A Little Too Far

by Lisa Desrochers

  “And is he?”

  “What?”

  “Celibate?” he asks with a little bit of an edge. “Have you … you know?”

  “God, no!”

  “Chill, Lexie. I’m just trying to get the lay of the land here. Has he made any kind of move?”

  I cringe as I say, “He kissed me.”

  “On the cheek? On the mouth? Where?”

  “On the mouth. French. Twice.”

  I hear him breathe in and out. For a long second, he doesn’t say anything. “You know what you feel, Lexie. I can’t tell you that. You know what you feel, and you know if this guy has what it takes to make you happy. I guess you need to decide if that’s what you want, and if it is, I think you have to tell him before it’s too late. I think you have to go for it. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you really love him, and you don’t at least try, you know?” His voice changes as he says it, the normal vigor vanishing. I can tell he means what he’s saying, but he sounds so … sad.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask after a second.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You just sound … did you and Sam fight or something?”

  I hear him blow out a sigh. “Lexie …”

  I wait, but he doesn’t finish the thought. I wish so badly I was there with Trent. I want to curl into his arms, where everything is always all right. “I miss you so much,” I tell him, and my voice warbles with tears.

  There’s another long pause. “I miss you too.”

  My phone beeps in my ear—another incoming call. I look at the screen and my stomach kicks. I breathe deep and stick the phone back to my ear. “I have to go, Trent. But I’ll call later?”

  “Yeah … okay. Love you,” he says.

  “Love you too,” I say back, then click over to Alessandro, my heart pounding in my throat. “Hi.”

  There’s nothing but silence for a long second, and I’m sure I wasn’t fast enough picking up and he disconnected. But then he says, “I need to pray, Lexie. I need time away from you to pray for direction.”

  The bottom drops out of my stomach, and I feel suddenly hollow. “I … okay … whatever you need.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  My phone beeps as he disconnects.

  So, that’s that.

  IT’S BEEN THREE weeks since Corsica. In those three weeks, I’ve seen Alessandro exactly twice. Two weeks ago, for our school tour, and today, for our school tour—which is our last one. After today, he never has to see me again if he chooses.

  But that’s the problem. He can’t choose. I see him struggling. I can see the pain in his eyes every time he looks at me, and I hate that I’ve done this to him.

  We finish the tour in St. Peter’s, same as usual, and I turn to follow the students out, but he grabs my arm. “Walk with me.” He spins and moves toward the exit, staring straight ahead, and I keep stride.

  He’s back in his white collar, every inch the soon-to-be-priest, but I see him tugging at it as we walk. It’s a beautiful spring day as we step into St. Peter’s Square. He takes a left at the sidewalk and moves briskly up the cobbled road until the crowds start to thin. When we’re about a block from the Vatican, he turns between two buildings down a narrow alleyway that I didn’t even see, then grasps my arms and spins me into an alcove, pressing me against the brick wall.

  The next second, he’s kissing me. His tongue stabs between my lips, taking possession of my mouth. There’s anger and fear and pure need in his kiss, and the roughness of it stirs some animal instinct deep inside me. The length of his firm body pinning me and grinding against mine sends electric currents surging under my skin, and the feel of his erection against my stomach—knowing how much he wants me—makes me want him even more. The muscles in my groin tighten, and a pulsing ache builds in my belly.

  His breathing is ragged and his expression agonized when he pulls away a long minute later. “I don’t know what the Lord is calling me to do. I thought He wanted me in His service, but …” He hangs his head. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve prayed for guidance, and what He keeps showing me is your face.” He tips his face to the sky. “I’ve lost my path.”

  I collect myself and gently push him back, making more space between us. Every fiber in my body protests, but no matter how much I might want him, he still belongs to the Church. “I can’t help you find it, Alessandro. You’re going to have to do that for yourself. What I can tell you is that the Lord sure as hell isn’t showing you me. There is nothing godly about me.”

  His anguished gaze lowers to mine. “I don’t know what to do.”

  I lower my lashes and breathe deep. I won’t be able to say this if I’m looking at his beautiful, tortured face. “When you figure it out, you know where to find me.”

  ABBY AND I wend through the street vendors’ brightly colored wares in Piazza Campo Dè Fiori. I’ve already picked out a pair of earrings for both Katie and Sam, a scarf and a beaded necklace for Julie, a handmade leather wallet for Dad, and a carved wooden guitar pick and few T-shirts for Trent.

  It’s a Wednesday afternoon, which tends to be quieter than the weekends, but it’s spring, so everyone is flocking into the streets again, and tourism is picking back up for the summer. I catch myself smiling when I realize I can pick out the Americans without even hearing them speak. Our sense of style pretty much blows compared to the Italians.

  But we’re only a block and a half from the rectory. This is the first place Alessandro ever brought me shopping. He said it was the best open-air market in the city and the best place to buy produce.

  As we weave our way along the cobbles past the souvenir vendors on the right and the brightly colored and very fragrant floral vendors’ tents on the left, every time someone in black passes by, my eyes catch on them until I’m sure it’s not Alessandro. It’s been two and a half weeks since I left him standing in that alley, and I’ve heard nothing. His ordination is on Sunday. That’s only four days from now. Four days.

  That’s how long I have to say something.

  You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you really love him, and you don’t at least try, you know?

  Trent’s words echo in my head, and my heart squeezes tight. Do I love Alessandro? If I do, can I let him do this without ever telling him?

  “These are brill,” Abby says, pulling my thoughts back to the crowded piazza. She’s running a finger down a row of braided leather bracelets hanging from a cord at a leather vendor’s booth. The vendor, an old gray-haired man with gnarled hands, comes over, and she points to one. He pulls it off the cord and hands it to her. She ties it around my wrist. “Do you love it?”

  The thick braid of the multiple leather lashes is softer than I thought it’d be. Even though it’s in muted tones, it’s somehow still eye-catching. I smile up at her. “I do.”

  She motions for the vendor to pull off another one, then hands it to me, and I tie it on her wrist. She pays the vendor, and we wander toward the next booth. “Have you ever been to England?” she asks, spinning her bracelet and admiring it.

  “No.”

  “You should come for holiday.” She grins. “I could get you into so much trouble there.”

  I grin back. “I have no doubt.” As much as I hate to admit it, I’m really going to miss Abby when I leave. “What’s going to happen with Grant?” I ask. He’s basically moved into her flat this semester, and she seems really happy. But she’s kicked him out every Sunday for our movie marathons.

  “He wants to try to keep it going,” she says. And there’s that smile. Every time she talks about him, it’s like she turns into a whole different person. All her typical lewdness melts away, and she becomes this blushing schoolgirl.

  “And what do you want?”

  Her feet stop, and she looks at me. “I really love the bloke, you know? The thought of going home is bad enough, but without him …” Her eyes gleam as her face pinches against tears.

  We’ve talked some durin
g our movie marathons, and I get that home isn’t a really happy place for her. I guess there’s stuff with her mother and a chain of questionable boyfriends (on both their parts). Even though I have my own issues with going home, it’s not because no one loves me. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to go home from this, where she seems truly happy and has finally found love, to something like that.

  I loop my arm around her shoulders and tug her off toward the café on the corner. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  I let Abby have a few more beers than I probably should have, and she was pretty drunk when I left her in Grant’s arms at her apartment. He was so gentle with her as he took her from me and guided her inside. He swept her hair back and kissed her cheek, then promised me he’d take care of her.

  I believe he will.

  It’s after dark when I leave there and, just my luck, it starts to rain in the three blocks between Abby’s apartment and mine. I duck my head and run, and plow right into an amorous couple from the bar next door who are going at it in the alcove of my doorway. I shoo them away and head inside. When I get upstairs, I pull my hair out of the clip that was holding it off my face and towel dry it, then change out of my wet clothes into my comfy hoodie and jeans to study. I settle into my love seat with a cup of tea and my laptop and start pecking out an outline for my final paper in my Ancient Rome and Its Monuments class, which is probably my least favorite of everything I took here this year.

  My door buzzer shakes me from my concentration and I shove my laptop off and stand, irritated. If that couple doesn’t find another spot, I’m going to strangle them.

  The buzzer sounds again, long and loud, before I’m even to my door. I rip it open and lope down the stairs, and when I yank open the door to the street, Alessandro is standing in the rain in his clerical shirt and slacks, his white collar slightly askew.

  “I am a sinner and I am weak,” he says. Before I can say a word, he scoops me into his arms and buries his face in the crown of my hair. “Why can’t I stop wanting you?”

  I freeze at Trent’s words coming out of Alessandro’s mouth, and my heart skips up into my throat. After a long minute, when I can finally move, I pull him through the door and up the stairs into my apartment. I lead him around the corner to my love seat, where I move my laptop to the floor so we can sit.

  He leans his elbows on his knees and rests his forehead in one hand as if it hurts. His other hand fists hard into the fabric of his clerical slacks. “You walked into my life, and from the first moment I laid eyes on you, you made me feel things I’d thought I’d suppressed—primal urges that needed to be satisfied. At first, I thought you were sent by the Lord to test my devotion.” His tormented gaze lifts to mine. “I thought you were my final temptation, and that, if I was strong enough to resist you, I was worthy of serving the Lord.” He breathes deep and stands, pacing to the window and looking out at the drizzle falling on my patio. “I have prayed every day for direction, and every day, He brings me closer to you. What He’s shown me is that my devotion to Him is not stronger than your hold on me. I’m not strong enough to serve Him faithfully. I think about you and I dream about you and …” He lays a palm on the window and leans his forehead into his hand. “I want you every waking minute.”

  My stomach pulls into a hard knot, and my lungs have turned into bricks. I can’t breathe. “You are strong, Alessandro. After everything you’ve been through, I know you are,” I finally manage.

  He lifts his head and looks at me with tortured eyes. “Do you feel anything for me?”

  Now, my knotted insides tingle. I definitely have feelings for him. I can feel them right now: a tightening in my groin at the thought of where this might be headed. If I’m honest, I’ve wanted him since I met him. Do I tell him the truth and be responsible for possibly ruining his life? Or do I lie? I stand, and my fingers fiddle mindlessly with the zipper of my hoodie. “You are extremely attractive. You must already know that.”

  He breathes deep and winces as his eyes close. “But beyond the lust? Is there anything deeper?”

  I can’t speak. Everything in me is totally at odds. He’s such a beautiful man. From the very beginning, he’s made me a little weak in the knees. But he is four days away from becoming a priest. He’s taken a vow of celibacy and pledged himself to the Church.

  As if he read my mind, he untucks his white collar, ripping it off and throwing it to the floor. He takes me into his arms again, more possessively this time. “I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you, Lexie. I finally realize I desperately want this,” he says, his hand gliding down my arm. “I want a wife … a family. I know you’re in love with your stepbrother, and I’m aware I am not him, but … could you be happy with someone like me?”

  “I …” How do I answer that? Do I love him? My heart aches, but is it aching for him? What I feel for him is intense attraction. He’s kind and sophisticated and charming, with a quiet confidence that makes him so goddamn sexy. There’s no doubt I want him … badly … but do I love him? “You are a remarkable man, Alessandro. How am I supposed to resist you when you say things like this to me?”

  He presses a kiss to my lips. At first, his kiss is slow and gentle, but as our bodies press harder together, and the friction builds, it becomes deeper and more insistent. Our tongues swirl together in an attempt to somehow blend into one. My pulse pounds through my body so hard that I vibrate with it. After long enough that my lips are swollen, he nips at my lower lip and looks at me with feral eyes, like a starving animal. “If you’ll have me, I want nothing more than to be your lover.”

  This time it’s me who initiates the kiss, because I pretty much want to climb right into him. I press up on my tiptoes and pull him down to me. His fingers twist into my hair as the other hand glides down my back and pulls me into the curve of his body.

  And, God, this feels good.

  I feel like I’ve slipped into one of my dreams. It’s a surreal feeling, because I know this is something that could never be happening in real life.

  But it is.

  And in case there was any lingering question this is real, it’s answered definitively when I feel his erection against my stomach through his black cleric’s slacks.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  FEELING HIS AROUSAL—knowing how much he wants me—starts a slow burn under my skin. As we kiss, I shuffle us past the front door toward my bedroom, and as we inch across the floor, I start on the buttons of his black shirt. I go slowly at first, but before I’m done, I’m tearing at them in frustration. Finally, I give up on the last few and yank his shirt over his head. He grasps the zipper of my hoodie and pulls it down, then slips it off my shoulders. We’ve only made it as far as the dining-room table when I realize we’ve stopped moving, too wrapped up in what’s happening between us to care where we are.

  “You’re sure this is what you want?” I ask, and I hear the shake in my voice.

  “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you,” he replies breathily, his fingertips brushing over my nipple through my bra.

  I want this too, don’t I? I need to get past Trent. He’s moved on with Sam. I know I need to do the same.

  As Alessandro leans in to kiss me, and his hand slips behind me and unclasps my bra, I know he’s the one person who might be able to help me forget. My bra slides down my arms, and his hands cup the fullness of my breasts, one in each palm. He kisses me harder as his thumbs rub circles over my nipples, and they tighten to rock-hard nubs.

  I tip my head back to catch my breath, and his lips glide past the sensitive spot behind my ear, to the hollow of my throat, and down my collarbone. I lean back onto the dining-room table, the closest support I can find, when he takes my right breast into his mouth and sucks.

  His teeth and tongue tease my nipple as his hand glides down my ribs and over my hip to the button of my jeans. He pops it open and slides them down. I kick them off, and his fingers trace circles on the sensitive skin at waistband of my thong. I lift one leg
and wrap it around him, making room for his hand to slip between my legs. He takes the cue. His long fingers stroke over my thong and he moans into my breast when he feels how wet I am.

  His moan shakes me from my lust-induced daze, and I lift his face with a hand. “We can’t, Alessandro,” I breathe. “You can’t.”

  He stares into my eyes and doesn’t even hesitate. “I’ve made my decision.”

  His mouth finds mine, and he crushes me in a kiss. My skin burns as his fingertip traces the edge of my thong. “It’s been a while since I …” He closes his eyes and breathes deep as his hand glides under the elastic onto my tender bare skin.

  I can’t reconcile the electric excitement dancing through my belly with the heavy dread in my chest. The thought of making love with Alessandro ignites fireworks under my skin and sends lava pumping through my veins with every beat of my racing heart.

  But if we do this, it will change everything.

  He’s giving up everything he’s worked for—everything he believes in. And he’s doing it for me. Am I ready for that responsibility? Do I want that kind of sacrifice on my conscience?

  And Trent.

  God, Trent.

  I haven’t even sorted out what I feel for him. Is it fair that Alessandro should give everything up for this if I can’t commit to him? He said he loved me, but do I love him?

  He inches my thong over my hips, and it drops to the floor with my jeans as he lifts me onto the edge of the table. I’m naked, on total display for him. He just stares for a long minute. “Lexie,” he finally says. “You are one of God’s truly spectacular creations.”

  He lays me back on the table, and his fingertips trail over my breasts, setting my skin on fire. I watch his face as his hands move over me, exploring and setting every nerve ending pulsating with want. They glide over my stomach to my hips and loop under my knees. He lifts them and spreads my legs, then watches his finger trail over the tuft of hair and brush my clit. He’s rewarded with a tightening of all the muscles below my waist and my low moan. I wrap my legs around his cut torso and pull him against me. His eyes close for the briefest of seconds, then he opens them and watches his fingers slide inside me. I squirm on the table with his touch, and I can’t help rocking my hips with the motion of his hand as his fingers glide in and out.