Page 41 of Savior

I’ve struck a chord.

But the longer I remain standing face to face in his aura, the more our breathing shifts into dangerous cadences.

“Sloane,” he whispers, and it pops the bubble of whatever the hell is between us that is building to unbearable pressure.

He clears his throat and looks forward.

“You’re celibate, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

His face turns back towards mine, shock wavering on it. “How can you even think about?—”

The implication of his words and what he means behind them slams into me. He wants to know how I could be attracted to him after I was just raped.

He still doesn’t understand.

“I’ve spent my life shoving things that ought to be dealt with away, Luca,” I tell him softly, remaining too close for safety. His eyes don’t shy away from my gaze. “I’ve had far worse done to me than what Matteo Barone did, and that’s just the plain truth. Was it horrible? Yes. But will I wallow in it and work through it right now? No. And that’s my choice, Luca. Not yours.”

The second use of his name seems to draw him closer to me, as if I’m the flame he can’t avoid.

“I’m not good for you, Sloane.”

“What? I didn’t…”

He shakes his head, lifting his finger and placing it over my lips to silence me. His finger on my mouth is as soft as a shadow splayed on the wall behind him, present but never making a sound.

“You did. And trust me, in another world, I would. Goddamned you, I would. But I’m too old for you, and not eventhat. I’m a man who could never please you as you deserve to be.”

His words enshroud me and make me warm.

So fucking warm.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine. His finger falls away from my lips, and our breathing tangos.

I will ignore that he has been thinking about how I deserve to be pleasured.

Well, I’m going to try.

“You took the lord’s name in vain again,” I point out.

“So, four sins, then?” he whispers, pulling back and looking at me from above as he straightens.

I smile. “Four.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SLOANE

After the awkwardness in Luca’s office yesterday, I’ve avoided him. I can’t help the steady burn of rejection that’s searing my stomach and causing anxiety to thrum wildly.

I know that his rejection is logical, of course. He’s eighteen years older than me, my father’s friend, and a fucking priest.

The last bit should be the only reason I need to leave the subject of him alone, but the more he’s logical about the matter, the more rejected I feel.

Today, I woke up to a note stating that I should be ready for something fun by noon. Luca signed it with an exquisite L at the bottom of the page, and I ran my finger over it far longer than I probably should have.

I’ve dressed for warmth since the temperature outside is frigid today. The steady breeze that rustles past causes the cold to seep through every layer of clothing I wear. And that was only when I stepped out to ensure I had enough clothes on.

I know I’m supposed to be under lock and key, so I don’t understand what Luca’s up to, but I’m excited at the prospect of getting out of the rectory.

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