Page 97 of Beneath His Robes

I cleared my throat, trying to break the moment before it turned into something too serious.

“All right, enough about ‘Elias the Holy Man’ for one night. You two are giving me a headache with all this deep talk. Travis, make yourself useful and grab some drinks from the fridge, yeah?”

Travis grinned again, his usual smirk returning.

“You got it, boss.” He turned toward the fridge and tossed me a wink. “Don’t worry, Father. This one hasn’t so much as batted his pretty black eyelashes at anyone in my line of work since he came crawlin’ back to ya. He’s a good boy, now.”

Elias laughed softly, the sound still gentle, but I could tell he appreciated the attempt at humor. I could feel the tension lifting, the easy camaraderie settling back in.

As Travis handed me a beer, I felt a strange sense of peace. Maybe it was because I was no longer alone in my mess. Maybe it was because Elias, somehow, had brought a sense of balance into everything that was wrong with my life.

But for the first time in a long time, it felt like there was a chance things could get better. Maybe not perfect, but better.

With him by my side, everything was possible.

ChapterThirty-Four

Elias

Later that night, I was in the kitchen with Ronan, finishing up the poorly made pasta he had tried his best to make. Travis fell asleep, and his snores filled the room from the couch in the living room, which was a short distance from us.

The apartment was quieter than when I first got here, the hum of the city outside muffled by the thin walls. There was a lingering tension between us, a charged silence that had been building ever since we entered the apartment.

I sat on the couch, trying to make myself comfortable, but the room’s soft lights and the space’s warmth all made me feel too aware of Ronan, too aware of how he moved, the quiet energy he carried, even when he wasn’t speaking.

He was in the kitchen now, a glass of water in his hand, eyes flicking over his shoulder as he looked at me. His gaze lingered for a second longer than usual, and I felt a rush of heat crawl up my neck. I hadn’t realized just how much I was still drawn to him, how much I had buried beneath layers of duty, of what I had convinced myself was right.

The weight of the situation pressed on me, and I shifted uncomfortably on the opposite chair from Travis, my legs too long for the furniture, my mind too distracted by him.

By us.

“Water?” Ronan’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up at him, caught off guard. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that you won’t be shooting shots with me.”

He was holding a second glass in his hand. His eyes were unreadable, yet intense. I could see the outline of his shirt, how it clung to his frame, and the way his hands—those strong tattooed hands—wrapped around the glass.

I nodded, unable to find my voice for a moment, then cleared my throat.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

He handed me the glass, his fingers brushing mine. The brief contact sent a sharp jolt of electricity through me, and I had to swallow hard, trying to ignore the temptation that surged within me.

“You okay?” he said, sitting down beside me. His voice was quiet, but the concern in it made me ache.

I nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah, just tired, I guess. From last night…”

The truth was, I wasn’t tired. I was anything but tired. I was awake in a way I hadn’t been in a long time. And it wasn’t just because of the time. It was him.

Ronan’s presence had always been magnetic, but tonight, it felt like he was pulling me in with an intensity I wasn’t sure how to handle. After getting a taste of him in such a forbidden way, I wanted more.

I needed more.

I wanted to consume him the way he consumed me.

He was so close now, the heat from his body just a few inches away from mine, and I could hear the soft rustling of his breath, a rhythm that seemed to match my own heartbeat.

“You know you’re giving me ‘fuck me eyes,’ right?” he said, his voice dropping an octave. He reached over, his hand hovering near mine. “Don’t ask for what you can’t handle, Father Cross.”

I turned my head toward him, my breath catching in my throat. His face was softer now, the sharp edges of his usual expression replaced by something deeper, something almost vulnerable.

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