Lust Is the Thorn Page 5

  I choked on a laugh, avoiding looking directly at him, as if he would see exactly how badly I wanted to come—with him. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Let’s do this.”

  Get this over with before I make a fool of myself, was more like it.

  I climbed over the side of the tub and he seized my elbow, supporting me in case I slipped. I jerked away reflexively, and he stared at me with parted lips. “Rose. I would never hurt you.”

  I swallowed hard and winced, cradling my arm. “Yeah. I…I know.”

  “What did he do to you last night?”

  “Nothing.” I bit my lip. “I’m fine. Just shaken up.”

  He clasped my face, swallowing hard. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay for me. You can let me in. Show me what you’re thinking.”

  I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But if I leaned on him, and told him all my secrets and fears, it would only be that much harder to watch him start his bright and shiny life without me. And he would love that life. Guys like Thorn were meant for bigger things than this. Than me.

  So I couldn’t afford to need him.

  “You know who I am, and you know how tough I am. I won’t let some guy with a Napoleon complex drag me down. I’m fine.” I paused at his frown. “I’ll be fine.”

  Shaking his head, he let out what sounded like a soft curse, curled his hand behind my neck, and pulled me into his embrace. He held me tightly, resting his cheek on my head, and let out a long breath. He smelled like cologne and Old Spice deodorant, and his hard chest under my cheek felt like heaven. It would have been so easy to burrow into him and let him protect me. It would have been so easy to forget who I was, and who he was, and just lean on him for once. To not be alone.

  But the thing about being alone is, you get used to it. To never having someone there when you come home. To never having someone bring you hot chocolate or chicken soup when you are sick. Being alone becomes almost comforting after a while. Like you’ve almost forgotten what it is like not to be lonely. The second you let someone in, though, and they leave? God, you remember just how badly it sucked ass to have no one in your life who cared whether you lived or died.

  I learned that lesson the hard way.

  He massaged my scalp, and my lids drifted shut for a second. “I’m here for you, Rose.”

  “I know.” I gritted my teeth and pushed off him. “But like I said, I can take care of myself. I’m good at it.”

  His shirt rode up, baring my black lace panties, and I started to yank it back down, but changed my mind. He’d seen me like this numerous times and it had never had an effect on him, so the only one in this room worrying was me. And I didn’t give a damn about my underwear.

  “Fine.” He dropped to his knees next to the tub, grabbing the handheld showerhead with his left hand. “Sit down.”

  I glowered at him. “You’re being bossy.”

  “Yep. Now sit.” He eyed me, his voice full of an unspoken demand that I unconsciously obeyed. “Now.”

  My butt hit the bottom of the tub before I even realized I was going to obey. “Geez. Where’d you pick up that tone of voice?”

  “School. Rest your arm on the side of the tub.” I did as I was told. “Good girl.” His grip on my other arm tightened, but he didn’t hold me tight enough to hurt. His touch was gentle. Kind. It made my vision blur with tears of gratitude, because I knew with Thorn I was always safe. He always had my back. “Now tip back your head. I’m going to use the handheld showerhead to get you nice and wet.”

  I did as told, pressing my lips together, and tried to relax my aching, abused muscles. As his fingers massaged my scalp again, I fought the urge to lean into him. “God, I feel like I’m a little kid again.”

  “When did you ever stop acting like a kid?” he asked, gathering my hair and squeezing. “I must’ve missed it.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” I gritted out.

  “I’m not allowed.”

  I laughed at that. I couldn’t help it. “But do you ever do it any—?”

  “Oops.” He jerked the showerhead forward, sending water trickling down my face and into my eyes. “Sorry.”

  I spluttered, blinking away the water. “Yeah. Sure you are.”

  He lowered his face to mine, nose to nose, and shot me a cocky grin. I knew he was putting on a show, trying to make me feel better by teasing me, but even though I knew that and tried to resist, it worked. Maybe because he cared enough to try and hide his worry from me. “Just trying to get all that glitter off your face. You look like one of those vampires in those movies everyone watched and picked teams for.”

  Snorting, I flicked water at him because I was totally Team Edward. It splattered across his cheek. “Twilight.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” He gave me a once-over, and something in his gaze darkened. Deepened. It stole my breath away. “You look like a drowned rat.”

  “Thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel pretty.”

  “That’s not my job.” His lids lowered, and if I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn he was admiring my tits. “I can clean your soul for you, though, if you’d like.”

  Only he could make such a statement sound so dirty.

  I turned away, because if I kept staring at him, I was going to melt into a puddle of fluid at his feet. “My soul is perfectly clean, thank you very much.”

  “Are you so sure about that?” he asked.

  “I might not be above unholy thoughts, and I might think about sex and boys a lot, but I’m allowed to have those thoughts in my head, unlike you.” I ran my tongue over the inner side of my lip ring. “Just like I’m allowed to have those boys in my bed, whenever and however I want them, if I so desire.”

  His grip on my hair tightened, tugging it just enough to sting a little. “Do you have lots of those?”

  “Thoughts?” I lifted my lashes. He was watching me as if…as if he wanted to be one of those men I thought about. Little did he know, he starred in almost all my fantasies. Even when I was with another guy, he was usually on my mind. “Or boys?”

  His jaw flexed, and he leaned in slightly. “Both.”

  “What’s it to you?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “There’s been thoughts. Lots of them. Some about boys I’ve had. Some about boys I wish I could have, but can’t.” I glanced at his mouth, but forced my attention upward again. “You know how that goes, though, I’m sure.”

  He studied me, his eyes burning with the heat of a thousand suns. “Why would you say that?”

  “Well, you can’t have sex.” I bit my lip. “Surely you have thoughts you can’t act upon once in a while. I mean, I know how much you enjoyed sex before….”

  “You never should have known that.”

  “Well, when you consistently have sex on the porch of my house…”

  He shook his head, not turning my way. “I’m sorry I did that. I was a different man back then. A boy.”

  “No need to apologize. I liked it. I used to love watching you light up a cigarette afterward. You’d be so calm. So relaxed…” While I’d been eaten up with jealousy because that girl wasn’t me. “Does that make my soul dirty and unclean?”

  He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  I pushed his dark hair off his face. It was damp from my splashing him, so it looked almost black against his tan complexion. He stiffened, his jaw hardening. “No. I guess not.” I lowered my hand, and he visibly relaxed. “Though I’d love to find out if you have dirty thoughts that tarnish your clean soul.”

  “Ladies first.” He cleared his throat. By this point, I was 99 percent certain that I wasn’t imagining the way he was watching me. It was as if he wanted to rip my shirt off and finally get this thing going, like I dreamed about almost every night. “What boys can’t you have? Seems like a girl as pretty as you could have anyone she wants—preferably one who doesn’t want to hit you when he drinks too much. I don’t think that’s aiming too high.”
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br />   I lifted a shoulder. “Some are…off-limits. You know?”

  Like you. Especially you.

  “Why?” he asked again. “Are they married? Because if so, you’d best back off. That’s a sin you don’t want on your soul.”

  “Why, Father Thorn, are you—?”

  “Still not a priest yet,” he said drily.

  I reached out and yanked on his white collar, ignoring his interruption. “Are you trying to wrangle a confession out of me? To cleanse me in more ways than one?”

  He tugged my head back until I was staring at the ceiling instead of him. “And if I was?”

  “Then you’re wasting your time. I don’t do things I’ll regret later.” A drop of water hit my lips, so I licked it away. “Of course, that doesn’t mean much, considering I don’t really have regrets. I’m not that kind of girl. If it’s fun and it makes me feel good, I do it. And I don’t sit there in the morning and wish I could take it back.”

  His fingers moved over my scalp, sending tingles down my spine and over my whole body. I’d been with a few men, and they’d made me feel good in bed—but they’d never made me feel like this. It made me wonder what it would feel like if Thorn wasn’t who he was, and if we were free to get naked and sweaty together.

  I bet I wouldn’t be able to walk for a week afterward.

  “Even if it’s wrong?” he asked quietly. His mouth was right next to my ear, so his hot breath washed over me, intensifying the desire curling in my belly. My nipples tightened, and my breath stuck in my throat. I gripped his shirt with my bad arm to balance myself, and brushed my nails across his hard chest. Is it even legal for a seminarian to be so damn fit? So irresistible? “Even if you know you shouldn’t do it?”

  “That only makes it even more fun,” I said, my voice breathy.

  “Is that so?”

  I fisted his shirt, tugging him a little bit closer. Not because I had nefarious intent, but because if I hadn’t my body might have given out on me. Being in his arms like this washed away all the bad thoughts, and made me feel like my whole body was pure jelly. “Of course. You have to agree with me. Like, that time you were fucking Grace Borrowton in Mikey’s room while her dad was downstairs getting drunk with mine. I bet that was exhilarating, wasn’t it?”

  He made a choked sound. “I don’t really remember. Like I said. Changed man.”

  “Yeah…” I bit my tongue and ran my hand up to his shoulder, gripping it. It was sturdier than his shirt—and God, I needed that right now. “Are you sure you’ve changed all that much?”

  “I haven’t had sex since I entered seminary school,” he said, his hands still massaging my scalp. I let his touch wash over me. “So, yeah. I’m pretty sure I’ve changed.”

  I ran my thumb over the smooth cotton of his shirt, wincing at the sharp jab of pain it caused in my wrist. “But do you think about it? Dream about it? Want it? Wake up with your hand down your pants?”

  He made a choking sound. “Rose.”

  “What? I’m just curious, is all.”

  “Those aren’t things you should ask a priest,” he said quietly.

  “Ah…” I lifted my lids. “But you keep telling me you’re not a priest yet.”

  He frowned, not saying anything.

  “Inquiring minds want to know,” I said to fill the silence. “And I answered your personal question. It’s only fair.”

  “I don’t—” He stopped massaging my scalp and reached across me to grab the shampoo. His forearm brushed across my hard nipples, and we both stiffened as a moan escaped me. Arm still extended, he turned to me, his lips parted. “Rose.”

  Slowly, oh so slowly, his gaze dipped down to my breasts. There was no doubting it this time. “Sorry. I can’t help it. You’re—well, you know. But we can stop. I’ll—”

  “Don’t move. Don’t you dare move.” He flexed his jaw, and he slowly lifted his gaze to mine. With his other hand, he smoothed my wet hair back from my face. His touch was strong. Steady. Addictive. “You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

  I swallowed back a groan, and for the first time all day, the pain that had been my constant companion since last night faded away. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

  “It’s so hard to pretend I don’t notice. You have no idea how hard it is.” He licked his lips and snaked his hand behind my neck, resting his fingers over my racing pulse as he leaned in closer. “I’m over it. Just one taste. That’s all I want.”

  It was like he was talking to himself instead of me. As if he was trying to talk himself into doing something. I parted my lips and whispered, “Thorn? What are you doing?”

  He froze, blinked a few times, and let go of me quicker than I bet that cop who’d been caught with a prostitute riding his dick in his car last week had let go of her. “Jesus. I’m sorry. Just…ignore that, please.”

  Ha. As if. I could pretend to ignore it, but I would never forget the way he’d looked at me—as if I was already his. And I was, even if he didn’t know it.

  God, I needed a cigarette now.

  “You did it again,” I said, swallowing a painful moan when he reached across me and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. This time, he made sure to steer clear of my nipples. I squeezed my thighs together, hoping to ease the ache he’d brought to life inside me. “Cursed—this time with the Lord’s name. I sense a mandatory confession coming on.”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed the shampoo and poured it into his palm. “Around you, I find myself slipping back into bad habits. Habits I’ll never be able to truly escape.”

  Like fucking women in backyards? “What kind of habits?”

  His hand was in my hair again and his jaw was set hard, and he didn’t even remotely resemble the man who had been about to kiss me moments before. Every movement he made was fast. Jerky. Unpredictable.

  And oh my God, he’d almost kissed me.

  What even was that?

  “The kind I should have sworn off years ago.”

  I played with my lip ring with my tongue, watching him watch me. A powerful headiness hit me, because he was looking at me like he wanted nothing more than to run his tongue over my piercing like I was. “Are you saying I’m a bad influence on you?”

  Slowly, his eyes left my mouth and slammed into mine. “And if I am?”

  “I don’t know.” I lifted a shoulder. “Whatever, I guess.”

  “That doesn’t bother you?” he asked gruffly, his fingers moving over my scalp.

  I lowered my lashes, because water and shampoo were flying in the air. “Honestly, I don’t believe in bad influences. No one is going to do something they didn’t already want to do. If you do something bad, it’s because you wanted to, not because someone ‘made’ you do it.”

  “So if I convinced you to kill the guy next door—?”

  “First of all, you wouldn’t do that. You’re too much of a Goody Two-shoes now.” I patted his shoulder comfortingly, even though the movement hurt my back. “But on the slight off chance that you aren’t, and you wanted the guy next door dead and asked me to help? Well, if I did, it would be because I wanted him dead, too. Not because you wanted me to want him dead.”

  “I’m not a Goody Two-shoes,” he growled, his hand leaving my scalp. He yanked my hair back with the perfect amount of pressure to send a shaft of desire downward to pool in my belly. “You have no idea who I am. What I’ve done. What I want to do.”

  “So tell me,” I said slowly, daring to glance at him through my lashes again. He was staring at me with so much heat I was seconds from ripping my shirt off and throwing myself into his arms. “What kind of guy are you?”

  “The kind who is washing his best friend’s little sister, and trying to remember who she is—and more important, who he is.” He leaned in, nose to nose. “The kind who knows why your nipples are hard, and why you keep pressing your thighs together, and is doing his best to pretend he doesn’t see it. Who wants to press you up against this wall and fuck you, hard, until you come so many times you can
’t possibly take any more of me moving inside of you.”

  Well, shit. Damn him for putting such vivid detail into my head like that. I wanted him to do those things, too. So badly. “Why pretend not to think about those things at all?” I fluttered my lashes at him and skimmed my finger down his chest. “Is it a sin to admire something God himself made?”

  “When I’m me, and you’re you, and I’m seconds from becoming a priest?” He caught my hand and trapped it against the tile. With his free hand, he grabbed the conditioner. “Yeah. It is.”

  “Why don’t you just do it, then? Take your vows?” I shut the world out again as he massaged the conditioner into my scalp, trying to turn off my body’s hyperawareness for him before I self-combusted. “You already graduated with a degree in education, and you said you’re ready. So what’s stopping you?”

  “Nothing’s ‘stopping’ me.” He threaded his fingers through my hair again, massaging the conditioner through the strands. His touch was magical. “I’m just waiting, that’s all.”

  My eyes snapped open. “Waiting for what?”

  “I don’t know.” He pushed me forward, his jaw tighter than before. Squeezing the excess moisture out of my hair, he let out a long breath. “I guess it’s like anything in life that’s this huge of a decision. Right before you commit yourself to something that will literally change your whole life and everything about it, you’ve got to pause and examine your choices. When you’re a priest, your entire life is about helping others, and thinking of everyone else before even taking a second to think about what’s good for you. It’s only natural to pause before committing to that. To wait for a sign that it’s the right path for you. I’m waiting for mine. We all get one.”

  “Oh.” Okay, I got that. It was like a bride having jitters before walking down the aisle. She might get nervous, but she still went. And so would he. “You still didn’t answer my question, though.”

  “Funny.” He cocked a brow, grabbed a washcloth, and squirted some soap on it. “I thought I just did.”

  “Not that one.” I eyed him nervously. “What are you doing?”

  “Washing the glitter and dirt off you.” He paused in midreach for my arm. “Yet another question answered. You’re full of them today.”