Page 83 of Sinfully His

I said nothing in response. There was nothing I could say. If I tried to deny it, he would see through the lie, and if I admitted it, then he would have far too much power over me again.

Stiffening my back and willing my body to ignore the way it was pulled to his, I walked away.

“You don’t have to say anything, angel. I can see the way your eyes linger on my body. I can even see the way your breath deepens when I’m around you. Your body craves me. Why deny yourself?”

“I’m only denying your delusion,” I lied. Then I went to greet a string quartet player and show him where he and the others would set up later that night.

When he cornered me again, we weren’t alone. Mrs. Donahue came to check on the progress we had made.

“Oh, this all looks so wonderful,” she gushed to Father Manwarring. “I’m so glad you could make it back in time. We would have been lost without you.”

And here I thought she simply needed me.

I cleared my throat, and I was pretty sure that was the first time she even realized I was there.

“Your mother would be so proud of how you’ve pulled this together,” she said, patting my shoulder like I was a child.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Donahue,” Father Manwarring said, gripping my arm and pulling me away from her. “I need Rose to go run a quick errand.”

I opened my mouth to complain, but he talked right over me.

“Can you go up to the main cathedral? Under the pulpit, there is a storage closet. There are several extra altar candles in there. Can you grab some for me? The silver candlesticks look a little empty, and I think they would be better served with candles in them. Don’t you agree?”

My cheeks flamed with his words. I ducked my head just enough so that my hair curtained my face as I turned to go fetch the candles.

It took me only a few minutes to locate a box of the white taper candles, images of what he and I did in this very room flashing in my mind.

The way he touched me, the way he punished me and how my body so willingly bent to his. He showed me I needed things I didn’t even know to want.

I could say I didn’t want it over and over. I could say he was holding my reputation over my head and that it was coercion at best. It didn’t change a damn thing. Because I wanted it. No matter how much I pretended I didn’t, how much I protested, my body wanted his touch and it wanted to bend to his will. It wasn’t the night he spent licking between my thighs that I thought about late at night. It was the way he spanked me, with his hand, with the belt. The way he put me on my knees and demanded I serve him. Those were the moments I replayed in my mind every night.

I liked the way he made me feel, even when he was punishing me, even when he hurt me. Although he never really hurt me. He was expanding the bounds of what my body could handle. What he called punishment was showing me everything that I was too afraid to admit I craved.

I shook the thoughts out of my head, reminding myself that he used me. That he didn’t love me. The acts that we did together were not expressions of love, they were of power. Not even a power struggle between me and him, but between him and my mother.

It took everything I felt for him and twisted it into something grotesque. I thought he was trying to break my will, to bend my body. Instead, he broke my heart.

I grabbed the box of candles and returned to the basement, ready with some excuse for Mrs. Donahue about why I had to go home. A migraine, perhaps? Being around everything mymother planned was just too difficult? It didn’t matter, I was going to make my excuses and leave.

When I got back to the basement, everyone had gone. All the volunteers, the other society women, they were all gone. The only person left was Father Manwarring.

“I said we need to talk.”

He took several steps toward me. I knew what he wanted, and worse, I wanted it too. But some things were more important than what I wanted. I needed him to leave me alone.

Dropping the box of candles at my feet, I turned and ran out of the room. If we were alone together, I knew exactly what was going to happen, and it couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t allow it. Not again. I couldn’t survive him wrecking me again.

Even the hallway had already been completely emptied as I ran, looking for a way out. Father Manwarring chased after me. His shoes slapping on the carpet as he called for me to stop.

His voice getting closer by the second.

CHAPTER 35

THOMAS

Why was she always trying to run from me?

How did she not understand that she was mine?

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