Authors: Lisa Desrochers
“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 during 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.
F
EELING 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.
And the whole time he watches, his gaze flickering from his hand between my legs to my face, which I know is flushed by the way it burns.
“I need to taste you, Lexie,” he says, crooking a finger inside me. “Can I kiss you here?”
“God, yes,” I moan.
I don’t even have time to think about my poor choice of words before his mouth is on me. His tongue presses into my clit, and I cry out. I’m fairly certain my actual words are, “Oh, God!” because that’s pretty much my MO, but I can’t be sure. His fingers slip inside me, and I buck my hips and cry out again when he sucks. His moan totally unhinges me. He licks me as his wet fingers twist inside me, and I arch up and fight to remember how to breathe. His tongue playing over my clit sends sparks skittering over my skin, lighting me on fire. “Holy God!” I groan. He moans, low and deep, really more of a growl, and I prop up on my elbows so I can see him. His feral gaze connects with mine, and he holds my eyes as he swirls his tongue against my clit. I’m right on the edge of exploding into his mouth when he finally pulls away.
He leans over me, and I feel him hard against me through his pants. Why the hell didn’t I rip those things off when I had the chance?
His hands and mouth move over every inch of my body as if they’re trying to memorize me. He sucks my hard nipples—first the right, then the left. When his mouth finds mine, I can taste my arousal on his lips: salty and clean. He hesitates and trails a finger over the tattoo above my left breast as he kisses his way to my ear. “Lexie,” he breathes, “please tell me you have protection.”
I don’t. I’ve used all of Sam’s condoms for self-defense. I never expected . . . this. “I’m sorry.”
He pulls back and scowls down at the white collar on the floor. “I can’t very well walk into a pharmacy and buy condoms.”
I close my eyes, and my face pinches involuntarily. “I’m sorry,” I say again, and suddenly I realize it’s for more than the condoms.
I can’t do this.
My fingers go automatically to my tattoo as my heart under it crumbles. I love Trent. I will always love Trent. I can’t deny it, or hide from it, or pretend what happened between us didn’t matter. It did matter, and I can’t be with anyone else. I can’t have sex with Alessandro when I know what it feels like to make love to Trent.
I push Alessandro back and sit up, suddenly uber-conscious that I’m totally naked on my dining-room table with a half-dressed almost-priest hovering over me, his huge erection straining the fabric of his slacks.
“I’m sorry, Alessandro. I can’t do this.”
I slip off the table and disappear behind my bedroom door before he even has time to react. I’m afraid he’ll knock or call to me through the door.
He doesn’t.
A few minutes later, I’m still pressed against the door, holding my breath, when I hear my front door open, then click closed. I hear him on the stairs and hurry to my window. I watch as Alessandro pushes through the door to the street with his head down and strides quickly toward the corner. When he turns and flashes a glance over his shoulder toward my apartment, I catch a glimpse of his starched white collar, snugly in place, before he vanishes onto the main road.
I lean out the window a little farther, still watching after him. A little part of me hopes he’ll come back . . . that he’ll fight for me. He doesn’t, and when I back away from the window and look up, Grandma Moses is watching me from her balcony.
She glances to the corner where Alessandro just disappeared, then back at me, and her clucking sound carries across the street, echoing off the buildings for the whole city to hear as she tsks me. And that’s when I realize I’m still buck naked.
On Thursday, I text Abby and tell her I’m sick, so I won’t be in class. After class, she texts me my assignments.
On Friday, I text Abby and tell her I’m still sick, so I won’t be in class. After class, she texts me my assignments for Monday.
And then it’s finally Saturday.
I do the same thing I did on Thursday and Friday. I pull the sheet over my head and pretend my bed is a coffin. Pretending to be dead is a lot easier than living with what I’ve done.
Alessandro hasn’t called. His ordination is tomorrow, at Easter observance. I so want to talk to him . . . to know what he’s thinking. He’s one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met, and I’m afraid I just ruined his life.
What if I ruined his life?
I’m terrified to find out, so I don’t call him either.
But there is one thing I know for sure. I couldn’t be with Alessandro because I’m totally, one hundred percent in love with Trent. So, even though I can’t find the nerve to follow up with Alessandro, I finally get up the nerve to send a text I should have sent months ago. I pick up my phone and start typing from memory the speech I’d rehearsed so many times before Christmas.
I’m taking my best friend’s advice and telling the man I love how I feel about him. I’m in love with you, Trent. I think I may have always loved you. The way fate brought us together was sort of cruel, but maybe when fate gets its chance, it has to take it. Maybe your becoming my brother was the only way fate could guarantee we’d find each other. All I know is, if there’s one person in this world that I was meant to meet and fall in love with, it’s you. You are my soul mate. You always have been. When we’re apart, it’s like a vital piece of me is missing. I can survive without you, but I can’t live. I can’t be fully alive. I love you with every fiber in my body. I love you with my whole heart. No matter what happens between us from here, I just thought you should know.
I don’t even read it over before hitting
SEND
, afraid that if I do, I’ll chicken out.
A minute later, my phone buzzes, and my heart stalls. I cringe, scared to flipped it over and look at the screen. The way I see it, this can only go one of two ways. It’s either Trent telling me he loves me too, or telling me that I’m delusional. I mean, when your stepsister confesses her undying love, there’s not much middle ground.
I turn the phone slowly in my hand, still cringing, and looking at the screen through slitted eyes. Maybe if I only partially see it, it won’t bite so hard. But when I see who it’s from, my heart stalls again.
Sam.
Shit.
Was she with him when I sent that? I remember going through Rick’s texts when he got out of bed to go to the bathroom. Are they in bed together? Is Trent in the bathroom peeling off his condom?
Stop. Just stop.
I can drive myself crazy wondering, or I can open the damn text. I open the damn text.
Hey gurl! Do you know if Trent likes the beach or the mountains better? Booking a romantic getaway for when we get home for break.
They’re not together. But,
shit.
It’s as if she knows I just told her boyfriend I love him. This is her way of making me feel like the girls in Rick’s texts—the ones who are just skanky enough to go after someone else’s man. That’s me, Lexie the skank.
Damn.
I don’t answer. I can’t.
So: Trent, Alessandro, Sam . . . I’m running out of friends to totally alienate and humiliate. I’m going to die without a friend in this world, then burn in hell for all eternity. Just what I deserve.