Page 57 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
She was certain her body was going to combust as her body throbbed for more. She shivered as Dean turned and walked away, taking all the heat in the room with him. He had an unnatural effect on her, and she hated how easily she was prepared to get down and beg him to do with her as he wanted.
“Here you go,” Dean said, placing the amazing-looking meal in front of her. He’d also made a salad and a few other finger foods.
“Dean, can I ask you something?”
“This is sounding serious.”
“Don’t you feel guilty?” Yasmine hated ruining their delicious meal, but she needed to understand.
“Guilty for eating a meal with a beautiful woman? No, I do not.” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean sighed. “I guess you don’t mean the meal.”
“You know I don’t.”
“I’m not sure what to say. You know I had a past before becoming a priest, and it was filled with a wide variety of things that were not very priest-like. When I took my vows, I never understood the need to be celibate if you found someone that can make you happy. You, Yasmine, make me happy, so no, I don’t feel guilty, not in the way that you would think.”
He reached across the table and held his hand open for her to take. As soon as she laid her hand in his, she shivered with the strange connection they had.
“Please, Yasmine, can we not speak of this tonight? There will be many other nights to debate moral ethics.”
Yasmine nodded, conceding that she’d come, and she’d had the choice not to, so why sabotage the moment? By the time she was finished eating, she was stuffed. She also couldn’t deny that she was feeling much more relaxed. The easy flow of conversation, soft smiles, and teasing jokes altered her state of mind. It may also have had something to do with the half a bottle of wine she’d consumed since arriving.
No matter what happened tonight, this would only ever be a projection shining on a wall. Something she could pretend for a short amount of time that this was real, but soon it would be over, and she’d have to dive back into reality. Regardless, she wanted whatever she could get.
She loved the way he smiled at her like she was the only person in the world. Everything about him fascinated her, from the way his biceps flexed under his black shirt or even the unconscious gentle drumming of his fingers to the dimple in his cheek that only showed when he laughed. All these things about him all called to her. His dark masculine scent made her ache, and she realized that whether it was a week from now or a month, she was going to have to give herself fully over to her desires. This night would be inevitable because he’d been tailor-made for her.
“Would you like some of the pie?”
Dean stood, removing the dishes, and she couldn’t help admiring his hard-ass as he walked away. She rarely saw him in anything but his robes, but there was no denying he could fill out a pair of jeans like a god.
“I couldn’t eat another bite. Maybe later?”
The room was too quiet, and the sound of rain and the unexpected hail was all that could be heard as they stared at one another. The earlier nervousness was creeping its way back in, but this time it was in anticipation. The touch of his finger on her chin lingered, as did the memory of his all too experienced hand inside of her.
She knew he had a past. He admitted it not an hour ago, but the nagging knowledge of just how intimate he must have been before he chose this path had wormed its way into her subconscious. She wanted to know more. Had Dean been married, maybe engaged, had he lost the love of his life, and that’s what drove him to become a priest? Or had he simply been a player of all players and decided this was a good way to meet more women?
“I adore when you look at me like that.” Dean broke her rambling train of thought.
“And how is that?” Yasmine teased, smiling over the top of her wine glass.
“Like I’m your next meal, like a sexy vixen who needs to be set loose.”
Dean pushed away from the counter. The closer his long strides brought him, the faster her heart pounded in her chest. Her bravado jumped out the window with the look in his predatory stare, making her question her decision to come in the first place.
“Stand, Yasmine,” Dean ordered.
Her knees shook, but she did as he told her. The pad of his thumb ran along her bottom lip, the roughness telling her he was no stranger to hard work.
“What do you want, Yasmine?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered as Dean placed his other hand on her hip, pulling her closer to his much larger frame.
“Are you sure about that?”
Beads of sweat trickled down her back, and goosebumps rose all over her body. The passionate way he spoke to her said volumes about how she’d be thoroughly satisfied if she could let herself go once and for all and took what she desired.
“Tell me what you want,” Dean mumbled into the base of her neck.
Her mind froze mid-thought, her body roaring with a passion that she’d never known other than what she read in books or watched in her dirty videos. He took a deep breath as his tongue traced a wet line from her collarbone to her ear.
