by Sosie Frost
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 m
ost 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 the 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
Bad Boy’s Baby
Bad Boy’s Baby - Synopsis
Play-maker. Trouble-maker. Baby-maker?
Star professional quarterback Jack Carson has the worst reputation in the league. He’s arrogant and gorgeous, and if he’s not in bed with a new woman, he’s sleeping off the party in a jail cell.
But now he’s gotten in trouble too many times and needs my help to protect his career. As his publicist, I’ve hidden his dirty exploits and silenced the sexy rumors…but I missed the hottest scandal of the year.
Apparently, Jack and I are dating.
When the trouble-maker lies to the league and claims we’re in a committed relationship, he jeopardizes both our jobs. I can’t trust the tattooed bad boy, but now I’m stuck defending him. I have to make him seem respectable—no matter what.
But his shameful reputation isn’t fixed with a few photos of us on a date. With the league determined to expel him for bad-behavior, Jack has only one option to convince them he’s wholesome, dependable, and responsible.
Jack Carson wants to start a family.
And he’s chosen me to give him the baby.
Bad Boy’s Baby
Copyright © 2015 by Sosie Frost
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations
http://mayhemcovercreations.com/
Cover Images Purchased from: http://www.depositphotos.com
Created with Vellum
Jack
A party wasn’t a party unless I had two women begging to take me home.
And the fun only started when I agreed to fuck both of them.
The blonde grinded against me first. Not that I wasn’t partia
l to blondes, just had seen a lot of them lately. Blue-eyes, sexy curls, lips that pouted more than they’d ever smile. She was the kind of girl who’d suck out a man’s willpower through his cock then demand a credit card to go shopping. I’d learned to stay away from those girls. Good for one fuck, maybe two, but then they’d always want the same thing.
Money. Tickets for their friends. A car. New tits.
Somewhere out there, four women had eight, brand new tits courtesy of Jack Carson. It was almost like a public service.
And the league said I needed to devote more time to charity. I was doing the world enough favors.
Only a few of my teammates joined us for the night out. Half of them took off before the party got rowdy. The rest grabbed more beer and a girl of their choice.
I ordered the waitresses to bring us another round of everything—alcohol, wings, phone numbers. The music pounded, and two of my teammates shook the jukebox until their change poured out. The R&B blared, and some of the girls started to dance.
And those lovely ladies knew just what to shake.
After a song—and three discarded thongs—another handful of coeds slipped into our private room. They giggled as they recognized the stars of the Ironfield Rivets and paraded to my table. I let one through, a pretty little brunette I stacked next to the blonde.
Now this brunette I liked.
She wore a sexy black dress, something deserving of the Vegas strip, not the city of Ironfield. When she curled into my lap, the hem rose. I covered that exposed thigh with a hand.
Soft. Warm. She’d do for a night.
The brunette coo’ed, fake and practiced. She didn’t need to patronize me. I preferred a real moan. My fingers tucked inside her panties.
Shaved.
I liked that.
I tickled until I earned her genuine, sexy sigh, except my flirting pissed the blonde off. That wouldn’t do. I gave her a wink, and she settled down, leaning close enough to let me glance at her tits. She had a better rack than the brunette. The heart-shaped tattoo was familiar though…