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“I’m sorry?” I ask, confused. I know it’s his first name because that’s what Wesley called him when he let him inside the house earlier, but I don’t understand why he would give it to me.
“Call me Spencer. Something tells me I’ll be seeing much more of you from now on, and not because of what you shared with me today.”
I don’t get the chance to ask him what he means before he’s strolling through the door. I turn my questioning gaze to Wesley, who’s standing with his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. It’s weird seeing him in such casual clothing after only seeing him in his clerical outfit.
“What was that about?” I ask.
Pulling his hands from his pockets, he slowly walks toward me. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
He comes closer, and I don’t know why, but I walk backward. I’m forced to stop when my back meets the counter. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me. Normally I don’t like people getting too close. I enjoy my personal space too much. But with Wesley, he could crawl inside me, and I’d be happy.
His hands settle on the counter on either side of my hips, his chin down while he gazes at me. I set my hands on his firm, t-shirt-covered chest, loving the hardness beneath my fingers.
“What did he mean when he said you no longer needed him at the church?”
One corner of his mouth tips up. He hasn’t shaved yet today, and I can’t help but wonder what the scruff on his cheeks would feel like against my skin.
“I called him when you first started taking food from the church.”
My eyes widen. “You did? You were going to have me arrested?”
“I didn’t know who it was. I had no intention of having you arrested. It was obvious you needed help, and I wanted to do more than just give you food. I wanted to know why you needed help. I would have tried harder to find you if I had known what you were doing on the streets at night.”
I drop my gaze to his chest, shame coating my cheeks from all the men I slept with. I’d do it all again if I had to in order to help Sam. I just wish I had listened to the inner voice in my head when I first saw Wesley. It whispered that he would help Sam and me. But I was so afraid to take any from anyone.
Using his finger, he lifts my chin until my eyes meet his.
“Don’t be ashamed, Jersey,” he says quietly. “You did what you felt you had to do to help Sam.”
My throat bobs. “Just so you know, I always used condoms when I… was with those guys.” Heat warms my cheeks. Wesley and I didn’t use protection last night, and I want to alleviate any worry he might have.
“I trust you.”
I frown. “Why? You hardly know me.”
He steps so close that our chests are pressed together. His hands move from the counter and they encompass my waist. With him so close, I feel the rigid length in his jeans. I want to rub up against it. Climb him like a tree and dry hump him until we’re both panting and feverish with desire.
“I honestly don’t know. I just have this feeling you were always supposed to be part of my life. That I was meant to be there for you when you needed me.”
His words have my heart racing. Not in fear or because I don’t agree. It’s the opposite, in fact. I have the same uncanny feeling that Wesley and I were supposed to meet. That our coming together when we did, my trusting him so easily, was something that was out of our control. Like some unseen force brought us together.
I move my hands up his chest and curl my fingers around his neck. I play with the hairs tickling my fingers.
Dropping my chin, I look at him through my eyelashes, suddenly feeling nervous.
“What exactly are we doing, Wesley? You’re a priest. A relationship with me isn’t something you can offer.”
We’ve already had sex, so he’s broken his vow of celibacy. I don’t know if that’s something he can come back from. Will the church forgive his transgressions? Will he still want to stay with the church if he can? I won’t ask him to give up something so important, no matter how much it’ll hurt to not have him again.
His arms tighten around me and his head dips closer. His lips are a hair’s breadth away when he whispers, “We’re doing what feels natural.” He presses a soft kiss against my lips then pulls back. “Twelve years ago, I took vows to never have sexual relations again. In those twelve years, I’ve never been tempted to break those vows. Until I met you.”
I love what he’s saying, but at the same time an intense feeling of regret and shame bounces around inside me. It was me who tempted him off his religious path. What kind of person does that? A horrible person, that’s who. He told me last night he made the decision on his own, but had he not met me, he would have never broken his word to the church.
“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly, meaning those words with all my heart.
“Don’t be. I’m not.” He gives me a half smile. “Jersey, do you find me so weak-willed that I would break my vows for just anyone? Vows that I never had any intention of ever breaking.”
“No. Of course not.”
