In a pique of anger she kicked off her clogs and planted one bent leg on the bench. “Socks? Socks?” she shrieked, stripping off a black knee-high and flinging it at him. “Here’s your damn sock!” As it hit the grate Tristan reflexively lurched back. “Happy?” she hissed, moving on to the other leg.
On an impassioned roll, unable to curtail the momentum, Kadence was being propelled by blind emotion rather than any rational thought as she next began removing her skirt. Not pausing long enough for her brain to weigh in on what she was doing, she tugged down the zipper, so forcefully the seam ripped.
Hundreds of tiny pink roses cascaded to the floor.
Stepping out of the pool of floral fabric, she snatched it up, bunched it in a wad, and channeling Nolan Ryan pitching a fastball hurled it at the window. “How about now?” she panted. “Am I absolved now, father?”
Tristan could only stare at her, jaw parked on his chest as Kady whipped off her jean jacket and slung it to the floor. With every article of clothing she removed her elbows banged into the walls of the confessional, the space about as roomy as a phone booth. With another layer quickly out of the way her fingers started fumbling with the buttons on her shirt.
Tristan’s eyes widened. What was the little idiot up to? He hadn’t told her to do that. Not yet, anyway. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“It’s what you want.”
“What I want is for you to stop assuming you know what I want. You don’t have a clue about me, woman, you never did.”
The remark would’ve stung had she not already considered the possibility herself. Obviously about some things she didn’t know him as well as she thought. His ruthless single-mindedness, for instance. Certainly she underestimated the twisted lengths to which he’d go to exact his revenge on her. He wasn’t just trying to belittle her. He seemed hell-bent on breaking her.
Well screw that!
As the last button on the blouse popped free, Kadence hesitated only briefly before letting the slick rayon fabric slither down her arms and to the floor. Hardly a second passed than a pair of smoky-jade eyes fastened like industrial-strength Velcro on her chest, or more accurately on the mounds of alabaster flesh overflowing the size-D cups of her white Playtex 18 Hour bra.
“What the f-fuck?”
Tristan’s hoarse utterance made Kady’s head cock. Did he just…?
Did he just stammer? And his voice… It cracked a little, right? The notion that Tristan might actually be flustered ignited a flame in her belly. That she might be responsible fanned it into a conflagration. Then it occurred to her. Could it be? Was it possible that she was the one sitting snug in the driver’s seat? Her brain began incubating an idea. What would happen if she turned the tables, she wondered? If the damn table was flipped on its damn head!
Before she was able to fully articulate what that meant exactly Kady heard herself say, “You win.”
The father’s forehead pleated like an accordion. He fucking what? The surrender was unexpected, and in a way strangely disappointing. He never figured divesting Kady of her dignity would be like taking candy from a baby. Well hell, where was the fun in that?
Despite trembling hands and arms heavy as lead, Kady inhaled a lungful of O2 courage and reached behind her. He wanted to play games, did he? Okay, Father Cleary… How about a game of chicken? Feeling her throat muscles start to close up she somehow managed to get the next words out in a clear, assertive voice.
“Let’s get this penance started.”
twenty
Taking hold of her bra clasp she arched her back, and the benign action thrust her breasts forward causing Tristan’s pupils to dilate at the unintentionally provocative pose. He drank her in from head to toe, his dick pulsing at the sight of big breasts, tiny waist, shapely legs, big breasts… With his face practically mashed up against the wire mesh, the holy father could’ve passed for a lecher leering through a girls’ locker room peephole.
But shit, how was that his fault? The woman standing there in nothing but her underwear was to blame. For giving him a chubby, which was fast turning into a woody, which the man of God needed about as much as a fucking hole in the head.
While he was struggling to quell his “growing” reaction, Kady was struggling to unfasten her bra. As she grappled with the clasp she cursed the obstinate eyehooks and her own clumsy ineptitude. Like pretty much everything else in her life her attempt at seduction was turning into a megaflop.
Wait, what? Seduction? No, that’s not what this was. Of course not. She was just… She was just… God, just what was she doing? (Shedding her clothes like it was amateur night at the strip club apparently.) Seemed Tristan wasn’t the only one who’d lost grip on all mental and moral faculties. No, she definitely wasn’t trying to seduce him. Her goal was to shame him.
Clinging to that objective like a barnacle to a boat, she resumed her task with renewed determination. Her persistence paid off. The clasp twisted free, the band popped loose, and her breasts catapulted out of the cups as the full-support underwire plummeted to the floor. Instead of feeling victorious, cold air hitting her bare breasts acted like an arctic blast of reality, bringing Kady back to her senses.
Oh dear God, please tell me I did NOT just do that.
She stood frozen in place—goosebumps stippling her exposed skin, the priest’s avid stare pebbling her nipples.
Jesus, did she really just do that?
Tristan could hardly believe what he was seeing. Sweet little baby Jesus, he had no idea. Not even an inkling. All those years. How could he not have known? All those years. The breasts behind the baggy sweatshirts were in a word, spectacular. Two words, fucking spectacular.
Though a tad late to the party, feminine instinct finally kicked in bringing Kady’s hands up to shield her modesty. Despite her crossed arms, she didn’t have as much coverage as she would’ve liked and no matter how she tried contain them, those big boobs of hers kept squishing out the sides. The dim lighting may have hidden the flush of embarrassment burning her cheeks but her uncontrollable trembling wouldn’t be so easily missed. She was vibrating like a jackhammer. Talk about a plan backfiring. Did she actually believe stripping off all her clothes was supposed to teach Tristan some kind of lesson? Standing catatonic in a confessional wearing only panties with him privy to all her body flaws wasn’t the outcome Kady envisioned when she started this—this—whatever this was.
The idea may have seemed brilliant at the time, but the one detail she hadn’t taken into account… The one that just threw a ginormous wrench in this whole idiotic plan… The one she hadn’t even remembered until now… Never in her life had Kadence Janacek stood naked in front of a man. Dear God, what possessed her to do something so outrageous?
It’s unbelievable how reckless you’ve become.
The last thing she wanted was to prove Tristan right. No damnit, she hadn’t come this far only to fail now. She had to see this—this—whatever this was to the end. Even if it killed her. Throwing back her shoulders, Kady elevated her chin, and by sheer force of will dropped her arms to her sides at the same time locking eyes with him. Standing still without squirming, however, was proving difficult.
Trying his damndest to hold her gaze, the father’s eyes began to water from the strain. It was a struggle keeping them from straying to her breasts. Breasts that were jutting proudly and defiantly, taunting him with their brazen nakedness and fucking perfection. The woman was more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. And he had done a lot of imagining about Kady. A lot. Of imagining.
His insides clenched into a fist of resentment realizing he never got to partake of those magnificent tits while some other guy had. How many, he wondered? How many others got to suckle her perky pink nipples while he never even got so much as a peek of them. Yeah, jackass, but whose choice was that? It wasn’t so much a choice as a decision Tristan had made back when he and Kady first started getting serious. To protect her from the beast of lust prowling within him, he felt forced to pl
ay the Puritan. He’d learned in early adolescence that the male libido was an unruly and willful entity that needed to be harnessed and controlled. His in particular.
Nan was right. He was an addict when it came to Kadence. And just as an alcoholic can’t take a small sip of booze without falling off the wagon, he knew he couldn’t risk taking even a tiny taste of her.
Now here she was, flaunting herself before him like a matador waving a red cape in front of a bull. Like Eve tempting Adam with a bite of forbidden fruit, which everyone knows is the sweetest kind.
“And just what is it you think you’re doing?” Asking the question as if to a child with its hand in the cookie jar, Tristan’s tone was artificially light but weighted with censure.
“What you told me to, of course,” Kady replied sweetly through clenched teeth.
“Please… refresh my memory, will you?” Equally saccharine and tight.
“Why I was merely—”
“Making a fool of yourself?”
She returned his brittle smile. “Who’s the fool, father?”
“The one standing there in nothing but her drawers would be my guess.”
“Or the pervert who demanded I take off my—”
“Socks.”
Whatever clever retort was on the tip of Kady’s tongue bailed when she was T-boned with the truth of it. Oh God, she really was the fool. The acknowledgment put her on the defensive, prompting her to lash out with a bitter reproach. “Damn you, Tristan. I’m not some trifle. A—a—a bauble. Some toy you can just toss in the dumpster when it no longer amuses you. I’m not nothing, and I’ll be damned if I let you make me feel less than.”
“Because you do that all by yourself?”
“Go to hell.”
“You’ve used that line already.”
“Well here’s one I haven’t. Fuck you!”
Fed up with all his bullshit and relentless ridicule, Kady snatched her things from the floor to make ready her escape. Not wanting to spend another minute trapped in this vertical coffin, she didn’t even bother putting on her shoes. As far as she was concerned this wretched night was over. Engaging in war games with Tristan was over. Trying to make amends for something she never did…
Over!
With her bundle clutched to her chest, she bolted out of the confessional like a thoroughbred out of the starting gate. Despite racing full speed toward the front doors, she made it only as far as the altar before being waylaid by a steely arm snagging her waist. “No!” she cried as her back collided with a wall.
Trying to break free from Tristan’s hold was like trying to get out of a straitjacket and for all her twisting and thrashing Kadence was left exhausted and humiliated. To make matters worse, she’d dropped the clothes that had been shielding her and was left once again in just panties.
“Let me go!
“The fuck I will.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he crushed her to his chest and hugged Kady so fiercely her feet came off the ground. With her arms pinned to hers sides she was completely immobilized, and being restrained that way made her think she knew how a helpless mouse felt being girded by a boa constrictor.
Myška. Oh yes, she definitely could relate to the rodent.
Accepting that she was no match for the muscular man’s superior strength, the hundred-ten pound weakling wisely surrendered the fight. “Don’t do this,” she panted.
“I’m not letting you leave.” Me was the word Tristan didn’t say. Dangerous enough thinking it. “You’re not going anywhere.” He lowered his head. “Not until I’m done with you.” This was relayed in a deep voice so softly ominous it caused the back of Kady’s neck to prickle.
In that instant she became aware of several facts all at once.
Tristan’s body was hot as a furnace. His heart was hammering just as hard and fast as hers. His banded arms were the only things covering her bare breasts. His breath smelled of peppermint and communion wine, his skin of soap and musk. His erection was knocking at her backdoor.
Dear God, Tristan had an erection. Awareness like a live wire sizzled its way from Kady’s tailbone to the top of her head, causing everything in its wake to raise and tighten, pores and nipples included. Unnerved by the idea that he was sexually aroused—and feeling confused by the elation and excitement she felt because of it—she panicked and began struggling anew.
Lust simmering just below the surface of Tristan’s icy facade was fast turning into an out of control, six alarm blaze threatening to burn him alive, and Kady’s efforts to free herself with all her squirming and wriggling was only fanning the flames hotter. He was supposed to be avoiding the fiery-pit, not jumping feet first into it.
Her house is the way to hell…
He had to concede he wasn’t being dragged there kicking and screaming. As much as he wanted to blame Kady for his weakness—for being his weakness—he knew he was stumbling down the path to perdition all on his own dime.
“Don’t fight me,” he advised through gritted teeth. “You won’t win.”
“Let go of me!”
“Christ, woman, stop moving!” His cock was so engorged it felt like it was going to split apart.
“You can’t keep me here against my will!”
“Just watch me.”
“You have no right!”
“No right?” he roared. Possessiveness like talons seized Tristan by the throat. “No right? I have every fucking right. You belong to me. Always did, always will. Despite everything, you’re still mine. Mine, Kadence! Time you started learning that.”
Stunned to stillness, Kady felt as if an anvil had crushed the air from her lungs. Because of Tristan’s declaration of ownership or because he said her name she didn’t know which. The woman in her was affronted by the caveman posturing. The girl, a bit leery of his aggressive turn. But God help her, the dumbass hopelessly in love with the SOB couldn’t help rejoicing at hearing him say that one little word. Mine.
The fuck?
Tristan wanted to punch himself in the face. Jesus, he did it. Actually said that out loud. Said it to her. But damnit, Kady did belong to him. Okay, so not like property. Not like an object or thing. Yet she was his all the same. His to cherish, to protect, nurture…
A bark of cynical laughter promptly deep-sixed that notion. Nurture? Who was he kidding? All he wanted at the moment was to fuck her.
Do it.
Perched on his left shoulder was a tiny devil in red tights prodding him with a tiny pitchfork. He’d been trying like hell to ignore the little prick but his pull was too strong.
Be sober-minded. Be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.
He ground his jaw. So where was that other guy? The dude donning wings and a halo who was supposed to be sitting on his opposite shoulder talking him down. Looked like the coward had abandoned the fight before the first round even got started.
Go on, priest… You know you want to. The little slut’s begging for it. She stripped naked for you, didn’t she? You’re more than halfway there already. Come on, I know you got a load of her rack. Wouldn’t you like to fill your hands with all that soft titty-meat? And those cherry nips… Fuck. Me. Remember how hard they were? She’s horny for you, bro. Bet if you were to slip your hand between her legs you’d find her cunt wet as rain. What the hell you waiting for? Just reach out and take what by all rights should’ve been yours to begin with.
Do. It.
“Tristan? I asked if you were planning to keep me here like this all night.”
“Would you like that?”
Even though she could hardly call it an embrace, Kady liked being in his arms. Liked it very much. Oh yes, she could stay this way all night. For the rest of her life if truth be told. But her fear of also staying forever Tristan Cleary’s emotional doormat bolstered her resolve to escape him.
“I—I want to leave.”
He put his mouth beside her ear. “Do you now?” From his low mocki
ng tone it was obvious he didn’t believe her. Why should he? Even she didn’t believe her.
“You should let me go,” she suggested lamely.
“Mm, and why’s that?” Tristan buried his face in her nape and decided he liked Kady’s hair up, after all.
She felt his breath, hot and moist against her skin. His lips, soft and seductive. They grazed her ear, sending a tingle to her scalp. “This is wrong.”
“You mean this?” A tongue flicked over the delicate outer shell, bringing her eyelids down like window shades.
“Yes. Th-that.”
He kissed her feminine sweet spot between neck and shoulder, dampening her panties. “Or this?”
“Uh-huh… that, too.”
“Or…” His lips moved idly down her spine, making her pussy pulse.
“Don’t,” she whispered, crossing her legs.
“ ‘The lady doth protest too much.’ ”
Kady was too loopy with pleasure to notice that the twin belts of corded muscle that had been imprisoning her had fallen away. Not even when she felt cold empty air where a warm sense of security used to be did it register. Yet in an unconscious bid to replicate the feeling, she hugged herself and wasn’t aware she’d been freed. Only that she felt suddenly bereft and couldn’t say why.
Tristan’s mouth abruptly halted its descent. “My necklace,” he murmured. There was an impression of his pectoral-cross indented in her skin. “It left behind a mark.”
So that’s what that was. Kady had felt something cold and hard digging into her bare back while crushed against him. It had kinda hurt. Right now, however, she felt as if she’d been zapped by a charge of static electricity.
The fine hairs on her body raised as Tristan lightly traced the outline of the cross. “Looks like a brand,” he stated thickly. He’d branded her.
The barbaric notion flooded his cock with possessive heat. Mine. By the fact he grunted like a Neanderthal, it was obvious he was missing the irony. That his “mark of ownership” on Kady happened to be a symbol of his faith and religion. In his defense, the holy father did have other things on his mind.
FATHER: Men of the Cloth - Tristan (Forbidden Priest Romance 1) Page 16