Page 75 of Hotter 'N Hell

It could be his family, and I could be torturing myself with thoughts of the girl who had his heart, even in death. If it was her, did he sit and look at her photo daily, missing her? Longing to hold her again? Wishing that she had been his first and not me?

Okay, whew, that one hurt. I was doing this to myself.

“Stop it,” I hissed.

I was assuming a lot and making up drama that wasn’t happening. He was a priest, so putting a photo of a girl he loved on his desk would be against his vows. Right? I mean, it had to be a family member. This was silly. I was worked up about nothing.

I would just go look and see so I could put it behind me before he got in here. Taking a deep breath, I stared at it. The what-ifs stacking up in my head. Could I look him in the eye if it was her?

Yes. It wasn’t like I didn’t know about her. He’d told me. Parts I wished I hadn’t had to hear. Like how he had loved her immediately. When he said he adored her, it was her as a person. He had fallen for her. Not sex. They hadn’t done anything sexually really. Kissing and touching boobs were child’s play.

When he had looked at me with adoration, it had been my hot, slick hole that incited that emotion in him. Not me. Not my glowing personality. He wasn’t in love with me.

I was making this worse. If I kept going on this train of thought, I was going to get depressed.

Squeezing my hands into fists at my sides, I walked over to his desk. Each step, I battled with stopping and running back to the corner to wait. But I kept going. Drawing closer. Until I wasthere.

The mahogany brushed my upper thighs as I leaned over, my fingers clutching the metal frame, and my breath stuck in my throat as I turned it around.

Brown eyes stared back at me. The purity in the way they gazed at whoever had taken the photo. Long black lashes, the perfect button nose, heart-shaped lips with a shiny, sheer pink from a simple gloss. Hair so dark that it was almost black hung over her shoulders. She was the kind of natural beauty that when you compared yourself to her, it only left you with your faults openly glaring back.

I set it down slowly, wishing I had stayed in that corner.

He had her there in front of him every day. He’d claimed he thought of me constantly, but that was a lie. How could he think of me when she sat there, smiling at him? Reminding him why he had chosen to be a priest? Of what it felt like to be in love?

Turning, I walked back to the door, unlocked it, and headed out the front entrance. My steps didn’t slow until I reached my new Range Rover, climbed inside, and drove away. When my phone started ringing, I ignored it. When it continued, I silenced it.

I drove around for the next two hours. Talking myself through this. Deciding what I could and couldn’t handle. What I wanted. What I was willing to sacrifice and what I wasn’t.

Twenty-Eight

Jude

I bolted out the door the moment her Range Rover pulled up next door. The shit twisting inside me had passed frantic a while ago, after thirty minutes of my calling, texting, and getting no response. Her vanilla-cinnamon scent had faintly wafted by me the moment I walked into my office. She’d been here. So, why the hell had she left?

Jerking the door open, I stalked into the building, my eyes scanning the area until they locked on her, unloading a bag. She stilled, then looked up at me. A tight smile touched her lips. I didn’t want that smile. I didn’t like that smile. It was without dimples. Her eyes didn’t sparkle.

“Where did you go?” My question sounded like a barked command.

She tensed, and her eyes flared with the fire I loved. “Hello to you too,” she said, her shoulders back and her chin slightly lifted.

“You went to my office. I could smell you. Why did you leave?” I asked less aggressively this time.

I could see the challenge as it shadowed her face.

“I needed to be alone to think. Decide what I could and couldn’t live with,” she replied.

“What does that mean?” I asked, moving toward her. The urge to grab her and hold on tight clawing at me. Panicked that she was about to slip away.

“I saw her photo on your desk, Jude.” The words were matter-of-fact. No emotion, but the pain that slashed across her face kicked me in the chest.

FUCK! Why hadn’t I thought about that? Because all I could think about was getting her alone again. Being near her. Being in her.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words to explain that when I wasn’t sure I had any that would make her feel better.

“It’s okay. Like I said, I needed to be alone to think. I spent two hours driving around and talking to myself.”

I searched her face as if the answers were written on it. Desperate to find the one that told me she wanted me. She wasn’t leaving me. I would chase her down if she tried.

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