by Lily White
Releasing the bite, he spoke against my skin. “I forgive you.”
“Show me,” I whispered.
A sound emanated from his throat, a growl, or something I couldn’t quite name, but it wasn’t the sound that pinned me to the wall, that broke me down piece by agonizing piece – it was his hands.
Still holding my wrists against the wall, he released my hip to slide his palm down, his fingers moving between my legs until just one tip found the spot that had me crying out from the pleasure versus the pain, from the rush of sensation that was so intoxicating it was a delicious poison seeping beneath my skin.
Slowly, his hand moved, my legs spreading apart on their own. Rubbing back and forth, he teased me, he worked me, his hand trapped me with its movement. I was unable to escape, unable to breathe past the need that consumed me.
A tip pressed against the entrance, circling ever so slow over the sensitive rim that my heart raced, my eyes closed and opened again.
He was staring at me, the intensity in his gaze as frightening as it was seductive. I could feel my sin coming to the surface, could feel the temptation exploding inside me.
His finger slipped inside my body and my muscles gripped him, refusing to let go.
Driving his hand slowly in and out, he watched me without blinking, his eyes locked to mine. I feared to look away, feared not letting him see me, see the devotion I had for him alone.
But I couldn’t hold my eyes open as his hand moved faster, as his other hand gripped tighter over my wrists. The force of him between my legs pushed me onto my tiptoes, the back of my head falling against the wall, my hair tugged from my scalp where it was trapped behind my shoulders.
My hips moved with the thrust of his hand, my bottom banging against the wall with each punishing blow.
Lowering his head, his teeth locked over the taut peak of my breast, and when he bit down, sinking the edges into my flesh, I cried out and lost all control.
Pain and pleasure.
Sin and forgiveness.
Master and slave.
God and the Devil combined.
We were all of those things, and I was the helpless addict, a woman who had no course in life but to seek his staggering warmth.
Another finger pushed in, followed by another. Stretched so tight, I didn’t know how I would keep from being pushed over the edge of madness.
My body wouldn’t stop hitting against the wall, the strength and power of his hand relentless. The sin was drawing closer, pulsing against my skin, fighting to be released as I was shoved into God’s light, knocked from the precipice of hatred and doubt, and catapulted into pure forgiveness.
I was his Eve again.
His one.
His only.
The woman who was born to walk beside him.
Something crashed to the floor beside us, but I couldn’t look to see what clattered against the ground. There were too many stars in my eyes, too much toxic desire that I was lost to everything but the man who continued tormenting me with his hand.
I knew it wouldn’t last. I somehow understood that he wouldn’t give me a part of himself.
When my body relaxed against his, when my lips parted on the final force of breath that was expelled by the release he gave me, he pulled away from me, but still held me up with his hands gripped over my hip and wrists.
I could feel the slickness of my release against my skin.
And it only made me want him more.
I wondered if he would ever fully exorcise the sexual demon that lived inside me.
“You’ve confessed,” he finally said, his voice broken and gritty, his jaw so tense I worried his teeth would shatter beneath the pressure.
He released my wrists and made sure I was steady on my feet before releasing my hip. Cold air rushed in to caress my skin where his warmth no longer existed.
On shaky legs, I followed behind him as we left the room, but something called for me to look back.
I almost wished I’d resisted.
Only feet from where we’d been standing, the crucifix that had hung on the wall above our heads was now embedded upside down in the wooden floor.
. . .
I fell asleep to Elijah’s hands playing through my hair, and I woke up that way as well.
It was still dark outside, the morning sun not yet high enough to breach the horizon with the warmth of its light. From outside the window, the night birds sang their chorus, the land was quiet except for the nocturnal creatures that still hadn’t found it necessary to crawl to their beds.
“You’ve done well, Eve.”
Soft, soothing, and utterly hypnotic, his voice was alive inside me, all around me, swallowing me within its endless depth. I slid my gaze to where he sat beside me, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.
As usual, he was draped in deep shadow, his black clothes lost to the velvet darkness of the room.
But there was nothing dark enough, no shadows deep enough, that could prevent me from seeing the clear focus of his eyes, the penetrating stare that haunted my sleep and chased me through the endless hours of night.
“Elijah,” his name fell off my lips as a reverent prayer. “You stayed with me.”
His fingers stroked through my hair, sweeping it back from my face.
“How can I leave a woman who was made for me? How can I deny myself your perfect obedience?”
Light filled my heart, spilling over into my body until all I could feel was the heat of it beneath my skin. He’d forgiven me. I was his again.
Leaning down, he pressed his lips to my forehead, his fist tightening in my hair. A moan crawled up my throat, tears welling in my eyes in response to his seductive violence.
“I’m yours, Elijah. My body is yours. My soul –“
Pulling his mouth from my skin, he jerked my upper body from the mattress by my hair, his fingers fisting into the thick silk even more. I shook beneath the force of his hold, but I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream or refuse him in any way.
Why was he angry? I’d confessed to everything. He’d forgiven me. He wouldn’t have tucked me into bed so tenderly if I were still exiled on the perimeter staring in at the grace he could offer me.
His mouth pressed against my ear, his breath whispering against my skin. “I may have forgiven you, Eve, I may have touched you in ways I know you’ll always crave, but how can I trust you? You ran from me. You left me standing there while you listened to another man tell you what to do. How can I believe that your devotion is what it needs to be?”
“Please,” I breathed out, the pain of his grasp leaking out of my voice.
“Please, what?”
“I can’t live without you. I’ll do anything, Elijah. Anything you could possibly want or need. Just, please, don’t leave me. I’ll die without you.”
His chest shook with soft laughter. I wasn’t sure if this was a nightmare brought on by the terror of the night, or if he really held me, if he was really laughing at the pain so obvious in my voice.
Trailing his lips along my cheek, he found my bottom lip and bit down, his teeth pulling away fast enough for his mouth to cover mine, for him to swallow the moans that escaped me.
Fingertips trailed down my body, between my breasts, over my stomach, down farther until they nestled between my legs. I was wet for him, soaking – always so ready.
He was my greatest sin.
I doubted that God himself was powerful enough to force the fire of need from my body.
Only Elijah could tamp down the flames.
Only him.
His fingers loosened through my hair, his hand cupping the back of my head as he kissed me while laying me down.
Breaking the kiss, he left me breathless, his face hovering inches above mine. I didn’t mind the loss of his mouth, but when he pulled his hand from between my legs after having set me on fire with his touch, I wanted to scream out my frustration.
Why was he refusing me still?
Didn’t he know that I wou
ld give up my life for him if that’s what he wanted?
“I have a task for you, Eve. A way you can prove to me that nothing will keep you from pleasing me. Follow through with this one act, and I can promise you I’ll never let you go again.”
His palm smoothed over my scalp, ice to soothe the fire, a salve to ease the pain.
I nodded my head, my eyes locked to the glimmer in his. “Anything.”
“There’s my Eve, right there. You were always the purest and most devoted of the good little girls.”
JACOB
Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed – not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence – continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling. Philippians 2:12
I woke the next morning by throwing myself out of bed. At first I thought it was guilt for what I’d done that abruptly pushed me from deep sleep into a seated position, but then a sound outside drew my attention, a light tapping that forced my bleary eyes to the window to peer out into the haze of the first light of morning sun.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I squinted against the darkness still fighting the dawn, but with sleep weary eyes, seeing that clearly in the distance was impossible.
Throwing the blankets off, I pushed my legs over the side of the bed, shuffling just enough to press my bare feet to the cold wood floor. I scrubbed my hands over my face, pulling my palms down for my eyes to catch sight of the crucifix I’d never bothered to pick up from the floor when I’d returned from Eve’s room to go to bed.
A deep breath rushed out of me.
What more did I need as a sign of what I’d done wrong than an inverted cross planted firmly in the ground next to where I’d broken my vow to God?
The tapping sound from outside happened again, a little farther in the distance than it had been before. I wondered it was a bird or some other animal attempting to break into the bark of a tree to get at what little food could be found there.
Standing from the mattress, I padded barefoot across the floor, pulling the threadbare curtain aside to take a look.
I didn’t see an animal, but what I did find was my truck in its usual parking space, the passenger door wide open.
“Crap,” I muttered. I’d neglected to remember to run back outside and shut it after bringing Eve into the rectory. My battery was most likely dead from the interior light staying on all night. Another sign perhaps. One that signified that I was slipping quickly into the past where I was a man wrapped securely in blankets of sin.
I would have left the truck for later and gone back to bed if I hadn’t heard the tapping sound again. Concerned that an animal was rummaging through what little I had in the interior, I didn’t bother grabbing a shirt to cover my bare chest. I didn’t grab shoes or anything else, just walked the short halls to the door and threw it open in nothing but the black pajama pants I’d worn when I finally laid down to sleep.
My throat hurt from screaming at the bastard I left on the side of the road – or was it from praying last night until I’d run out of breath? I ignored the pain to stumble over twigs and rocks in the dirt driveway. Instantly regretting the decision not to grab shoes, I’d almost reached my truck when a particularly sharp rock caught me in the dead center of my foot.
I cursed under my breath and lifted my foot to inspect the damage.
“That looks like it hurt. I thought dad had taught you better than to wander outside without the proper clothes.”
Spinning in place, I almost lost my balance. Jericho leaned back against the trunk of a large tree, his arms crossed at his chest, his body covered in black pants and a black shirt.
“You ever wear anything other than black?” I asked, not sure why that was the first question out of my mouth. Even though I was surprised to find him standing there, I wasn’t shocked. After the events over the past few days it wasn’t hard to figure out that he’d been watching me longer than I’d known he was living close to my town.
“Do you?” he asked, a smirk pulling at his lips.
“I have a reason,” I reminded him.
That smirk broadened into a smile. “As do I, brother. As do I.”
Pausing, he said, “I hear you attempted to return Eve to me last night.”
“Yeah,” I bit out, “And I hear you had your family shoot at her until she had no choice but to run to save her life.”
He shrugged a negligible shoulder. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re never sure about anything.”
He laughed. “When can a man be sure about anything?”
“Why are you here, Jericho?”
Smiling just enough for the expression to be a threat, but not quite enough to reach his eyes, he didn’t move from where he leaned against the tree. The sun still hadn’t climbed over the horizon and he’d intentionally settled himself where he’d be concealed in shadow. Even if someone happened to walk by and look up the drive, it was doubtful they’d see him where he stood.
“I came by to deliver a gift.”
I reached up to run my hand through my hair, the anger and frustration I was feeling making it impossible not to move in some way. “Did you destroy the sanctuary again like some random teenager?”
“Not quite.”
Tired of his games, and tired of the non-answers he always gave, I turned as if I were walking back in the direction of the rectory. “Goodbye, Jericho. Do me a favor and stay the hell off parish property and out of my life.”
He allowed me to walk a few steps before calling out again. “Do you remember Ellen Baker?”
Stopped in my tracks by a name from my past, I didn’t bother turning back to him. “Of course, I remember her.” I’d been thinking about her the night before, but I didn’t tell him that. “Why?”
“I was thinking about her last night. Thinking about what we did to her down in that dusty basement beneath the church while preparing for a charity dinner.”
My curiosity got the better of me. I turned to lock my eyes with his. It was like looking in a mirror. Thirty-six years, eighteen of which were spent apart, and we still looked identical. He even had the same haircut as me.
“Okay. What’s your point?”
He grinned, his eyes darting out into the distance before they were directed back to mine. “Innocence always tastes so sweet, don’t you remember? How many virgins did we have notched on our bedposts by the time you left for college? Seventeen? Or was it eighteen? That number doesn’t even come close to the whores, but none of them really mattered. It was the innocent that we always focused on during the worst of our games.”
“I’m not that man anymore, Jericho. I don’t care what you’ve done with your life. I can’t help the people you’re still preying on. I have my own parish to run. And a woman sleeping inside that is so fucked up she doesn’t know her own name. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Uncrossing his arms, he slipped his hands into his pockets, his face cast down so that he was looking at the ground beneath his feet. Regardless of where he looked, his voice still carried. “Have you enjoyed her yet? I seem to think you have.”
My thoughts rushed back to what I’d done to Eve against my bedroom wall, my guilt sweeping in to drown me for having enjoyed doing it. I didn’t sink so low as to use her to pleasure my own body, but watching the expressions of her face, knowing that the sounds crawling up her throat were because of me, it was a feeling I’d long forgotten in the years I’d been a priest.
Jericho’s gaze lifted to mine. “Have you yet supped on her sweet divinity? I can promise you there’s nothing else like it.”
“No,” I growled, anger a jagged pulse in my veins. “And I have no plans to take part in screwing her up anymore than you’ve already done.”
He tsked, a smile spreading across his face. “I think you’re lying, Jacob. You can tell me that all day long while you attempt to convince yourself, but the truth is obvious behind your eyes.”
I didn’t respond – couldn’t respond due the lump of rage threatening to choke me.
“Tell me, do you look at her and see all the little choir boys you’ve played with in your role as priest?”
My hands curled into fists. “I haven’t touched anybody.”
“Lying is a sin, you know?”
At that point, lying was the least of my sins. I’d convinced myself that touching Eve like I had was for her own good. It was only a means to an end. She needed relief after the night she had, and since I was responsible for the events of that night, I’d gone against my own beliefs to give her what she believed she needed.
After escorting her back to bed, I’d sat with her and run my fingers through her hair until I was sure she slept peacefully. Yes, I’d enjoyed what I’d done to her, and that was my cross to bear. But it wouldn’t happen again. I would make sure of it.
“I haven’t touched her,” I said again, adding strength to my voice now that I was fully awake and the fury I felt toward my brother was spreading its wings inside me and coming back to life. “And I haven’t touched any choir boys.”
He shrugged again before reaching up to scrub his hand over the back of his neck. Tilting his head to the left and right to relieve the muscles of his shoulders, he looked back at me, a smile pulling across his face. “How about your young parishioners? I can think of one that looked awfully happy to see you yesterday. The dear, sweet thing ran up to give you a hug just outside the church doors.”
My breath caught in my lungs to remember exactly who he was talking about.
“What have you done, Jericho?”
Laughing, he stared me directly in the face. “I’ve done nothing. I just thought it was sweet, the deep color of the blush that ran across her cheeks. From where I was standing, I would even venture to guess that the girl was in love. With a priest, no less.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way she feels. She’s an innocent girl. Leave her alone.”
I couldn’t read his expression, but there was something in it I didn’t like. A shadow, or mockery of my calling, I wasn’t sure, but I wanted nothing more than to slap the look from his face.
