Sweetest Sin: A Forbidden Priest Romance

by Sosie Frost

  It ended softly, reverently, and the stillness was shattered by a rousing applause.

  Judy took to the stage, accepting the praise of the crowd as she reintroduced us as St. Cecilia’s prized choir.

  “Thank you all so much!” She clapped and the microphone buzzed. “Now I think we ought to invite up here the man who made this all possible up here. I am so pleased to introduce Father Raphael St. Lucian, our parish priest...” She hesitated. “At least for the rest of the week.”

  The audience cheered. I held my breath.

  I didn’t see him. Neither did Deacon Smith. He shrugged at Judy.

  “Father Rafe?” Judy called over the festival. She nervously made a joke. “Would our priest please come to the stage?”

  One of the youth group mothers shouted over the crying baby in her arms. “I thought I saw him in the church?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Judy sighed. “All right. We’ll just move onto the judging. Now, we’re going to give our esteemed judges a few minutes to discuss—”

  I wasn’t listening. Alyssa and Samantha called to me, but I hurried from the stage, jumping off the steps and nearly losing my heel to the muck behind the stairs.

  I knew where Father Raphael was, and I knew just what he was doing.

  Leaving.

  He wouldn’t have missed the festival unless he meant to avoid it, to rush from our lives, without the common courtesy to tell us he was packing his office.

  He was leaving.

  The tears stung my eyes and blurred everything as I sprinted to the church—as fast as I could break through the people and dart through the booths.

  The crowds thickened beyond the concert. Pressed in. Laughed and milled and got lost between the flickering reds and yellows and purples of the lights. Canned music and the rumble of chains on steel equipment muffled the presentations from the stage.

  I didn’t care.

  I pushed through the dizzying crowds, parting the sea that would crush back and tear me upon the rocks of my own sin.

  Was he still in the church?

  He wouldn’t have gone. Not yet. Not so soon.

  I closed my eyes and prayed.

  Please don’t be gone.

  I twisted through the booths and vendors, sliding between two tables and rushing behind those restocking from their trailers. An electrical cord twisted in the grass, and I hopped to avoid it. My toe crunched against a concrete block used to pitch the tents, and the pain would have made me weep if I could afford those few precious seconds.

  In the dark, I slipped against mud and sweated as the night drew close. I filled my crushing lungs with humid misery.

  The parking lot was full, and I dodged parking cars and swarms of people milling outside the festival. I burst to the sidewalk and yanked on the back door.

  Locked.

  No.

  I didn’t have time to catch my breath. I ran to the front, tripping over my dress and falling to my knees at the front steps of the church.

  Before the crosses out front.

  Beneath the sculptures and shrines warning me of my transgressions.

  I stared at the crucifix, my words twisted in my own revelation and revulsion.

  “I have to tell him.” I confessed as I forced myself to my feet. “Please, forgive me.”

  The vestibule was unlocked. The door clattered behind me, and I plunged into the silent dark of the church. The doors to the sanctuary were opened wide.

  I walked to the entry.

  Just as I had done so many times before, but never for the right reasons, and always in pursuit of that selfish and destructive desire.

  Was this time any different?

  Did I have the strength to deny this temptation, this final unrelenting desire to find him, see him, talk to him…

  Tell him how I felt?

  But wasn’t this the darkness he had tried to cleanse? We had failed in so many ways, and we drowned in every sin we tried to right. Was I that wicked that I couldn’t accept the one lesson he offered?

  I had to let him go.

  No apologies. No declarations.

  No matter how much it hurt.

  I turned at the door. Too late.

  “Honor.”

  His rolling, righteous voice had the power to fill the entire sanctuary or whisper just for me to hear. Once, it rumbled in confidence and power. Now it strained in an anguish he didn’t deserve.

  I should have left.

  But I was a sinner. I was tempted.

  I was lost.

  And it was because of him.

  Father Raphael waited at the altar, shielded in the cassock that once drew me to his wisdom and heart. Now I understood the truth. I realized just what that collar meant.

  A box rested at his feet. He’d packed his office.

  “You weren’t even going to say goodbye?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t say good-bye to you.”

  I didn’t trust myself to step closer, but his eyes met mine. Dark. Hardened. Was it my weakness or his that called to me?

  “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” I whispered. “I’m not mad. I’m not hurt. You were right about everything, Father.”

  “Honor—”

  “You mean too much to me. I can’t let you go without apologizing for the way I acted. You always tried to help me. I know you want to save me.”

  “You don’t need to be saved, Honor.”

  “Yes, I do. I know I do. And I’ll repent for those things we did one day…” I wished I hadn’t taken the breath. It rattled in my chest, weakening me as my eyes blurred with tears. “I just can’t do it now. I can’t have you leave and then destroy those memories we had all at the same time. It’s too cruel.”

  Father Raphael clenched his jaw. He looked to the altar, the candles, and finally the crucifix hanging above. His lips moved in a silent, unfinished prayer, and his hand trembled before he finished crossing himself.

  I shouldn’t have shivered when he spoke, shouldn’t have let his words wrap over me, center in me, and crush what fragile bruise of a heart remained.

  “You once asked me why I became a priest.”

  I didn’t speak. His words weren’t meant for me.

  “I did it to hide.”

  The truth burned in the holy silence of the sanctuary. I stared at him, memorizing the angle of his jaw, the strike of the candlelight in his hair, the pale loveliness of his skin that contrasted more with my color than the blackness of his robe.

  “I became a priest to heal everyone but myself. I wanted to shed the pain of my past without confronting it. I didn’t trust my desires, and I could deny them if I were celibate. I thought that made me…untouchable. Protected from the truth. From myself.”

  He turned, his expression softened.

  “I thought it’d protect me from you, my angel.”

  I’d have held his gaze forever if it weren’t burning my soul into ash. “Why are you saying these things?”

  “You healed me, Honor. You awakened me. You touched me, and that shame, the hatred I felt…faded.”

  “Father?”

  “I’ve forgiven him.” His voice was hard, but it edged only in pity. “My father was a man destroyed by his own demons…because he didn’t have an angel to guide him.”

  If he meant to praise me, it hurt.

  If he meant to thank me, I wouldn’t accept his gratitude.

  If he meant to break me…

  He stepped closer, but my instincts dulled. I should have pulled away before he took my hand.

  Temptation.

  Hadn’t we suffered enough?

  “I was wrong,” he said.

  His words heated through me, whispered in delicate praise and forbidden closeness. He brushed my cheek. The pleasure ached in me.

  “I was using you to fight the pain in myself,” he said. “I thought you were the key to conquering my fears, but I was a fool. I was meant to forgive my past. That was the only way I’d finally have peace. I misled you, Honor
. I hurt you. I…lost you.”

  I hated myself for pressing into his hand. The warmth, the roughness of his fingers struck through me. It took every strength I possessed not to touch him as well.

  So I reached for his robes.

  Twisted my fingers in the cassock.

  Held on to him, but pushed him away. I fought my every instinct to collapse in his arms.

  Father Raphael stroked me. “You are not a test of my faith. You renewed it.”

  “Don’t.”

  “You aren’t a challenge for me to overcome. You were the way.”

  “We can’t speak like this.”

  “I thought you were an angel sent to test me, Honor.” His words lowered. “I was wrong. You were sent to save me, and it’s because of you I am healed.”

  His lips brushed mine, but I twisted away before the softness dizzied my head and broke my heart any more. He leaned down, whispering into my ear, forcing me to listen to this beautiful torture.

  “I wanted to be a priest for the wrong reasons. You would have me face the world as a man for the right ones.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I wrote a letter to the bishop this afternoon.”

  “A letter?”

  “A petition for my laicization.”

  My breath caught, hard against a bubbling hope and wicked joy. He touched my face, and his words caressed the rest of me in gentle, loving warmth.

  “I’m resigning my position,” he said. “It isn’t fair to the parish. I can’t devote my heart to the church while belongs to another.”

  “But you can’t.” I trembled in his arms. “This is your calling.”

  “I can’t hurt you, deny you, or live this life apart from you. How can I heal others, how could I help others, if I lost the one who saved me? I love you, Honor. I would have you be mine…if you would take this sinner for your own.”

  I breathed his words.

  I prayed.

  I silenced my own hope.

  “You would give this up for me?” I asked.

  “I already have. I did the moment I met you, whether I understood it or not. It was never temptation. It was never lust. It was never sin.” He pressed his lips to mine, and I savored a truth that tasted so sweet. “I fell in love with you, and no one, not God, not the devil, not even my own past can deny me this blessing.”

  I held him close. “Is it a sin to follow our hearts?”

  “No, my angel. This is our absolution.”

  Epilogue – Honor

  Five Months Later

  Blessed are the wedding planners.

  A day of dress fittings, shoe shopping, menu designing, and flower arrangements was a new type of hell I hadn’t known existed. We had a month until the wedding, but Alyssa and Samantha worked Mom into a tizzy, changing most of the details while demanding more decorations, a larger band, a bigger cake…

  I only wanted the chance to stand at the altar with the man I loved and whisper my vows to him, God, and any who were still shocked by the scandal of it all.

  It didn’t matter what the band played, what dinner we had, or whether we folded the napkins like roses or doves. As long as I had Rafe, I could stand before the altar naked for all I cared.

  Though…we promised we wouldn’t do that anymore.

  My classes let out at two, and I raced from the college to the boutique and florists. I met Mom with the caterer—a lovely woman from the parish—and made it to Rafe’s home at six.

  And beat him there.

  The little house was a perfect starter home for us, but I hadn’t moved in yet. The laicization process took months, and it was time we played by the rules. No indiscretions before marriage.

  I hated that it was the one tenant we decided to honor.

  But I had a key to his house, and I let myself in—carefully. He was still in the process of renovating. He said he wanted something fit for his bride. The church was involved in enough habitat for humanity ventures that I never doubted his skill, but…

  I traced the lovely engravings on the cabinet doors. Scripture verses carved in beautiful calligraphy.

  He put so much of himself into our home. Entirely too much.

  After resigning from the clergy, he took the position as executive director for St. Cecilia’s struggling school system. It took most of his time and energy, but in just a few months the budget was balanced, attendance had risen, and the kids seemed happier.

  And so did he, especially when he saw the difference in the lives of so many children, ones the same age he was when that darkness seized him. He loved knowing he could help those in the parish, even if he wasn’t wearing the collar.

  The keys scraped his lock, and the little metallic twist thrilled me. I hopped onto the counter and waited to welcome my husband-to-be to our future home.

  I bit my lip as he entered. He’d traded his cassock for a classy black suit and looked no less intimidating. He grinned as he saw me, though his smiled faded as he stared at my legs, crossing and squirming under his inspection.

  “Hey,” I said.

  I still trembled for him, especially when he gave me that hungry look. He stood still and uncompromising in his suit. Broad shoulders. Thick chest. I remembered what hardened under it.

  Still imagined it.

  The wedding couldn’t come soon enough.

  He had spoken, but I missed it all.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

  His eyebrow arched. Rafe approached the counter, his steps deliberate and heavy.

  “I wondered if you had waited long?” The teasing edge to his words might have sliced through the pretty dress I wore…picked specifically because I knew we’d see each other tonight. “I guess so, or my angel wouldn’t be so distracted.”

  He drifted too close, his hand tickling over my arms, down my hands, to the lovely diamond ring he’d placed on my finger just a few months before.

  “Long day,” I whispered. “Classes and getting everything ready for the wedding.”

  “Right.”

  His kiss teased a mew from my lips. It was a mistake to touch him, but my fingers drifted within his suit coat, stroking the hard muscle that strained against his dress shirt. He liked that, and a low growl rumbled from his throat.

  “Careful, my angel.” His warning was just another tease, an invisible stroke against my cheek, my chest. Lower. “We still have another month until our wedding.”

  I swallowed, hard. “I know. It’s just…”

  “Are you tempted?” He leaned close, his lips pressing my temple. “What are you thinking?”

  He did it on purpose, these little games. But I felt the hardness stiffen against me. We teased each other for the past five months. Look, but no touching. A kiss goodnight pressed against the wall, but nothing more. He burned me from the inside out, but I knew how to scorch him.

  “None of my thoughts are pure, Rafe.”

  “Can you resist them?” His hands tickled over my side, gripping my hips in the way I remembered. “Can you deny these feelings?”

  “I must.”

  He hummed, low. “I’d hate to think that my bride-to-be is suffering such…torment.”

  The thought slayed me. I kissed him, flicking my tongue over his just how he liked it.

  I murmured over his lips. “I can wait another month.”

  “I can’t.”

  I squealed as he lifted me from the counter. He swung me into his arms and carried me from the kitchen to drop me onto his bed.

  He groaned as his lips kissed a path over my neck and lower. I tried to hide my smile.

  “But it’s wrong…” I grasped his arms, his hair, and arched into his bite. “We aren’t married yet. We can’t give into this temptation.”

  “I’d surrender to these sweet sins.” His kiss drifted lower. “There is not a force in this world or the next that’s holier than my love for you, Honor.”

  He pulled my clothes off, and his touch, kiss, and worship cast me over th
e edge too many times in too many ways. I shuddered for him, calling his name and begging for the sweet mercy of his body within mine.

  We joined, moved, breathed as one.

  Pure.

  Unified.

  Together.

  No temptation, no sin, would ever destroy what we surrendered in love.

  The End

  Thank you so much for reading! If you loved Sweetest Sin, don’t forget to sign up to my mailing list. Starting in late spring, I’ll be writing a weekly serialized romance, available exclusively to subscribers to my mailing list! You won’t want to miss it!

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  Other Books By Sosie Frost

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  Bad Boy’s Baby

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  Andrew Maddox is after only two things—his woman…and his revenge.

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  Acknowledgements

  First off, let me thank you guys, the readers.

  This book is a pretty big departure from my last ones. I will say, it’s my favorite. I love the themes, I love the angst, and I love pushing those boundaries. Thank you guys for letting me experiment and write something a little bit different. I hope you love Father Raphael as much as I do.

  Kelley. Thank you. You will never know how much your time and energy means to me. Thank you so much for working with me, betaing for me, tossing files back and forth with me. You are a livesaver, 100%.

  Winter...you’ve kept me sane these past three weeks. We’ll see how this turns out, but thank you for holding my hand the whole way and keeping me focused.

  And to my husband…sorry I’ve been working three straight weeks without a break. We can go see Deadpool now.

  Thank you guys!