Page 84 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

His calm demeanor isn’t giving off attack-dog vibes. Was I wrong to assume his violence meant a physical attack? If he genuinely wants to win, he’d have stripped his clothes, as they’d hinder him if wet. What if he kept them as a barrier for my pummeling fists, because he never intended to fight me? He’s going to be my punching bag instead.

“Are you actually going to spar with me?” I whisper low so that no one can hear.

“Do you know why the priest sits in the dark? Why we hide our faces behind the screen?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “Because in that moment, I am not a man you have to impress. I am a function. The Church trains us to be the filtration system for the soul. I am built to take the poison you are hoarding, Mercy.” His voice lowers to a deep baritone. “You are toxic right now because you are holding onto shame, thinking you deserve to burn with it. Give it to me. That is my job—to drink the bitter cup so you do not have to.”

My face twists. “So, you’re just going to stand there while I hurt you?”

“I am strong enough to swallow your demons and not choke.”

Outraged, I hiss, “I’ve told you nothing about my demons.”

“Exactly.”

He stares at me, and I stare back. This is beyond a release of tension. This is him overreaching where he’s not welcome. I understand he’s trying to help, but it’s making this worse.

“I am not your project.” I start circling him on light feet.

He is forced to move in the opposite direction, or risk tipping the balance.

“I know.” He prowls around as light-footed as me.

“If you intended for me to win, then why offer me whatever I want as a prize?” I quirk an eyebrow. “Do you assume I’ll choose something easy like making you report to me, or for you to give up your phone permanently?”

His lips curve slightly. “I was going to offer that anyway.”

That smug, sexy look grates my nerves. “And what if I were to ask to take your bedroom?”

“You can have it anyway.”

“And what if I want to fuck you in it?”

Twenty-Nine

Mercy

Cisco hesitates for so long that I think I broke him. The delay costs us the balance of our platform, and we both need to adjust our stances.

Once settled, he says, “You won’t ask for that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you said there is no us.”

“What if I changed my mind?”

“Have you?”

A beat of silence passes, and I forget that a crowd surrounds us. I search his eyes for signs he’s changed his mind about me.

“Are you guys going to fight or what?” Zeke groans loudly.

“Should I start the timer?” Raven asks.

I hold up a finger at her but keep my gaze on the priest.

“Last chance,” I purr, “to set your limits.”

He shakes his head. “No limits. Not with you.”