Page 56 of Savior

“That isn’t how it works.”

I turn towards the screen. “I’m not a priest, no. But it has to be hard not to have anyone to talk to. I could hear your confessions. They’d go no further than this booth.”

There’s no humor wafting from the other side of the screen—just silence.

He’s considering.

I am overwhelmed with what he’s done to get me away from Matteo and what he’s done since he saved me.

I push out of the booth and open his door.

He’s sitting on the seat against the back wall, cassock gone, clad in jeans and a button-up shirt. Between his hands is his rosary, and his fingers wear its beads religiously.

“Swap places with me, and let me unburden you,” I say meekly.

I felt much more confident on the other side of the booth when there was a wall between us.

His smile is beautiful, though a little sad. “If only you could.”

Pure idiocy befalls me, and I step into the space, shutting the door behind me.

“Sloane,” he says.

There’s barely any illumination between us, but there’s tension.

And it’s rapidly building.

I fall to my knees before him, hands resting on his thighs. “I’m sorry.”

Even through the dim light of the confessional, I watch as curiosity forms on his face.

“What are you sorry for? That you have met a man who can’t bask in your beauty? Who can’t return any of the sentiments you blessed me with the other night?”

I swallow. It’s tough to breathe.

“No. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have made you break your vows. Fuck, you shouldn’t even have me in your home.”

“Nor should you be on your knees in my confessional,” he says, and it’s laced with fire.

The kind I want to dance around, its flames licking up my skin like electricity.

“I was getting to that,” I joke, but he doesn’t laugh.

Sitting forward, he lifts the rosary and puts it over my head. He watches it fall over my breasts, which are pushed up inside another dress Ardesia had gotten me. I paired it with a light sweater because of the chill outside and for modesty in the church.

Before I can fathom what’s happening, he twists the rosary and cinches it up against my throat, my breath cutting off.

Panic sweeps in. Even though I trust him, I don’t know what he will do.

My core tightens in anticipation.

“You are burrowing into me like a fucking sickness.” He seethes, his lips dangerously close to mine.

I don’t say a word. I have no words.

No air.

My hands grasp at his as he runs his nose over the tip of mine.

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