Page 31 of The Love of Priest

"Let me have you," Priest throated out in a husky tone, his words almost constricting Britain’s breathing. Eyeing him, she nodded her head.

Priest licked his hips. "Tell me I can have you Britain," he ordered.

"You can have me," Britain verbalized with a nod.

Britain gasped when she felt Priest's cold hands grace her inner thighs. She had always been self-conscious about that part of her body. She was darker complexioned, and her inner thighs always seemed to grow far darker than the rest of her body. Cameron had shamed her for it once, which caused her to immediately seek some type of fix for the darkness of her inner thighs. She soon regretted the decision to appease Cameron once she was three sessions into bleaching her inner thighs at a wax salon, which impacted her skin drastically. Since then, she had just let it be. She hadn't thought about it much since she hadn't had any relations with anyone, but now, with Priest here with her, she immediately felt the urge to clench her legs shut.

Priest couldn't help but notice Britain's instant reluctance. His brows furrowed as he searched her eyes for an answer before he asked her.

"What's the issue?" Priest asked her. He removed his hands from the inner portion of her thighs. He took up the space beside her, causing a feeling of relief to flow through Britain once she was able to close her legs.

"It's nothing with you," Britain assured him, breaking the moment of silence.

Priest laid beside her, appreciating her beauty. "I know that. Tell me what's bothering you."

"You'll just think it's stupid." Britain shook her head. Men were careless. They did and said things that, unbeknownst to them, affected a woman in every way. Cameron was one of those men who said anything that came to mind, despite whether it hurt Britain or not. Britain had gotten accustomed to it. Although she knew Priest was far different from Cameron, she didn't want to take her chances.

Priest scoffed lightly. "You're assuming things now?" he asked, a look of distaste taking over his face.

Britain shook her head. Priest was vocal about any and everything. Lying wasn't something he found joy in doing, and neither was sugarcoating things. Just like he preferred the real, he knew everyone he came across would appreciate how real he truly was.

"It's just a minor insecurity I have."

"What could it be? You're gorgeous." He took ahold of her hand, caressing her knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

Britain felt her face heat up at the compliment Priest bestowed upon her. It had been a while since a man had said that to her and caused butterflies in her stomach. Priest rotated so he could lie on his side to face her.

"Tell me what it is," he urged her.

Britain let out a sigh. She was so embarrassed. Right now, she didn't want to have this conversation with Priest. She honestly thought he would have entered her core by now, exploring the depths of her soul and energy.

"I'm just darker down there," she sheepishly confessed without serving him any eye contact. "Goodness, I sound so stupid. Forget I even?—"

"What you expected, to be pale down there?" Priest twisted his face in confusion, not understanding why she allowed it to be an insecurity. "C'mon, Britain. I know who you are and what you represent. You embody the essence of the beauty of being black, and I couldn't be any more attracted to you than I am now. Shit like that don't turn me away, and it shouldn't cause you to shame yourself either. It's natural. You're natural," he eased out while caressing her face. Britain had finally found the courage to gaze into his dark eyes, and they had finally softened. No longer dull and emotionless, Priest’s eyes had brightened and become inviting… captivating even!

"Who hurt you?" Priest suddenly questioned. He could read the hurt all in Britain's eyes. She was still healing and trying her best to mend the wounds that were inflicted upon her. Britain instantly felt a disconnect. Resigning to her pain and opening up about it wasn't something that could be easily done. Britain sat up before the will to cry began to set in and she ended up embarrassing herself in front of Priest far more than she just had.

"No one," she curtly replied while getting up from the bed and making a bee line straight to her bedroom’s adjoining bathroom.

Before she got the chance to shut him out and close the door, Priest halted her. "Whoever hurt you, I'm not him. I'll show you the joy in life and the joy of being a strong, independent black woman, Gioia," he declared. "Get yourself together. I'll still be here when you're done."

She said nothing. Her response was shutting the bathroom door behind her. Enclosing herself inside, she gathered her emotions and got herself together like Priest advised her to. Her facade had been cracked. She had been hurt before, and it was still inflicting pain in her life and self-esteem.

ChapterThirteen

Fatigue drenchedBritain's entire aura as she dragged herself through the door of her mother's chiropractor office. In her headphones, she could hear Priest chuckle at her occasional yawns and groans.

"Make some coffee or something," Priest suggested over the phone.

Phone calls were probably his least favorite thing to do, but for Britain's sake, there he was on the phone with her. Britain was pretty worn out from staying up all night with Priest and watching different movies that caught their eye on Netflix. Since she had a lengthy drive to her mother's clinic, Priest kept her company over the phone to make sure she didn't fall asleep while on the road.

"That's gonna take a while to kick in," Britain whined. "We really should have never watched that last movie."

She was now regretting her excitement for the movie and the urge she felt to watch it after reading the description. Priest had advised her it would be best to go to bed, but Britain insisted he let her worry about her fucked up sleep schedule.

Priest found her bumping into walls and barely able to keep her eyes open while getting dressed in her scrubs hilarious. "Drink some coffee, Gioia. It'll help. Trust me," he insisted.

Britain let out a low groan as she shuffled her way through the back of the clinic and into the break room, which was accommodated with a full fridge, sink, two tables, and, luckily for her, an espresso coffee machine.

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