Page 94 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

I try not to move. This is the most honest I’ve seen him. It takes my breath away.

And he’s still looking at me as if he wants to do all those things he probably thinks I’ve forgotten. But I know. I heard. Now I can’t stop looking at the white strip of cotton hanging from his torn collar.

He rubs his lower lip with his thumb as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

So I look away. Down. Shit. Somewhere else. Look somewhere else other than his sculpted abdomen, contracting with every ragged lung fill. Definitely don’t look at the bulge—fuck me, it’s battling his belt for freedom.

Water springs into my mouth.

“Mercy.” It’s his confessional voice, not the soft, understated voice. The one that demands attention and always sounds right. The one I’m starting to think is just for me. “Whose hands are these?” he asks, lifting his tattooed hands.

I arch my brow. “Is this a trick question?”

“Answer me.”

“Obviously, they’re yours.”

He puts his hands on his belt, and my heart stops. “Whose belt is this?”

Um. “Yours?”

“Molto bene.” His words are praise, but his tone still sounds angry. I’m starting not to care because he’s unbuckling, and my temperature is spiking, and there’s a hot pulsing need in my lower belly.

Cisco slips the belt from the loops and dangles the leather strip between us.

“So, then,” he growls, “who took this off me?”

“You did.”

My gaze lifts, and he sees it in my eyes, the moment I realize where he’s going with this. His lips curve ever so slightly as he folds the belt strap in two and stalks toward me.

He stops toe to toe, leans into my space, and taps me on the shoulder with the looped strap. He almost says something, then clenches his jaw and exhales through his nose as if summoning patience. Finally, he lets it out. “Did you make me want to take it off?”

“I feel like I should say no.”

Brown eyes flash, and I know I’m doing my thing again, pushing his buttons, wanting him to snap.

“A woman cannot make a man feel ‘ugly’ things for her, capito?”

“Are you going to spank me, Father?” I purr. “Punish me for my behavior?”

“I’m starting to think I should,” he mutters. Then louder. “Pain and pleasure seem to be the only things you understand.”

I smile coyly at him.

His brows slam down. “But this is what you want. It would only give you more reasons to believe this bullshit about being rotten.”

That hits hard, directly between the ribs. “Fuck you.”

“So it’s true. This is why you won’t come to confession. This is why you say there is no us. Tell me I am wrong.”

Indignation waters my eyes. “How dare you!”

“I am right, aren’t I?”

“Is your curse your reason there is no us?”

His jaw clicks shut.