“It’s lovely to meet you too, Dante,” she purrs.
Even hearing her say my name sounds sexy.
I know without a doubt that I would die protecting her from any man who tried to hurt her. That I’d kill any man who tried. Any man who even thought about touching her because she’s mine.
“How long have you been running?” I ask.
My question snaps her out of a daze as she shakes her head. “Nine months, Father.” Her demeanor changes, shoulders drooping as the weight of the burden crushes her. I want to carry that burden. I want to find whoever made her feel that way and crush his fucking skull with my bare hands.
You’re a priest, Dante.
My limited moral consciousness speaks. I’ve spent four years building this safe life away from the darkness. And this angel has waltzed in here and obliterated my self-control. She hardly had to do anything.
