Chapter Seven #3
“Sort of. I have a small kitchen, this bedroom, and that attached bath. It’s plenty for me, but I apologize if it feels a little cramped for you. I’m sure you’re used to much larger, finer things.”
There’s a brief pause before she speaks again, the only sound coming from the water dripping from the faucet. “I’m not used to finer things. Trust me, I was born and raised in the woods. I’m most comfortable when I’m around rednecks doing redneck things. Also, I can’t take your bed.”
“I insist. You’ve had a long night,” I say as I tear the sticky sheets off the mattress and pull a new set from the closet in the bathroom. “What kind of man would I be if I let you go back out into the world exhausted, bruised, and alone? That wouldn’t be very godly of me.”
Here I go again, saying shit I should say while meaning something far more devious than how I’m saying them.
Of course I want this woman to stay. Of course I want her safe and protected next to me, but I’d be a liar if I ignored the fact that I want to watch her sleep and memorize the number of breaths she takes in a minute, cataloguing the way each one sounds.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing an old band T-shirt from my bottom drawer. “Change into this if you’d like, and I’ll turn back the sheets for you.”
“But I can’t take your bed. At least sleep next to me. We’re two adults, and you’re a priest. I trust you.”
A lump lodges in my throat as I let my mind wander to the weight of her body lying next to me all night.
I’d probably come on her fucking back in my sleep.
“No, thank you. I’ll sleep in the recliner there in the corner. It’s oddly very comfortable, and I’ll be right here to keep an eye on you if you need anything.”
“But—”
“No more buts. This is what I’m doing. Go get changed.”
She holds her gaze with mine as the command sits in the air, and I wonder for a second if she’ll follow it.
She does, and I’m thankful. I’m thankful because I have to pray. I have to pray for forgiveness, for guidance, for a path. The right path. The path that allows me to help this girl without ulterior motives. The path that allows me to be the priest to her I’m able to be to everyone else.
Unfortunately, my prayers aren’t working. All I’m thinking about is how naked she is on the other side of that door. How hard her nipples must be in the chill of the room. How pretty, pink, and soft her little pussy must feel.
A moment later, she spills out of the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest, covering her round little tits, her long bare legs swallowed by the fabric of my shirt.
My cock pulses at my zipper as I watch her sit on the edge of my bed, every masculine impulse inside of me desperate to grab her ankles, tug her little ass up, and fuck her until she’s begging me to stop. Then, once I’ve made her mine, I go find the asshole she was married to and murder him.
I meditate on that plan for a moment and redirect my focus toward the light.
“I usually shower around six and take a ride out to the lake for some morning reflection. You’re welcome to join me, but feel free to sleep in,” I say, tucking the blanket up around her shoulders. “I’m sure you could use the extra sleep given the night you’ve had.”
“No, actually,” she whispers, her blue eyes staring up at me, “a ride sounds nice. I haven’t been to the lake in ages. Which one do you like?”
“There’s this spot out of town I go to. Not sure if the lake has a name or not. I just know there’s not many people there, and it’s a good spot to remember how insignificant I am.”
Her eyes close and open again quickly as though they’re heavy, her head laying on the same pillow I was dreaming about her on an hour before. “I can’t wait to see it,” she says, drifting off again. “If you change your mind and want to join me, I probably wouldn’t even feel it.”
“Sounds good,” I say, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Good night.”
“Good night,” she mumbles, no mention of the kiss, thank God.
It’s not like I haven’t kissed anyone’s forehead before. I kiss plenty of foreheads. I kiss foreheads all the time, though I’ve never thought about it as much as I’m thinking of it now. It’s never felt as wrong… because of those ulterior motives again.
I need to tell her the truth. I need to tell her how I feel, get all this out in the open, and let her choose whether she’d feel safer with another priest.
Not tonight, though. Tonight she’s been through too much. Tonight she’s content in my bed, already fast asleep. I’ll tell her in the morning.
I watch her body for far too long. The rise and fall of her hips. The way she sighs in her sleep. The way she throws her arm up in the air when she twists and turns. Lord, I hope she’s not having a nightmare. A nightmare about the slime who hurt her.
My chest tightens at the mere thought of some self-important, shit leader of a man coercing control over this woman with physical abuse.
I shouldn’t want to hurt him like I do. I should leave that to God.
I should pray that my little lamb is shrouded in the safety of God’s arms. That he watches over her and keeps this man from her life.
I drift off in my recliner with a prayer for Wren’s safety on my lips.