Page 89 of Beneath His Robes

He didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve the weight of my sin.

I rubbed my face, my palms pressing against my eyes as if I could will away the shame. I had to be strong for him. I had to protect him from the choices I had made. And yet, every time I thought I had a hold on it and felt strong in my conviction to accept this reality, the desperation to cling to my faith crept back in.

I stood up abruptly, needing movement, needing anything to stop the thoughts from consuming me. The stained glass windows shone dimly, casting long shadows over the pews. The steeple, high above the church, felt like it was watching me—reminding me of my role, my responsibility. I wasn’t supposed to be this person. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about Ronan.

But I did.

I paced slowly toward the small side altar, fingers brushing lightly against the cool wood of the wall. The smell of incense lingered in the air, a familiar comfort, but it did nothing to settle my racing heart. I could feel the weight of my collar, the symbol of my commitment to this life, and it felt like a jail cell.

The confession stand brought a heat that seared into my bones, the very beginning of this long, painful journey of our love. I couldn’t look at the booths without biting my lip and being plagued by those images of his sinful hands stroking his cock so close to me yet so far.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway caught my attention, and my body went rigid, the thoughts evaporating in my mind like mist. I turned just in time to see Ronan stepping out of the small bathroom in the back of the church. His eyes were wary, his face flushed with a mix of confusion and something else. Maybe desire. Maybe regret. Maybe both.

He looked so…fragile. The way he stood there, trying to process everything that had just happened, the quiet desperation in his eyes for answers, for clarity—it killed me. I hated that I had brought him into this mess.

He took a step toward me, and for a moment, I thought maybe he was going to say something or ask for the answers. Instead, he just stopped, his gaze flicking to the floor, his towel snugly secured onto the curves my tongue knew so well.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

The words felt empty, but I couldn’t help it. I was sorry. So sorry. For everything. For the confusion, for making him feel like he had to carry this weight with me.

Ronan’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, his expression unreadable for a moment. He didn’t say anything. Just let the silence stretch between us like an invisible thread. The tension was unbearable.

Finally, he spoke, his voice rough. “Don’t apologize unless you regret it, Elias,” he murmured. “Because I don’t…”

“But…” I said, shaking my head and stepping closer to him. “You deserve so much more than this, Ronan. I should be able to stick to my choices. I need to let go of the weight of my collar. I don’t deserve?—”

He cut me off, his hand coming up to stop me, his fingers brushing against my chest. “I don’t need you to be anything you aren’t, Elias. I just…I don’t know what this means. I don’t know whatweare. I need to know you won’t run from me again.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak.

“Neither do I.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. “But I don’t want to lose you. I am not running. My soul be damned. I cannot run from you.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak, his eyes searching mine. Then, slowly, he nodded, a small, tentative smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Okay. I trust you, Elias.”

I didn’t know what the future held. I didn’t know how to navigate the mess I had created or how to make this right. I didn’t know how to begin to confess to Father Franklin, but I did know one thing: Ronan wasn’t just some passing moment, some mistake to be swept away in the rush of guilt. He was real. He mattered.

And, damn it, I couldn’t lose the man I loved.

I reached for him then, my hands trembling, and he didn’t pull away. He let me pull him close and wrap my arms around him, and for a moment, everything felt okay. It felt like the world outside this church, back in the car, outside of this house of God, and nothing mattered but him.

For once, I didn’t care about the rules, the vows, or the shame.

All I cared about was him.

And maybe that was the worst sin of all.

Maybe I had already fallen too far into hell to climb out to reach any Heaven.

ChapterThirty-One

Ronan

The way that Elias stared at me made me feel like he meant his words, but the fear of being a lie tightened my chest and twisted my gut. I had to believe him. I couldn’t accept anything else. Not now.

I pulled away from the embrace and smiled softly, lifting his chin to me. “Hey. C’mon Mon Pur. Let’s get you cleaned up. Yeah?”

Elias was filthy, covered in come and sweat alike. His hair was a mess, and it looked like he was tugging it while I was showering. I hated the turmoil in his eyes. I wanted to relieve his stress. Tell him he could have both his faith and me…but could he?

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