She nodded, his hands still in hers.
He intertwined their fingers and squeezed. “C’mon, we’ll go into the living room.”
Normally, he’d settle into his chair in the corner of the room, next to his bookcase and reading lamp, but while he held Emelia’s hand, he needed to keep her close. Which was why he led her to the sofa and pulled her down beside him.
He rested back and dropped his head against the sofa while he stared up at the ceiling. Nothing was up there, but in his mind he saw Emelia smiling up at him through heavily lidded eyes as she bent and took him into her mouth.
He shot into more of a sitting position and winced at the uncomfortable position of his dick behind his zipper. The best thing to do would be to get his apology over with and head over to his church...he just wasn’t sure it would work out that way, or if he even had the heart to do that.
“Em, I need to apologize to you.” He met her worried gaze, and used his free hand to cup her face. “I rejected you back in Montana. I wouldn’t let you close enough to offer the comfort that I saw on your face.” He paused and admitted, “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let you go if I let you close...do you understand, Em. I crave you like I do my next breath, and I was so upset that I’d have said hell to it and taken what I badly wanted...which was you.” He chuckled, and sighed, “I’ve even started cursing, which I’ve managed to refrain from for nearly seven years.”
“You said wanted, as in past tense…“ Emelia questioned while he continued to caress along her cheekbone with his thumb.
“There is nothing past tense about my feelings for you.”
To his surprise, Emelia moved and quickly straddled him. The apex of her thighs pressed against his throbbing erection that strained behind his zipper. His hands landed on her thighs, which he gripped as though he was about to push her away, except he couldn’t bring himself to do that.
“Look at me, Dante,” Emelia begged. “Please.” Her breath fanned his face, which told him that she was a breath away from him.
He opened his eyes and saw all the love that she had for him clear as day reflected in hers.
When Emelia wiggled on his lap, his breath caught and his hands pressed her down against him as his hips arched in pleasure. He was so hard that he was afraid his dick would snap in two with how he was positioned in his pants.
“You have to stop tempting me,” he hissed between his clenched teeth. “You feel too good.”
Emelia slid her hands to his shoulders and rotated her hips, which sent another bolt of lust straight to his groin. It had been seven years, at least, since he’d last had sex, and then it had been unsatisfying. But with Emelia on top of him, his pleasure was so close to the pinnacle that he needed to stop her. To move her from on top of him, but as his eyes caressed up her torso, his eyes widened at the sight of her hard nipples through her T-shirt.
She moaned and threw her head back while she rubbed against him. “Help me...Dante, please...so close.”
He panted and growled, knowing it was wrong, but it felt so right. His hands slid up her thighs, and, when he gripped her hips, he helped her ride him.
His dick was so hard and there was a continuous tingle as he released precum. He couldn’t have held off his release even if he’d tried. So, as he heard a catch in Emelia’s breathing before he witnessed her eyes flutter with pleasure, he closed his eyes and let the sound of his woman’s orgasm wash over him while he spilled into his pants.
He held her down on him as he finally met her satisfied smile. Her hands slid to the nape of his neck and caused his body to shudder in pleasure before she dropped her forehead to his. She chewed on her lip as though she wanted to say something but didn’t know how. He knew her better than anyone. “My first man-made orgasm,” she finally whispered against his lips.
His eyes popped wide. “No one has ever bothered to pleasure you?” The thought of her with anyone other than him made his blood boil, but to think that she’d been with some bastard who didn’t know how to pleasure her made him want to cause harm.
Emelia shook her head and wrapped herself around him. The most natural thing in the world was when he wrapped his arms tightly around her back, with one hand caressing her beautiful, silky hair.
She buried her face against his neck, and admitted, “I’ve never let anyone touch me, Dante.”
His hand stilled at her confession. “What?”
“I fell in love with you. I never looked at anyone else.”
“Let me get this straight in my mind. You’ve never been with a man? You’re still a virgin?”
“Yes.”
“Em, look at me.”
She tipped her head back against his arm and, reaching up, caressed his whisker-covered jaw. “The thought of anyone but you touching me made me feel sick.” She smiled. “When I gave my heart to you, it would have been like being unfaithful to allow anyone else to touch me in that way. I just couldn’t do it.”
His blood thrummed through his veins at the thought of making love to the woman in his arms, he just wasn’t sure he could as long as he stayed a man of God—a priest.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” he admitted.
Emelia looked hurt and tried to pull away but his grip tightened as he clarified what he meant, “I said that we shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t say anything about regretting it. I don’t, Em. I should, but I don’t.”
“I don’t either...I love you, Dante. So much.” She settled against him.
He kissed her on the top of her head and admitted what she already knew, “I love you, and I have for years.”
“I know,” she whispered as he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the guest bedroom.
She was tired, and probably hadn’t slept much since the discussion back in Montana. As he looked down at her snuggled down in the bed, he realized that it would be so easy to join her.
Chapter Twenty-One
For the first time in months, Emelia had slept all night without waking once, until morning. At first, she thought it was early morning with how dark it seemed behind the curtains, but as she padded over to the window and looked out, she realized another blizzard was in full force.
She loved the snow when there was nowhere to go, but she desperately wanted to watch Dante at Sunday Mass, which was why she’d worn a dress that reached her knees. It was fitted, but didn’t reveal any flesh, as it was a turtleneck with long sleeves. She’d worn thick, black tights to keep her legs warm when she stepped outside in the snow, along with knee-high black boots. Other than her dress, which was purple, she wore black and probably looked as though she was heading to a funeral.
Sunday Mass always followed with refreshments in the hall next to the church, so she didn’t want to let Dante down. She wanted him to be happy that she was there, instead of worried. She wanted him to know that she loved him.
He caused her sadness and she wished with all her heart that he’d listened to her back when because they could have been married before he joined the priesthood. Their relationship would have been accepted in the eyes of God then. But as long as Dante stayed a priest, there was no hope for them to be together. He could never marry her, give her children, well that kind of came under the no sex rule.
If she didn’t stop thinking, she’d give herself a headache. As it was, her stomach churned, but that could be lack of nourishment and hiding in the guest bedroom wouldn’t help solve that problem.
She’d been disappointed when she’d woken and found where Dante had left her. She knew that he wouldn’t have put her in his bed, but finding herself where she did hurt. She’d have to get over it because, even though they’d brought each other pleasure on the sofa, she knew that Dante had strong morals. You didn’t fight to keep your feelings buried for years without.
Finally ready to face the world, Emelia made her way downstairs, and stopped when she witnessed the sexy man in the kitchen dancing while he made breakfast. She leaned against the doorjamb and watched him with
a smile on her face.
He really was a handsome, sexy man and, dressed all in black like he was, he made her heart beat faster. He stopped moving around when she let out a groan when he rotated his hips.
His head swiveled toward her and his eyes widened when he caught sight of her. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.” She smiled, and moved further in to the room.
“I made you breakfast, although we’ll have to eat it quickly and head over to the church.” Dante placed French toast and syrup on the table and shrugged. “What can I say, my favorite.”
“I know.” She took a bite and smiled. “I’m kinda partial to it as well.”
He smiled and she sensed a slight hesitation in him. He seemed relaxed as he ate his breakfast, but there was something that she couldn’t put her finger on. “Is everything okay?”
He paused with a slice of French toast on the way to his mouth, which he dropped back to his plate. “After what happened on the sofa, I’m nervous...and the need in me to be with you completely for the rest of our lives is very close to the surface.” He had paled while he spoke, which worried her and brought tears to her eyes when he continued, “I have to give a sermon today about sin and absolution, while I sin on a daily basis, with thoughts of you...and there is nothing innocent about them.”
A long silence followed while Dante seemed lost in thoughts of his own, and Emelia wondered whether she’d ever get the opportunity to spend her life with the man she loved.
He loved being part of the Catholic Church and that was clear for anyone to see. That would be why the people of Frederick loved and respected him. He gave his all for the people that relied on him.
“We need to leave,” he announced, and made her jump.
She caught her breath to steady her heart as the thoughts shifted to the feel of Dante under her hands. Her mind wouldn’t let her forget how he felt against her when she’d stroked his torrid flesh or how he tasted when he’d released into her mouth. He’d been even more beautiful then. Since that night, a pulse had throbbed insistently between her thighs.
“Emelia,” Dante growled.
Her eyes snapped to him by the door and she realized she’d been caressing him with her eyes. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, and his whole body was riddled with tension as she finally let her eyes rest on his groin and the huge bulge that twitched and grew even larger before her eyes.
“I need to put a handful of snow in my pants,” he mumbled.
Emelia blinked and then started laughing as she walked toward him. “I wouldn’t mind putting the snow down for you,” she chuckled, “after all, it was the, um, hardness in them that had me lost in memory.”
He quickly pulled his jacket on but wouldn’t meet her gaze.
She wouldn’t be ignored, even though she sensed he needed to ignore her to keep himself in check.
Against her better judgment, she teased, “I was remembering how arousing it was to run my fingers over your hard flesh...how much you made me tingle and throb between my thighs when you spilled your seed into my mouth.”
“Fucking hell,” he roared, and slammed out of the house.
Well, that was a reaction.
She frowned and bit her lip as she slipped into her own jacket and followed him outside. Second thoughts had hit her the minute he’d cursed, and then misery set in.
Dante walked in front of her mumbling to himself, and the bits she caught reminded her of a prayer she’d once been taught that asked for absolution—to be set free of all sins.
She should have kept her mouth closed.
Knowing that Dante felt the same about her as she did him, and after what they’d done on the sofa the night before, had given her the confidence to tease him. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought of doing before.
He was a Catholic priest who believed in what he’d agreed to do many years before, and because of her, he was being pulled in two directions.
As she stepped through the doors of the church, she realized that she had to be the one to walk away. She had to be the one to make the decision for them both. She would listen to his sermon one last time, and make the most of her last day with him without causing him to break one of his vows, and then, tomorrow, she would fly to Diego in New York.
Helping herself to coffee and a chocolate chip cookie, Emelia became overwhelmed with sadness and sighed heavily into her cup. She didn’t look up when she felt Dante’s eyes on her, and she had felt his gaze since they’d come into the hall after Mass. If she met his gaze, she wouldn’t be able to hide her emotions and would probably give away her true feelings for him. She couldn’t let that happen.
“So,” a man she didn’t know drawled, “you’re the priest’s sister?” He gave her a once over, and his eyes showed that he liked what he saw.
He appeared harmless, so she smiled and introduced herself, “Emelia De La Fuente.” She held her hand out to him.
“Sean Miller.” He shook her hand and lingered, tightening when she tried to pull her hand free.
“I’m new in town, but I sure wouldn’t mind you as a tour guide.”
She smiled. “Sorry, I’m planning on heading out tomorrow.”
“Anywhere warmer?” He grinned.
“New York.”
He looked disappointed. “You live in New York?”
She wasn’t going to get into her family with a stranger. “Yeah, with my brother.”
“I have two older brothers,” he volunteered, and helped himself to a slice of the lemon drizzle cake that she knew Barbara had made.
“I have a few more than that.” When he raised his brow in question, she glanced across the hall and met the angry eyes of Dante before she turned back to Sean, and added, “Six, one of which is my twin. The one I live with in New York.”
“That’s a pity because you’d sure brighten up my life around here.”
She smiled in return and watched him while he talked to Barbara, who had seen him take a slice of her cake. The older woman never missed an opportunity to meet the new arrivals in town. Even if she hadn’t seen him with her own eyes, she knew because Dante had told her.
Sean was a handsome man. Not as tall or with a body as well cared for as Dante’s, but he appeared harmless, and boyishly cute with the way his blond hair flopped into his eyes.
“I want a word with you,” Dante hissed, and wrapped his hand tightly around Emelia’s elbow. “Excuse us.” His fingers dug into the flesh of her arm as he dragged her out of the hall and through the cold snow back to his cabin.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As Dante watched Emelia flirt and chat with Sean, he lost all reason. He might be a priest but he was a man, and he knew what Sean had been thinking. Dante couldn’t let it carry on.
Emelia was his and no other man would touch her or flirt with her. His blood pounded though his veins at the thought and at what he’d witnessed. If he let her go, then he’d have to watch that repeatedly until she found a man to call her husband.
No. No. No. No!
He slammed the cabin door, pushed her up against it and slammed his mouth down on top of hers. He held her head in place while he devoured her mouth. His tongue pushed for access, and when she gave it, they both moaned in pleasure as their tongues swirled as one, in a passion he hadn’t experienced before.
Emelia gripped his waist, and kept him close while his hands roamed down her sides to grip her hips. He rubbed his aroused flesh against her, and tried to get closer. He needed to touch skin. He needed to feel her arousal. Taste it.
His mouth watered…
She’s a virgin.
He groaned and forced himself to break from the kiss and placed a chaste kiss to her lips. “Not against the door,” he told her when she whimpered, wanting more. His forehead rested against hers while he tried to catch his breath. “Our first time isn’t going to be against a door. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“There’s going to be a first time?”
He couldn’t blame her for asking, but the minute he’d completely lost all reason back in the hall, he knew that there would be. “There is going to be a first time, and there’s going to be a lot more. I can’t be two people anymore, Em.”
“I was going to leave you to your church tomorrow and head back to New York. I didn’t want you to hate me for making you choose between us,” Emelia softly cried.
“I’d have followed you.”
Emelia shook her head and wrapped herself around him while he held her close against his hard body.
She belonged with him, and as long as he had her by his side, he knew that everything would, one day, be okay.
“Em, listen to me.” He moved her away so that he could look into her face. “I want you to pack a bag. Enough for two nights.” He kissed her on the forehead, knowing that if he went for her lips they wouldn’t be going anywhere. “Hurry. It’s a couple of hours drive, and then I’ll have you all to myself with no interruptions.”
He smiled at the bemused expression on her face, and admitted quietly, “I’m not sure what’s going to happen in the long run with me and the church, but one thing I do know is that I’m not prepared to lose you to someone else. You’ve always been mine, and that’s the way it’s going to stay...Now, quickly go pack a bag. I’ll leave a note for Barbara and then grab my own.”
“Okay.”
She hesitated before dashing the rest of the way upstairs as he watched her go.
His body ached for her and, but for the fact that the cabin belonged to the church, he’d have had her under him in his bed. He couldn’t do that. He’d made the decision to be with Emelia, and he knew just the place to show her what she meant to him. If he didn’t get a move on, she’d be ready to leave before he’d even gotten to his office.
With a smile on his face, he made his way to his office and sat behind his desk to write a quick note to Barbara. He let her know that he’d taken Emelia up into the mountains. As he sat there, his eyes landed on the photograph that was taken seven years ago of him with the bishop.
Love in Purgatory (De La Fuente #2) Page 11
