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Father Byron just chuckled to himself as I clutched the cloths over Lyric’s naked body so he wouldn’t see. I stared at the older man, the man I’d known my entire life, and one of the people I’d gone to for guidance over the things I wanted.
He just clucked his tongue with a laugh I didn’t understand. “What on earth are we going to do with you, Zepherin?”
A slimy, sinking feeling came over me. I didn’t like the look in his eyes—or the way his gaze kept drifting to Lyric.
28
LYRIC
Ilay there, completely horrified by what we’d done. Shame crept over me. As a stripper who had never pretended to be something I wasn’t, if I’d taken every person’s judgments on board, I would have never gotten out of bed in the mornings.
But we’d crossed a line here. Zeph and me. One he would now have to pay for.
I didn’t want to be the person who destroyed him, and yet here I was, undoing a lifetime of therapy, ruining everything he’d worked for.
He’d been set on his path before me, and now he was whispering I love yous to a woman he’d fucked on an altar while his boss and mother watched on in horror.
That wasn’t love. Not the true love my grandmother spoke of. That was some sort of messed-up defiance. A ‘fuck you’ to the two of them for denying him the things he’d wanted and making him feel less than.
I was his rebellion.
I wasn’t sure when he’d gotten himself dressed, but then he was scooping me into his arms, wrapping the cloths from the altar around me tightly and carrying me away from the scene of the crime. Bright sunlight blinded me, and I turned into him, burying my face in the familiar scent of his neck as he carried me to his home.
“No one can see you,” he promised. “I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head, not even knowing what to say. I was just as much to blame as he was. I could have used my safe word but I’d been too full of attitude and turned on by the games we played. With every gentle bump against his chest, I was reminded that playing with fire always ended up with someone getting burned.
Zeph and I had just exploded.
He paused at the door to his place, opening it and carrying me inside. He walked me straight to his bathroom, setting me down on the closed toilet. He cupped my face with both hands, tilting it up so he could look into my eyes, and then kissed me softly. “It’ll be okay.”
It wouldn’t. Not if his mother carried out her threats to report me. Not if he and I kept doing things like this. I was beginning to think she was right. That I was no good for him. That together, we were destructive.
His bathroom was old-fashioned and overdue for a renovation. The floor tiles were a faded checkerboard, the white more an aged cream now from so many decades of use. But it was clean and tidy, and the ancient claw-foot bath was beautiful and twice the size of my tub at home. Zeph stepped over to it now, turning on the faucet and letting the water fall.
I watched him from my huddle, clutching the holy cloths we’d defiled to my chest. Steam rose off the water, and I didn’t argue when Zeph took the cloths from my naked body and carried me to the tub.
The temperature was perfect, and I sank down into the warmth, letting it wash away not only the physical products of what we’d done in the church but also the sins.
Zeph undressed himself, dropping his clothes into a hamper in the corner before climbing in behind me. I scooted forward to make room for him, tucking my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
“Come here.” He pressed a kiss to the curve of my spine.
Even though I was pretty sure our contract was done, I did as he asked because I wanted to. I leaned back into his embrace, the water sloshing around us. It warmed my oversensitive and tingly flesh that hadn’t yet woken up to the fact the amazing sex we’d just had would be the end of us.
A sob crept up my throat at the thought of giving him up. But I had to. It was what was best for both of us. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Committing fraud. Screwing a man in the most inappropriate of places. Risking his mother calling CPS. I had thought I had no limits, and yet apparently, I did.
We’d crossed them.
I relaxed against his chest, dropping the back of my head to his shoulder as his arms came around me to rest beneath my tits. His thumb stroked the underside absently.
“I don’t want you to worry about what happened just now. It’s for the best.”
I stared at the mirror on the wall opposite us. Stared at my face and then at his. He watched me carefully in the reflection, his expression full of worry.
I couldn’t answer him. Nothing that had just happened had been for the best. We were completely out of control. But when his lips pressed against my neck, there was nothing I could bring myself to do to stop him. One hand slid up to cup my breast, the other snaking beneath the water to my pussy.
I couldn’t deny him. I wanted him too much, even after everything.
