Seven years ago, she was sheltered. In need of guidance. I was a newly-ordained priest with a vow of celibacy. Our love affair was torrid, and wrong, and ended in heartbreak.
We broke it off and went our separate ways.
I left the priesthood. She left her home.
Seven years later, she’s stranded in my NYC Club while a blizzard rages outside, and she wants a taste of dominance.
I won’t let another man lay eyes on her, much less touch her.
She’s still my everything. My salvation.
And there’s no way I’m letting her go.
“I wanted to push you to safeword,” he confesses, a note of regret in his voice. “But you won’t, will you?”
“No,” I whisper. My throat tightens. I want to open my eyes, but I want to obey him even more. “Why would I ever need to safeword with you?”
“I’m not safe, Chandra.” He brushes my thighs with his lips, soft and sweet, and my head falls back, my eyes squeezing closed tighter. I’m growing accustomed to the low throb between my thighs, and pulse of need. I’m riding it like a high. I can control this. I can take this. I’m strong, and I can do this.
When he suckles the skin at my thighs, I arch my back. I let out an involuntary whimper, and my mind flashes to our first time together. I remember.
We’re in his bed, sheets of pristine white tangled around our bodies, and he holds me as if he doesn’t want me to fly away, so close our sweat-slicked skin melds together as one. He’s trembling himself, exercising restraint like a bridled stallion. I can feel the way he wants to claim me with savage, hard thrusts. But it’s my first time, and he doesn’t want to hurt me.
He took his time ravishing my body, kissing every inch of me until my whole body teemed with need, working his way down with flutters of adoration from my temple to my toes. There isn’t a place on my body that hasn’t been blessed with his mouth, not a place he hasn’t worshipped with his tongue or hands. And now I want him. Now I need him in me, the sudden desperate longing clawing at my chest. I’m a virgin and sex scares me, but now I need him like the sun-parched earth needs rain. I’ll wither and die until he makes me his. Though they would damn us to hell, every single one of them, my heart knows better. My heart knows the truth.
This is right. This is perfect.
“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he whispers in my ear, the deep, tender voice making tears spring to my eyes.
“Not too gentle,” I whisper, a joke and a plea that makes him chuckle.
“I love you,” he whispers, as he glides into me. My chest expands with the words and motion, and I clasp my arms around his broad, muscled back.
“I love you,” I whisper, a delicious friction fusing our bodies together.
USA Today Bestselling author Jane has been writing since her early teens, dabbling in short stories and poetry. When she married and began having children, her pen was laid to rest for several years, until the National Novel Writing Challenge (NaNoWriMo) in 2010 awakened in her the desire to write again. That year, she wrote her first novel, and has been writing ever since. With a houseful of children, she finds time to write in the early hours of the morning, squirreled away with a laptop, blanket, and cup of hot coffee. Years ago, she heard the wise advice, “Write the book you want to read,” and has taken it to heart. She sincerely hopes you also enjoy the books she likes to read.
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