It gave Kady hope. She closed her eyes, and for one precious moment allowed herself to believe that Tristan actually felt something for her. Something other than contempt.
Tristan felt paralyzed. He couldn’t move. If truth be told he didn’t want to move. The girl in his arms felt too damn good, damn her. But then, Kady had always felt good. Too good. In his arms, no woman had ever felt so fucking perfect—a fact that displeased him greatly. Despite the almost foot height difference between them, they fit together like pieces in a puzzle. Her body aligned with his as if mathematically molded to his exact dimensions. like she’d been custom made by the Almighty especially for him. Holding her again was like embracing a piece of heaven.
It was also pure hell.
And if he thought she smelled intoxicating before, fused together like this he thought he could get drunk off the mere nearness of her. With that sweet fragrance clouding his senses, those buoyant breasts rubbing against his upper abs, the adrenaline precipitated by her near fall making his heart race… Hell, no wonder he was getting lightheaded himself.
Angered by the familiar tightening he felt behind his fly, Tristan released his hold on her, startling Kady with the abruptness. With a quick, furtive adjustment of his crotch he gruffly asked, “You all right?”
“Kady!” Mrs. Janacek’s shriek pierced the air. “My God, you could’ve broken your neck! Why weren’t you more careful?” She was ascending the stairs while scolding her daughter in that furious, half-hysterical way mothers do when they’ve just had the bejeezus scared out of them. “What were you thinking? You of all people know better!”
She glanced at Tristan, a world of meaning in their quicksilver exchange.
“Mom, I’m all right. Just got a little woozy, that’s all.”
“That’s all! Kadence, get back to bed. Now. This instant.”
Before she could move Tristan heard himself utter, “I got this.” Then to everyone’s surprise—most of all his—scooped Kady off her feet.
As a small squeak escaped her, Kady entwined both arms around his neck and held on tight as he headed for the cluster of bedrooms at the end of the hall.
“Last one on the left,” Silvie directed.
“I remember,” he mumbled. It was no small exaggeration to say that in his youth Tristan Cleary had spent more time hanging out in Kady’s bedroom than his own.
Trying to ignore both the obvious reason this whole thing was a bad idea and the sublime feel of the woman in his arms, he picked up his pace.
“I’ll bring juice and crackers,” Silvie sang out after them.
By the smile she couldn’t suppress it was obvious she considered this a fortuitous turn of the tide. Her husband may have had his doubts about Kady and Tristan but she always had faith they were meant to be together. Despite how long it was taking, she still believed it was only a matter of time.
Carrying Kady as if she weighed no more than a bag of feathers, Tristan strode down the hallway with one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. Like a damn bridegroom. What was he thinking?
A luscious breast was inches from the hand gripping her side. He had to fight his fingers from inching closer to it. And if that wasn’t flustering by itself, her other tit was mashed against his chest. He could feel his spine begin to stiffen along with his—
Fuck.
Biting back a groan, he cursed his reaction. Popping a chub was the last thing he needed right now and the last thing he expected. Morning wood aside, the holy father didn’t get spontaneous full-fledged erections anymore. Not since he’d reaffirmed his vows. Cutting himself some slack, he hadn’t had a female rubbing up against him in a while. A long while. And being in close physical contact with a woman, any woman was inevitably going to elicit a physical response. His body was only doing what came naturally. The reaction was involuntary. It was biology. Had nothing whatsoever to do Kadence Janacek. Damnit, it didn’t.
With her arms tightly around his neck, Kady burrowed her face into Tristan’s clerical collar and wormed her body closer, causing him to tense and curse under his breath. If he hadn’t noticed earlier, he was now being made blatantly aware that the deceptively childlike gown she had on was as thin as gossamer. He could feel every inch of her warm skin as if she were buck-naked.
“James 1:12,” the father muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Blessed is the man that endureth temptation.
There was no doubt in Tristan’s mind that her mother had informed her he’d be stopping by today. So of course the little conniver donned the flimsy nightgown on purpose hoping he’d see her in it. If her intention was to rock his equilibrium, she was doing a damn good job of it.
Kady wasn’t up to anything at all. There was no way she could’ve foreseen ending up in Tristan’s arms again. She only knew that she would never get another chance like this again and was simply taking advantage of the moment, enjoying the feel of his hard masculine body melded against her own soft feminine one. She didn’t even care that he detested touching her, which was apparent by his rigid body language and all the smothered swearing he was doing.
Absently she began playing with the curling ends of hair at the back of his neck, the way she used to whenever he’d been past due for a trim. Unknowingly, her innocent ruffling was sending currents of erotic electricity down Tristan’s spine and into his groin where the sensation loitered as doggedly as a panhandler at a traffic light.
Feeling his cock twitch in response, he prayed to arrive at his destination before the scantily clad temptress in his arms did anything else to weaken his already watery resolve. But when he heard her murmur something inaudible against his throat, without thinking he lowered his head.
Was that how his mouth ended up on her temple? Through the little blue vein that dwelled there he could feel Kady’s heart pulsing erratically against his lips. That he could be physically affecting her in turn was gratifying, in a smug sort of way.
After what felt like a two-mile walk, he thanked Christ when he finally reached her room. Confused by the furniture he saw inside, he halted in the doorway thinking he’d somehow gotten it wrong. Then he recognized the garish striped wallpaper and realized Kady’s old bedroom had been converted into a home office.
Stepping inside his old haunt, a sudden swell of nostalgia overtook him. He glanced around the room, helpless in preventing the reservoir of bittersweet memories from flooding in. Quickly Tristan made his way to the air mattress, swallowing convulsively against the emotion clawing its way up his throat.
God, the countless hours they’d whiled away in here together. Talking, studying, listening to music, making-out (chastely, of course)… If walls could talk. Being back here felt both familiar and strange, comforting and perturbing. And painful. So unexpectedly painful.
Laying his burden on the bed, he had to resort to using some gentle force to pry Kady’s arms from around his neck. She was clinging to him like lint on a sweater and if he lost his balance he’d be pulled down on top of her.
“You can let go any time.”
Kady instantly released him, flushed with embarrassment and something else.
Thinking it a miracle his dick hadn’t gotten any harder than it had in the hallway, Tristan felt relieved to have made it here in one piece. The prudent thing to do now would be to turn around and leave. But like a dipshit he remained standing beside the bed, staring down at Kady while she stared back up at him. Over the past forty-eight hours he hadn’t made a single wise decision where this woman was concerned so why the hell should that change now?
Neither of them spoke for what seemed like the passing of an eon.
Which gave Tristan’s gaze ample time to peruse her from the top of her disheveled head to the tip of her chipped-polish toenails. One side of her nightgown was bunched up, exposing a thigh as well as giving the priest a titillating peek of red satin panties. Panties that did little to cover the thatch of blonde curls nestled
between her thighs, thereby answering the age-old question Tristan hadn’t realized he’d even asked.
Yes, the carpet did match the drapes.
Fuck. He was one cock-twitch away from ripping off those panties, spreading open her legs and burying his face in that soft golden fleece. The little tease wouldn’t know what hit her before she was screaming out his name and coming in his mouth.
“Your purse,” he blurted, a deep V between his brows.
Kady came up onto her elbows. Her mouth opened but his brusquely raised hand cut her off. “That’s the only reason I’m here,” he informed her.
A strap had slipped down her arm, drawing attention to a silky shoulder, a delicate clavicle, and—why God?—the top half of one perfectly plump breast. His dark gaze wafted over the virginal-white gown so lightweight that every detail of the woman’s anatomy was outlined, including her fucking nipples. Those perky buds were pointed right at him. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he could even see her areolas. And they looked to be the size of a half-dollar. And the pale pink color of cotton candy. Of course they did.
His features contorted into a full-on scowl. “It wasn’t to make sure you were okay,” he insisted.
She blinked up at him.
“I didn’t stop by to check up on you, okay?” He crossed his arms as if expecting a challenge.
Though her expression remained unreadable, Tristan saw that her eyes had narrowed—albeit infinitesimally—and knew from experience it meant she was becoming annoyed. But since she refrained from expressing herself verbally, they resumed staring at each other in mutually resentful silence.
Suddenly furious he roared, “What were you thinking?”
Pink pillowy lips compressed into a thin white line as Tristan resumed his rant.
“You know you hold liquor like a sieve. Why didn’t you use any common sense? Why were you even drinking in the first place?” Tristan began pacing the room like a caged panther. “And since when do you do shots? It’s unbelievable how reckless you’ve become.”
Kady felt like a child getting reprimanded by a parent and she didn't like it. Didn't like the tone Tristan was taking with her. Who did he think he was? He may be a father but he wasn’t her father.
You’re not the boss of me.
His head snapped back to her. “What?”
Kady’s eyes rounded. Had she said that out loud?
“Is that your idea of a night out? Getting so tanked you can’t even stand straight? Is that what you do for fun now?”
“And if it is?”
“When did you become such an airhead?”
When did you become such an asshat?
She didn’t just say that out loud, too, did she?
“What were you trying to prove doing all those consecutive shots?”
“Thought you stopped by to give me my purse, not give me a lecture.”
The more Tristan thought about what could’ve happened to her the more enraged he became. “Jesus Christ, if I hadn’t—” He tore a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ.”
“What’s really eating you?”
He whirled on her. “Goddamnit, woman, you almost got yourself raped!”
Their eyes locked.
“Bingo,” she whispered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Already aware of how Tristan felt, it shouldn’t have hurt like it did. Not the words. It was the accusation in his tone that made Kady’s stomach twist like a sponge wrung of water.
“You-you think I asked for it.”
He was staring at her hard, his body so tense he could’ve passed for a statue. When he didn’t say or do anything to deny it Kady ingested a sob and flopped onto her side away from him, but not quick enough that he didn’t catch the sheen of beginning tears in her eyes.
Drawing her legs into her chest, she morphed into a tight ball and bore her face into the pillow. “Just go,” she told him, her voice muffled by down.
She stayed like that, curled into herself, not moving, listening for him to leave. Waiting until she was alone so she could release the anger and anguish bottled up inside her. Minutes limped by. When she didn’t hear a sound or detect any movement she assumed he’d snuck out of the room. Kady released a breath. Relieved that he left. Disappointed he was gone.
When the mattress dipped behind her, a spark of joy flared. “I told you to go,” she shouted, extinguishing it.
Tristan sat on the edge of the bed, fists balled in his lap as he fought the urge to reach out and touch her. Not knowing what to offer short of an apology—the very idea of which he found untenable—he simply sighed and waited.
She was quiet as a church mouse. Even as her shoulders started to shake.
Hell. Tristan wiped a hand down his face. Now he’d gone and done it. Made her cry. Goddamnit. He couldn’t stand it when Kady cried. It annoyed the crap out of him. “Aw come on…” In truth, he didn’t like how much seeing her upset affected him.
“Go away.”
“Listen, I—”
“Leave!”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I said go.
“I wasn’t—”
“Get out!”
“You little fool, you had me crazed out of my goddamn mind.”
Kady went completely still. As did Tristan. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. Hadn’t meant to say it at all.
Fuckit, might as well hang for a sheep as a lamb. “You scared the shit out of me, okay? When I saw that guy— When I saw what he was—” He grasped her shoulder. “I still care about you, damnit. Enough not to want you to get hurt, anyway.”
At that last bit, Kady made a small sound like a broken whimper.
“When I saw you at the pub last night I admit I was far from happy about it, yet when you disappeared… I mean in light of how much you’d been drinking… I got concerned. What happened, or almost happened, wasn’t your fault. I don’t hold you responsible for the things that bastard was doing or planning to do. I don’t blame you.”
If only he could’ve left it at that. Left well enough alone. But the part of Tristan that refused to let go of his righteous anger added, “Not for this.”
At the jab, Kady stiffened.
His grip on her tightened.
She continued to ignore him.
He gave her a little shake.
“Damnit, come on.”
In a flash Kady rolled over. Propping herself on her elbows she regarded him through icy slits. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her cheeks ruddy and streaked with tear-stains and pillow-creases. Strands of tangled hair clung to her mouth like seaweed on a rock. No arguing she was an ugly crier. Yet Kadence Emilia Janacek was still the most heartbreakingly beautiful woman Ryan Tristan Cleary had ever laid eyes on.
“‘Not for this?’” she whispered. “You don’t blame me for this… but for everything else, right?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yet it’s what you said.”
He huffed out a breath of concession. “Yet it’s what I said.”
Kady flipped back into fetal position.
“Don’t!” More forcefully than intended he grabbed her arm. “Don’t turn away from me.”
Flinging off his hold she jack-knifed into a sitting position, her periwinkle blue irises flashing silver with outrage. “The way you turned away from me?”
The truth of it couldn’t be disputed and for a moment Tristan felt a stab of remorse. Then he shored up his walls and countered coldly, “I had just cause and you know it.”
“No,” she cried, “No, you didn’t.”
He stared at her blankly. “You fucking serious?”
“Why, Tristan? Why didn’t you take my side?”
He leaped off the bed. “God, you are fucking serious.”
“You claimed to love me more than anything and yet you wouldn’t support me, trust me.”
“You’ve got stones, you know that? You gave me nothing. Nothing. Has memory failed you in your
advanced age, or is your brain so fried you don’t remember how you refused to tell me a damn thing? I would’ve—as you so childishly put it—‘taken your side’. Of course I would have. But, and please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, there was no fucking side to take. I was left on my own. Left to assume the worst.”
“Which you did.”
“Which I did. Thanks to you. What the hell, woman? What did you expect? That I was to just go on with our lives as if nothing took place? Should I not have asked any questions? Was I suppose to turn a blind eye? Pretended nothing happened? Ignored—”
“You’ve made your point.”
“If you would’ve offered me something, anything…”
“I told you I couldn’t.”
“Right. Your fucking secret.” The mocking air quotes were meant to belittle. From the look on Kady’s face he succeeded. “Was I expected to simply accept it? ‘Mine is not to reason why, mine is but to do and die.’ Is that it? My fiancée winds up in the ER and I’m not supposed to ask her a thing about it? What fantasy world were you living in where something like that happens? How could you believe we’d just go back to the way we were like none of it happened? How? How in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost could you not tell me anything about the guy who put you in the fucking hospital.”
“He didn’t—”
“Not technically, maybe, but he was responsible just the same.” Kady could practically taste the bitterness in his tone.
“Why, Tristan?” she breathed. “Why does your hate for me now seem so much stronger than your love for me before?”
Tristan felt her words like an ax to the heart. She obviously knew where to aim to make the hit count. He shook his head. Not a denial but a dismissal. “Until you’re willing to tell me everything… all of it… the entire truth… There’s no point to any of this.”
“Oh my God, Tristan, I don’t believe you. That’s why I came to see you the other day. I told you! I told you I wanted to— You wouldn’t listen! You said you didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. You said— You said— You told me to stay the hell out of your life!”
Kady had gotten to her feet and was stalking the room, shrieking hoarsely, gesticulating wildly and growing dizzier by the second. Tristan saw the vein at her temple throbbing in full relief. Sweat sheened her forehead. Her complexion went from flushed to faded. With her deathly pallor, pale blonde hair, and white gown billowing about her she resembled a wraith.
FATHER: Men of the Cloth - Tristan (Forbidden Priest Romance 1) Page 10
