Sin With Me (With Me Series Book 2)

by Lacey Silks

  Kate kept her gaze on the hole in the floor and the set of wooden stairs that led downstairs.

  “Does that mean you don’t want to know what’s hidden underneath?” I finally asked, and watched as she bit her lip.

  After a quick moment, she pointed her finger to the next board, saying, “Get another one off so we can both fit in. If it’s my grandparents’ resting place, then I should see where they’re buried. But why is the staircase sealed off?”

  “Maybe someone was trying to hide a secret?”

  “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s underneath.”

  I lifted the next three boards and removed the flashlight I had in my back pocket. Before I had a chance to stack all the boards against the wall, Kate was already on the third step, making her way down. I cleared my throat. She stopped, turned around, and I passed her the flashlight.

  “Is there something wrong with me that I don’t think this is creepy?”

  “If there’s something wrong with you, then there’s something wrong with me as well.”

  I don’t know why, but I found her lack of fear sexy. Sometimes she looked more afraid than she really was, like when she had watched me climb the spruce at the retreat; and then other times, like now, Kate managed to cross a new line of fear I would never have expected her to. It was like she was someone else.

  “It’s cool down here,” she whispered.

  “You don’t have to whisper, Kate. I don’t think anyone’s here.”

  “Don’t be rude to those departed,” she said in a warning tone.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Was I really apologizing to her now, in a crypt underneath a chapel? I shook my head and searched the floor where I could barely see my feet. The little light creeping in between the loose boards above us was barely enough.

  “If this is a crypt, then where are the bodies?” she asked.

  “Try further down, against the back wall.” I pointed, though I wasn’t sure if she could even see my hand.

  I heard her gasp. I hadn’t realized that she’d also stopped, and so I’d walked right into her, pushing her forward. I heard a thud and she yelped out in pain.

  “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, just my shin. I walked into something.”

  So did I. I walked into her, and having her standing so close to me now with her ass right in front of me, an ass I just bumped into, was almost painful. At least my body’s reaction to this woman was now hidden by the darkness.

  I followed the guidance of her flashlight as she lowered it to the ground. A granite tombstone, not larger than four feet, rested on the ground. She shone the light down, then to the side at two larger tombstones.

  “Mikey Hernandez,” she read out loud. “Wait a minute. What is this? Hernandez?” she asked, then shone her light back to the two larger resting places, then back down to the small one.

  “Father John and your mother had a son,” I explained.

  “You knew about this?” She turned around.

  “He told me at the retreat. I wasn’t sure how to tell you that you didn’t have a brother, but a half-brother. I wanted to see his grave first, though, to confirm.”

  “Wait – Father John could have been my step-father?”

  If she wasn’t seeing where I was going with this, then I’d have to spell it out for her.

  “I don’t think that’s how it works, Kate. Father John didn’t know about you. This happened the year before you were born.”

  “Which means that I was conceived that same year he died.”

  “That’s what it looks like.” I grinned. Would she get it? Would she realize there was a possibility of Father John being her actual father, and neither of them knew?

  She shook her head. “How did I not know anything about this? Why wouldn’t my mother tell me?”

  Come on, Kate.

  “I think she was trying to protect you from Cortez. I think that’s why she ran away from Pace and John. She lost a son, and she blamed Mikey’s death on Benjamin Cortez.”

  “Oh, my God.” She gently touched my hand. “Father John could be… their son died, and she left the year before I was born.”

  “Did your father ever tell you a story about how they met?”

  “No, never. But she said she’d felt a connection from the moment they saw each other.” I felt her hot breath at the side of my arm. It carried anxiety and fear of the unknown.

  “It’s true, then. Father John and my mother had a son.”

  I didn’t count the minutes that we stood in silence as it was a much-needed silence. There was no longer a need to bring up the fact that Father John could be her father. I couldn’t even imagine how lost Kate must have been feeling at the moment. She came to her mother’s hometown which she didn’t know had her family roots, and then found out that her mother had been involved with a priest, and had to run away from a cartel. The irony was definitely not lost on me; if history did in fact repeat itself, then it had a strange sense of humor.

  And if history took it too far, I was afraid that Kate could end up on the run from Mateo Cortez or his son, just the way her mother had.

  “Kate? Are you all right?”

  “For the first time in my life, I don’t think I am.”

  She turned around and rammed into me with full force, throwing her arms around me. I held her against me, smoothing my hand up and down her back.

  “Shh, it’s okay. You’re still the same wonderful Kate that I know.”

  But she shook her head and pulled her nose upward over my shirt. I knew I was looking down at her, right into her eyes, but I could barely see her; yet there she was, even in the darkness, still the most beautiful creature I’d ever met.

  “I just feel like my entire life has been a lie, you know. Everything I’ve been told is one big lie.”

  “Not everything,” I lied. The only true fact was that I was a good liar.

  Something crashed above us. Kate grabbed me around my waist and dug her fingers into my ribs. My arms instinctively flew around her, shielding her. Dust fell through the wooden boards, disturbing the streams of faint light squeezing between the slits.

  One of the boards leaning against the wall must have fallen over. Its crash echoed through the chapel, ringing in my ears until there was nothing but silence.

  Silence and us.

  And for the first time in a long time I felt like a man again. I felt like it was my duty to protect her. There was a need inside of me to make sure that nothing ever happened to this woman. And then there was another need — a more physical one. I could feel her breasts rising and falling as she clung to my body. The heat of her skin, the smell of her breath, the vibration of her nerves camouflaged as small trembles in her thighs — they all aroused me. Everything about her aroused me.

  “Kate, you should stay away from me.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  Her voice, full of desire and need, was singing the exact song my dick wanted to hear.

  “Kate, I’m warning you.”

  “Why?”

  She tightened her grip around me, her curves molding against my chest, her hips pushing forward until I could feel my rock-solid dick press into her soft triangle. It was painful and beautiful at the same time.

  “That’s why.”

  I seized her mouth with mine and finally discovered what she tasted like.

  Chapter 16

  Kate

  Something about the smell of apple crumble and fresh sunflower honey in the last weeks of summer made the time feel more special. That and the constant reminder of Father Cameron’s lips on mine. It had been a week since we’d kissed in my family’s crypt, and I could still feel his need on my lips. He’d kissed me like a man desperate to keep an ounce of his masculinity, and I let him. That night, I would have let him do anything to me, and I was grateful that the sudden howl in the chapel above us had finally pulled us apart.

  Avoiding the subject of our affection for each oth
er, during the past week I’d hidden away in the attic, searching for Jack or anything that would bring me closer to finding out whether Aaron Cortez had plans to return to Pace. If he did, I was as good as dead.

  Tonight, however, for the first time since that wonderfully torturous kiss, I’d need to face Father Cameron at the summer potluck. Our relationship had not only become too complicated but also confusing. I trusted him like no other man. When I thought about a future, it was he who I saw standing beside me, no one else. But that small fact that he was a priest kept coming up, and I didn’t how to avoid it. I couldn’t. There was no way.

  Three days ago, I escaped the world into my kitchen and began preparing dishes my mother used to make. Now I was staring at a table filled with wild turkey, baked stuffing, meatloaf, grilled mushrooms wrapped in bacon, yams, an apple crumble, and two strawberry rhubarb pies. I rested my hands on my hips and admired the creations once more.

  “You know, they call it a potluck for a reason.” Father Cameron’s breath flowed onto the back of my neck, and I felt all the hairs there stand up. Lola had pinned it all into a gorgeous up do this afternoon. That breath had nearly the same effect on me as his kiss — a combination of staggering nerves, quickly beating heart, and wet panties.

  I turned around to face him and almost gasped. Wearing a black shirt, he looked like a delicious meal that belonged on the menu as well. Except I’d have a difficult time sharing.

  “I guess I got a little carried away,” I said.

  He angled his head inquisitively, looking me over as if I were the main dish being served tonight. My body heated with lust. He should have been forbidden to look at me that way. It made me think of him differently. It made me look at him differently as well, and that was dangerous.

  “You look… stunning,” he said.

  The room temperature automatically rose, along with my heart rate. I brushed my hands over the most festive dress I could find, with a long column of buttons all the way down to the hem, and then took my time admiring him: his freshly shaven face, combed through hair that still appeared a little disheveled, and those crystal eyes that stood out against his darker complexion.

  “Thank you. You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

  “I’m wearing the same thing I do every day, Kate.”

  Black. My favorite color, though scientifically, black was not even a color. It was composed of all colors, just like Father Cameron was… everything.

  To add to his mystery behind this black outfit, Father Cameron wasn’t wearing his clerical collar. The top button of his shirt was undone, and he could have easily passed for a common man. Scratch that. Common wasn’t anywhere near the description I should have used for someone so… captivating. He looked even better than the evening we met at the Bistro.

  “Well, the color suits you.”

  “They say black is not a color.”

  I chuckled.

  “Besides, I don’t always wear black. Sometimes I wear nothing.”

  “But you just said—” I caught on to his words a moment too late and felt my lips part. Why would he say that to me?

  Feeling unwavering arousal return to my body, I cleared my throat. “What happened to the collar?”

  “Today’s my day off.”

  Oh!

  “Thank you for decorating the hall,” I said, and looked up to the ceiling where a few cardboard summer decorations along with some birds sitting mid-air were hanging. “Does that look weird?”

  “The birds?” he asked.

  “Yes – like they were hung.”

  “Because they were.”

  I chuckled again. Father Cameron let out a snicker as well. My nerves were beginning to get the best of me.

  “They were supposed to look like they were flying, not dead.” Desperate to hide my apprehension, I laughed even harder. “The flowers look beautiful,” I said, as a compliment to the gorgeous bouquets on each table.”

  “Thanks. The Crew did most of the work.”

  Which I knew was a soft lie, or maybe a stretch of the truth, because the kids told me how much Father Cameron had been hands-on this week, preparing everything for the occasion.

  “Where did you learn how to cook so well?” he asked.

  “My mother.”

  “This is amazing, Kate. The kids will love it.”

  “Thank you. I wish my mother were here. I wish I didn’t have to…”

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I cannot even begin to imagine what you’re feeling.”

  “She could have told me about Pace. She could have mentioned it, at least; but she didn’t.”

  “Which means she had a reason to do so.”

  “I know, I know. And I wish I could ask her.”

  “Did you talk to Father John?”

  I reached for a crooked fork and aligned it with the plate before looking back up. “Not yet. Soon.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “Look, can we not talk about my mother or all the other stuff anymore? All I want tonight is to… breathe. I just want one night when I can pretend that my problems don’t exist.”

  He leaned in closer and I saw that spark of something naughty in his eyes. “All right. Would you rather we revisit the topic of you kissing me?”

  Yeah, that definitely worked. “Look, I know I kissed you back, but… but you started it.”

  He chuckled. “Is it working Kate? Does thinking about kissing me take your mind off real life?”

  “Shh, Cam… I mean, Father Cameron, what are you doing?”

  And to answer his question, which I wouldn’t – of course it did. All I could picture in my mind right now was the heat of his lips on mine, spreading through my body like a flash of lightning on a bright day.

  “I’m curious – what did you think?” he asked.

  The way his question rolled off his tongue made me want to head for the Vatican so that I could appeal this rule of celibacy for priests. I shook the lust off, my shoulders physically moving back and forth, but it didn’t help. Nothing had helped lately, and he was doing a great job at ensuring that nothing would.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked in a whisper.

  “Doing what, Kate?”

  “Provoking me. You make me think things and feel things I shouldn’t be thinking.”

  “Like what?”

  “I… what are you holding behind your back?” I stepped up on my toes as if that would give me the extra height to see behind him. It didn’t.

  He brought his hand forward, holding a cookie. “It’s Mrs. Duarte’s secret recipe. I snagged the last one from the kitchen.”

  “They’re gone already?”

  “It’s a secret recipe,” he echoed. “Would you like to share it, Kate?”

  Share it?

  His suggestion should have sounded as a kind offer, but all I could think of was sharing more things with him. Like a bed.

  We broke the cookie in half just as Father John came to sit at our table. I stopped the moan of satisfaction that was about to come out of mouth at the chocolaty-sweet flavors melting on my tongue. Father Cameron’s stare bore through me. I could feel its burn on my face, then my chest, and back at my face again. I knew what he was thinking, and I knew that he’d be analyzing that kiss until I bluntly admitted how much it affected me. He leaned into me, his hot breath teasing my cleavage, and whispered, “Come on Kate, let’s enjoy this feast you made.”

  “I didn’t make it.”

  “You made most of it, and don’t argue because you know it’s true.”

  His manly yet complimentary tone revived that confusing feeling in my chest. Everything was so confusing. I was not only falling apart physically and emotionally, but I was also failing miserably in my detective work. I still had not found Jack.

  As much as I wished I could have brought my mother back to her hometown for today’s Assumption Fiesta celebration, I had no more answers for her than when I first came to Pace. She remained in her catatonic state, repeating the sa
me two words each time I called her: “Jack Pace” – even after I’d asked her whether she meant John. I hadn’t had a chance to speak with Father John about her on my own, either. I mean, what was I supposed to say? Hello, Father. I’m your lover’s daughter. Sorry she left you for my dad! Oh, by the way, I could be your daughter too.

  I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I had looked for mannerisms and similarities between us, but even if it were true, even if Father John was my biological father, it wasn’t my place to tell him. It was my mother’s. And why hadn’t she told me?

  At least I found out why she’d given me Kate as a second name. It was after my deceased grandmother, Katherine. I saw her and grandfather’s tombs side by side near the back wall of the crypt.

  “Let’s begin with a prayer, everyone,” Father John announced. The hum of voices across the hall faded as the kids all gathered around their tables, folded their hands, and bowed their heads.

  I watched Father Cameron close his eyes. He appeared to be lost deep in his prayer, deep enough that you felt a special presence in the room.

  “Amen,” everyone responded.

  The candles were lit, soft music played, and the plates were beginning to fill. I was sitting at the table with Father Cameron, Lola, and Father John. Father Cameron sat opposite me and as I ate, I couldn’t help but feel his continuous stare.

  Lay off, already! I said in my mind, but that only reminded me of a joke Lola once told me about getting laid.

  I snickered, and my eyes automatically darted up, meeting his halfway. I would never have thought that a man, especially a priest, could manage to turn my body into mush with one look, one word, and one gesture, but he did. Every. Single. Time.

  “So, is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?” Lola asked, when both priests left for the buffet to get seconds.

  “It feels fine to me.”

  “Really? Because you look like you’re about to burst into flames, the way you’re looking at Father Cameron.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do too. And he’s looking at you like you’re the only one in this world. Pretty powerful.”