“No. I don’t.”
“That seems strange,” she murmurs, her breath catching as my finger goes slightly lower than her collar and starts toying with the chain of her necklace.
I shrug. “It’s how I’ve always done things. And…”
“And?”
I roll the cross pendant between my fingertips, keeping my eyes on hers. “And there’s this.”
“Is it a problem because you respect my choices and my beliefs? Or because you don’t respect the Church?”
I use the cross to tug myself just that much closer to her. “Both,” I tell her.
“So there’s more than one problem,” she says, her voice a bit breathless. “You care about me and my brother. And you don’t care about God.”
“Mmm,” I agree. I’m watching her mouth now, the way her lips crease ever so slightly as she talks, the flick of her tongue as she shapes her words. My cock is painfully aware of how close it is to her; just a few inches more and I could press right into her belly, grind away the ache she gave me.
No. Bad.
Elijah.
Nun thing.
“I never got my kiss,” she whispers. “And I’d already planned on committing that sin. What if you kissed me now and we pretended it was still last night? That you didn’t know it was me?”
Fuck.
My body responds before my mind, my heart hammering quick and my memories whirring like a merry-go-round, bringing up half-forgotten feelings. Feelings of magic and mystery and more-ness, as if this girl holds inside her a larger universe than the one I live in, as if she speaks a language I only hear in dreams I pretend I don’t dream.
She reminds me of the way I used to be. Before. Before Lizzy died. Before I rejected all the stupid and naïve things that had kept our family blind to the truth and her pain. Before I made my own idol of money and ambition and $1500 neckties.
Fuck. Fuck.
I jerk back as I realize what I’m doing, how close I am to her mouth, how close I am to grabbing my own cock just to rub at the need throbbing there.
How the hell could temptation incarnate be a fucking nun? How fair is that?
“No fucking way,” I say raggedly. “Elijah will kill me. You’ll kill me once you realize what a bad man I am and what you let me do.”
“What do you mean?” She comes off the wall, taking a step forward, her head tilted.
“I mean it would not be a good thing for me to kiss you.”
“Because of my brother?”
“Yes.”
“And my vocation?”
“Yes.”
She takes another step forward and now I’m the one forced to take a step back.
“We’re going to pretend you don’t know those things yet, remember?”
“And,” I say, stepping back far enough that my heel hits the stove behind me and I’m trapped, “let’s not forget that I’m selfish and dangerous and far older than you. I like sin. I like corruption. You don’t want someone like me to touch you.”
“But I do want you to touch me,” Zenny says, crowding me against the stove. “I know you’re selfish and sinful, and that’s why you’re the perfect person to give me this. You’ll give it to me and then leave, and you won’t be offended that I’ll never ask you for another kiss again. In fact, if anyone should understand wanting to do something for the simple, momentary pleasure of it, I’d think it would be you.”
“But—”
“Just once,” she coaxes, her eyes so big and pleading. “I promised myself I’d get this one last thing before I was invested as a novice. One last kiss.”
“But—”
“And who better than you, my brother’s best friend? I know you’ll keep me safe.” Her eyelashes flutter and she puts her hand flat on the middle of my chest.
And then slides it down my stomach.
“Zenny,” I grunt. “Shit.”
My dick is practically drilling a hole through my pants, and it’s like I can feel every single whorl of her fingertips through all the layers of my clothes as her hand moves down, down, down—
“Please,” she murmurs prettily, and how did she suddenly get all the power here? How did she end up taking control and how did I end up trapped and feebly protesting?
And then she says, “Sean,” in this way like she’s said it to herself before. Like she’s murmured it into her pillow, like she’s doodled it in notebooks, like she’s imagined what it would be like to breathe my own name back into my lips.
“Sean,” she says again and the heel of her palm hits my belt and it’s over, it’s done, my control is snapped like a cord.
I groan.
And yank her into a searing, burning kiss.
Chapter 6
The moment her lips touch mine, I’m lost. To myself, to her, to any memory of what is right or true or necessary.
Ecstasy. That’s what it’s called when saints experience spiritual euphoria, and I’m no saint, that’s for fucking sure, but this…this is ecstasy. The small whimper she makes when I slide my hand to the small of her back and jerk our bodies close together. The hesitant flicker of her tongue against my lips. The clean, sweet taste of her, the rose smell of her skin, the satin submission of her soft mouth under mine.
The trusting way her hands lace and hang around my neck.
And the tiny noise she lets out as I make her mouth fully mine—her tongue, her teeth, her lips—I hold nothing back. I turn so she’s the one backed against the stove, and I cage her in everywhere—my arms, my feet on either side of her feet—and I give in to every dirty urge pounding through me. I press my cock against her, my hands find her ass under the cheap fabric of her jumper, and I bite her lower lip until she moans. I keep it trapped between my teeth as I pick her up and deposit her on the counter next to the stove, and she parts her legs for me to step between as if we’ve done this a thousand times before.
The moment our bodies touch again, the moment the wide ridge of my erection brushes against the place between her legs, she lets out a gasp so sweetly surprised, so endearingly amazed, that I have to fist my hands in the skirt of her jumper to avoid doing something truly filthy, like playing with the edge of her panties. Like sliding my fingers under the elastic and finding out for myself if she’s shaved smooth or fuzzed with hair, if she’s wet and slick, if her clit is big and needy for rubs and kisses.
And then she grabs the lapels of my suit jacket and rocks her hips against me, seeking out the pleasurable friction again. And again. And again.
“Zenny,” I mumble against her lips, some valiant part of me recognizing that this is far, far beyond the kiss she asked for, and also recognizing that I’m going to come all over the inside of my Hugo Boss suit pants if she keeps it up. Even through the clothes, I can feel her heat, her shameless rolls hinting at where she goes soft and wet between her legs.
Fuck, I want to see it. I want to see her pussy. It’s suddenly all I can think about, all I can want or crave, just one glimpse, just a peek.
“I want to see your cunt,” I say hoarsely, lifting my head.
“My…cunt?” She says the word like she’s never said it out loud before.
“Yeah.” My voice is so ragged right now, so desperate, and fuck, I’ve never felt this frantic before. Like I’ll actually combust if I don’t get this one thing, this one small sight of her secret place.
She lets out a shaky breath, her hand dropping from my lapel to her skirt, which she slowly rucks up to her waist as I devour her lips once more, as I bury my face in her neck and kiss every sliver of skin exposed above her collar. I bite at her ear, at her jaw, my hand finding hers as it pulls her skirt up, so that I’m helping her do it, that we’re doing it together, this forbidden act, this forbidden revelation.
Her forbidden body.
That word, forbidden, spikes through my mind, bringing with it equal spikes of lust and fear. Because yes, it’s fucking hot that I shouldn’t be kissing her, I shouldn’t be begging to see her most secret pl
ace, my hand shouldn’t be covering hers as it slides up her thigh—but it’s also bad. Bad even for Sean Bell.
Bad, bad, bad.
Elijah’s disappointed face flashes through my thoughts, and I break our embrace, stumbling back a step. Zenny freezes, her mouth still wet and open from our kiss and her hand full of skirt fabric, hovering at the middle of her thigh. The long expanse of silky, dark leg gleams in the sunlight, and before she drops her skirt, I see a flash of snow-white cotton between her legs.
I swallow down a noise. I routinely fuck women who wear La Perla or Agent Provocateur, but somehow the sight of those simple cotton panties have my cock flaring and leaking all over the inside of my pants. I have to turn away from her to get a fucking grip on myself.
“Sean…?” she asks hesitantly, and when I turn back to her, there’s real worry on her face, worry that’s quickly turning into embarrassment.
What the fuck have I done?
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m so fucking sorry. I got—I have to go.”
And I leave as quickly as I can, forcing myself not to look back at the thoroughly kissed nun still perched on the counter.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I kissed Elijah’s baby sister. The one who’s a nun—sorry, postulant—the one with the parents that my parents still refuse to speak with. The one who is currently causing my firm a giant PR headache, and to cap it off, I didn’t even manage to talk to her about the deal at all.
Not even once.
Valdman’s going to be pissed.
And Elijah’s going to be pissed.
And now probably Zenny is going to be pissed too, and with good fucking reason.
What is wrong with me? Sean Bell doesn’t do shit like this! He gets what he wants, he fucks whom he wants, and then he lives like he wants—no guilt, no ties, all the success in the world.
I run an agitated hand through my hair as I throw open the door to the Audi and get inside. I’ve barely even got the car started before my phone lights up.
Elijah.
Fuck. Okay. You know what? This is good, actually. This is fine. There’s no need to be scared; Sean Bell doesn’t get scared.
“Hey, man,” I say as I answer the phone. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with you?” Elijah asks dryly. “You’re the one who called.”
“Right,” I say.
Right.
“So, um…” I pull the car off the curb and into the street, trying to order my thoughts and trying to ignore the way my still-straining cock chafes against my zipper. “Your sister. Zenobia.”
“Did you see her last night? I brought her with me to the thing—I meant to have you come over and say hi to her. I don’t think you’ve seen each other in a while.”
I resist the urge to bash my head against the steering wheel. “Yep. It’s been a while. And I saw her.”
And nearly kissed her. And then I did kiss her today and almost made her flash her pussy to me while another nun was down the hall.
“Good, I’m glad you got to see her.” Elijah does sound genuinely happy, and an unfamiliar feeling of guilt crawls through me.
“Yeah, so…she’s a nun now?”
“She’s wanted to be a nun since she was a teenager. I never talked to you about this?”
“Sure didn’t,” I reply, navigating the car back to the firm. “Has it been hard with…you know? Your parents? And them wanting grandchildren and stuff?”
“Jumping right past the small talk today, I see,” Elijah says, amused. “Yes, it’s been hard, but it’s fine now. At some point they have to understand Zenny and me are allowed our own lives. We probably should have made it easier on them by rebelling in high school instead of waiting until after we graduated, but there you are. Why are we talking about this again?”
“Uh. Well. Zenny and I are sort of working together now. Or against each other, depending on how you look at it.”
Elijah is immediately wary. “What do you mean?”
I explain to him about the building deal and the Good Shepherd sisters going to the press about their upcoming eviction. And I’m about to tell him about the kiss, I really am, when he cuts in.
“Look, you know I don’t see anything wrong with what you do or how you make your money, but if you do anything to hurt Zenny or her sisters, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“Whoa, man, I’m not planning on hurting anyone—”
“I mean it,” Elijah warns. “Zenny has wanted this for almost ten years, she’s had to put up with our parents and her friends all giving her a rough time about it, she’s worked her ass off to meet her obligations as a postulant while she’s getting her nursing degree. Do not ruin this for her.”
“I’m not going to!”
“Sean.”
“Elijah.”
“I know you, and I know what you do to people who get in your way, but I’m asking you for the sake of our friendship to keep her safe. Do not crush her to make more money, and do not fuck this up for her.”
The guilt has teeth now, chewing industriously at something inside of my chest. “I’ll keep her safe,” I promise, and I say it to atone for the ways in which I already haven’t kept her safe.
“Good. Because I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
I sigh. This is bad.
“And you are fine with her becoming a nun?” I ask. “Giving up a normal life?”
“Who gets to say what a normal life is?” Elijah asks. “The important thing is having a life with meaning. She seems to find that with the Catholic Church.”
“But the Catholic Church is terrible,” I counter, pulling into the Valdman and Associates parking garage. “Their meanings are all about homophobia and protecting predators and treating women like second-class citizens. How can you be okay with that? How can she be okay with that?”
Elijah’s voice is dry again. “Because I’m gay, you mean?”
“Well. Yes.”
“I get where you’re coming from, and trust me, I have an entire dossier of complicated thoughts and opinions on the Catholic Church after my childhood, but watching Zenny go through this journey has reminded me that there’s a lot of good people in the Church. People who believe in equal rights. People who are dedicated to helping the poor. Gay people and feminists and activists working for racial and economic and judicial justice. So maybe the Church isn’t perfect, but the answer isn’t shitting on it. And for Zenny, the answer is supporting what’s good about it and working to change the rest.”
I think about this for a moment. “Does this mean you’ll be heading back to Mass?”
“Fuck no. But it’s why I’m okay with my little sister becoming a nun. Nuns can do great things and Zenny is going to do great things, and I have no doubt in my mind that she is going to help a lot of people this way. Besides, it’s what she wants. That’s the most important thing.”
“Okay, okay.” I park my car and get out. “I hear what you’re saying. I still think the Church is bullshit though.”
“I know you do,” Elijah says. And then, his voice getting kinder, “No one’s forgotten about Lizzy, Sean. No one’s forgotten what you’ve gone through.”
“She wanted to be a nun too, you know.” There’s a stupid ball in my throat as I say the words out loud. “It’s all she talked about.”
“I know. I like to think that she and Zenny would have been really good friends.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“I meant what I said though. Keep her safe or I’ll kill you.”
“Elijah.”
“Seriously. I know you’ve got a job to do, but do it without fucking her over.”
“Elijah. I already promised.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t trust you.” And then he hangs up.
Sigh.
I drop my phone into my pocket and rub at my face with both hands while I wait for the elevator. Okay, so things are not ideal right now—I’ve lied to Elijah (by omission though, that’s not s
o bad, right?) and promised to take care of Zenny, and now I have to go upstairs and explain to my boss why there’s not a plan in place to fix all this yet.
Sorry, Mr. Valdman, sir, it’s just that she has a really pretty mouth and a way of asking for things like kisses that I can’t resist.
Yeah, no. That’s not going to work.
The elevator doors ding open and I go inside, thinking. Clearly, I can’t trust myself around Zenny, that much is clear. And I just promised Elijah that I’d keep her safe, which almost certainly means not kissing her again.
Not begging to see her pussy like a thirsty man just craving the sight of water.
I’m a responsible human, and while I recognize that I’m what some people might call sinful and others might call an asshole, I would never force myself on a woman. I am more than capable of keeping my hands and eyes and words to myself; I’m more than capable of being around someone I desire and still acting ethically and professionally. But that’s not the problem—the problem is that Zenny asks for things and once she asks, I can’t trust myself to say no.
Because if she asks for another kiss, there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to stop myself. Definitely not now, not after I’ve felt how soft and eager her mouth is, not after I’ve felt the pliant mold of her compact curves against my body. If she asked for another kiss, I’d be on her before I could even catalogue all the reasons I should refuse.
And that’s bad.
Badddddd.
By the time I get to Valdman’s office, I more or less have a plan in place. Trent the Secretary waves me inside, and I give a cursory knock on the door before I step in.
“Ah, Sean,” Valdman says. He’s in a chair by the window, flipping through a file in a manner so desultory that I’m sure he’s not actually reading anything inside, he just wanted to have something to look at while he drinks more morning scotch.
“Hi, sir.”
“How’d it go with the nuns?”
I clear my throat, trying to muster the confidence and charm that normally come so easily to me. “Nothing’s decided yet, but I saw the shelter and I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of how to handle this.”
Need you Now (Top Shelf Romance Book 2) Page 115
