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Chapter Thirty-Four

Elias

Later that night, I was in the kitchen with Ronan, finishing up the poorly made pasta he had tried his best to make. Travis fell asleep, and his snores filled the room from the couch in the living room, which was a short distance from us.

The apartment was quieter than when I first got here, the hum of the city outside muffled by the thin walls. There was a lingering tension between us, a charged silence that had been building ever since we entered the apartment.

I sat on the couch, trying to make myself comfortable, but the room’s soft lights and the space’s warmth all made me feel too aware of Ronan, too aware of how he moved, the quiet energy he carried, even when he wasn’t speaking.

He was in the kitchen now, a glass of water in his hand, eyes flicking over his shoulder as he looked at me. His gaze lingered for a second longer than usual, and I felt a rush of heat crawl up my neck. I hadn’t realized just how much I was still drawn to him, how much I had buried beneath layers of duty, of what I had convinced myself was right.

The weight of the situation pressed on me, and I shifted uncomfortably on the opposite chair from Travis, my legs too long for the furniture, my mind too distracted by him.

By us.

“Water?” Ronan’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up at him, caught off guard. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that you won’t be shooting shots with me.”

He was holding a second glass in his hand. His eyes were unreadable, yet intense. I could see the outline of his shirt, how it clung to his frame, and the way his hands—those strong tattooed hands—wrapped around the glass.

I nodded, unable to find my voice for a moment, then cleared my throat.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

He handed me the glass, his fingers brushing mine. The brief contact sent a sharp jolt of electricity through me, and I had to swallow hard, trying to ignore the temptation that surged within me.

“You okay?” he said, sitting down beside me. His voice was quiet, but the concern in it made me ache.

I nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah, just tired, I guess. From last night…”

The truth was, I wasn’t tired. I was anything but tired. I was awake in a way I hadn’t been in a long time. And it wasn’t just because of the time. It was him.

Ronan’s presence had always been magnetic, but tonight, it felt like he was pulling me in with an intensity I wasn’t sure how to handle. After getting a taste of him in such a forbidden way, I wanted more.

I needed more.

I wanted to consume him the way he consumed me.

He was so close now, the heat from his body just a few inches away from mine, and I could hear the soft rustling of his breath, a rhythm that seemed to match my own heartbeat.

“You know you’re giving me ‘fuck me eyes,’ right?” he said, his voice dropping an octave. He reached over, his hand hovering near mine. “Don’t ask for what you can’t handle, Father Cross.”

I turned my head toward him, my breath catching in my throat. His face was softer now, the sharp edges of his usual expression replaced by something deeper, something almost vulnerable.

“I…” I started, but my words got tangled up in my chest.

He was close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint smell of cologne that mixed with the scent of his skin.

I could almost taste the space between us, the invisible barrier that kept us from crossing that line. But it was getting thinner with every second. The one we consistently tried to erect after our stolen moments, the one that erected again but became thinner and thinner.

“What do you need from me, Elias,” he murmured, his voice low, soothing. “And before you answer, keep in mind that Travis is asleep on the couch over there. But hey…I have no expectations. No judgment here.”

His words made everything inside me twist. No judgment was all I’d wanted for so long. But expectations—that was the dangerous part. The part where I would have to reckon with what I was really feeling. What we were both feeling.

His hand moved closer to mine, and I could feel the heat from his skin now, the tenderness in the way his fingers brushed against my knuckles. It was a touch so simple, so soft, yet it felt like a promise. A promise I wasn’t sure I could keep if I let myself follow through.

I swallowed, my voice tight. “Ronan, this isn’t… this isn’t a good idea. Travis could see something…something I…”

But even as I said it, the truth felt like it was slipping through my fingers. Because, deep down, I knew it was already too late.

Ronan’s eyes searched mine, intense and knowing.

“What are you afraid he will see, Mon Pur?”

His hand finally settled on mine, fingers wrapping around with a strength that felt like something more than just desire. It felt like the pull of fate. Or perhaps just the pull of our loneliness, our shared history.

“Are you asking me to give in to you? Or to pull away? Can we really pretend anymore? Even here.”

I wanted to respond. To tell him it was wrong to be so unholy here, in front of another. To remind him of who I was—the priest, the one who should know better. But the words didn’t come. Not when he was so close, not when I could feel the longing in his touch, in the way his thumb traced the back of my hand.

“Maybe Travis can learn a thing or two,” he whispered, leaning in just enough that I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin. “The way you fuuuck so damn good, Elias. I have never met anyone like you.”

The confession hit me like a wave. I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know what to say, because I felt the same. He was ungodly in the way he destroyed me. I needed him. I always needed him for longer than I’d been willing to admit.

But this? This was a line I hadn’t crossed. This was a line I shouldn’t cross.

And yet, as I looked at him, his face inches from mine, his breath mingling with mine, I felt the ability to care starting to unravel.

I closed my eyes, taking a shaky breath.

“We can’t do this,” I said again, this time more to myself than to him. “I can’t do this.”

Ronan’s thumb brushed over the back of my hand again, his voice barely a whisper. “But you want to. Don’t you? You want to fucking try to hold back your moans while I fuck you on this counter. You want to submit to me. You want to obey.”

The question hung in the air between us, a challenge, a plea, a desperate truth we both knew. My heart raced in my chest, and I could feel the tension building like it was going to snap any second.

The air was thick and heavy with the unsaid, and it felt like we were teetering on the edge of something we couldn’t undo.

Travis’s snores were audible, and I focused on the loud cadence and rhythm. I could time my moans to those lawnmower sounds…

No! What was I thinking? I had to stop this. It was one thing to enjoy Ronan in the safety of the shadows no one could see, but this?

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. And for one long moment, I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to because in that silence, I realized something.

Maybe I didn’t really want to stop.

I could feel the tension thick in the air, suffocating, almost overwhelming. Ronan’s hand was still wrapped around mine, his thumb tracing small, slow circles over my skin. His touch was gentle but insistent, like he was asking for something more, something I wasn’t sure I could give him, not without losing more of my sanity in the process.

I couldn’t lose control.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing, but the soft rhythm of his hand on mine was like a melody I couldn’t ignore. I wanted to pull away, to tell him that this was a mistake that I was a priest, Travis was too close to us, and he…

He was Ronan—someone who deserved someone whole, not someone twisted up with guilt and sin like I was. I couldn’t just enjoy Ronan in private. He deserved someone shouting to all the love they had for him.

But the words didn’t come.

Instead, I was silent, my eyes locked onto his, the world around us fading into nothing but the space we shared. I wanted him. I needed him.

That much was undeniable. And as much as I’d convinced myself I shouldn’t do this in front of Travis like this, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. Not when his gaze was so open, so raw, so full of desire that it mirrored everything I felt inside.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Elias,” Ronan whispered, his voice low and rough. The words sent a shiver down my spine, but it wasn’t fear. It was something else—something deep and consuming. “The war in your eyes as you decide whether to let me pull you deeper into hell. It’s intoxicating.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to find the strength to push him away, to remind myself of the vows I’d taken, the path I’d chosen. The vows I had already broken. The last slightest strand of no return to the world, knowing I was damned.

But then his face was so close, his breath warm against my lips, and I welcomed his darkness, begging to be corrupted until all I knew was Ronan.

I leaned in slightly, my own lips just a breath away from his.

“Ronan…we can’t if Travis woke up to us…we can’t. Not this time,” I said again, but it was weaker this time, my voice barely a whisper.

I knew it was a lie. I knew I was seconds away from giving in. Ronan’s hand slid to the side of my neck, his thumb brushing over my pulse.

“I don’t fucking care about Travis. I want you. Let him tell people. I will fuck you at your congregation to claim my love for you if only you’d let me,” he murmured.

His lips brushed against mine in a feather-light touch, and it felt like an invitation—a permission. His voice was thick with desire.

“I’ve touched you already, Elias. I have felt how you taste when you’re filled with my sin. I want more. I need more.”

I could feel the pulse in my neck quickening and my heart racing in my chest. Everything in me was screaming that I shouldn’t, that I had to walk away before this became something I couldn’t undo.

But then his lips brushed against mine again, this time a little firmer and bolder. And I felt myself leaning into him, my own hand finding its way to the front of his shirt, fingers trembling as they brushed against the fabric.

For a second, I hesitated. I pulled back just enough to look at him, to make sure he understood what this could mean. My heart was beating so fast that I could hear the thrum in my ears.

“I’m not… I’m not a man you can just have, Ronan,” I said quietly, my voice strained, trying to make him understand, even though I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. Not really. “I can’t be that guy that holds your hand in a restaurant. If people knew what I’ve done…”

Ronan’s eyes softened, and I saw something in them—something deeper than desire. He wasn’t just looking at me with lust. There was care and that love that burned the brightest in how he gazed at me.

“I don’t want to take you away from what you’ve chosen, Elias,” he said, his voice quieter now but still intense. “I know this has consequences, but I will bear them. Please. I just want you. The whole you. The parts you keep hidden from others. The parts I have seen such small glimpses of. I’m not asking for anything more than that. Just you.”

I closed my eyes, my breath shallow. I wanted him. God, I wanted him more than I’d wanted anything in a long time.

But there were boundaries, and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to keep them in place anymore. The way Ronan looked at me was so unguarded and open. It was too much.

I could feel myself slipping. My hands were on him now, tracing the lines of his chest and his shoulders as if remembering every sinful touch I shared with him. And when he leaned in again, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was slow and tentative at first, it was like everything in me broke apart.

I kissed him back. It wasn’t a decision. it was a response, a need. His hands moved to my face, cupping it gently, and I could feel his heart beating against my chest, matching my own rhythm. The kiss deepened, and the tension between us ignited into something more, something urgent, desperate.

But even as I kissed him, part of me was still fighting, still screaming in my mind that this was wrong—that this was a sin I would have to face one day. Travis’s snores were loud enough to block out our soft moans, but for how long? In this moment, in his arms, everything else faded away.

I wasn’t thinking about my vows. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. I was thinking about him—the man who had stayed with me through all my darkness and shown me a tenderness I’d never thought I’d experience.

And I realized maybe this wasn’t about guilt. Maybe it was about wanting something that was real. That was why I gave in all the time before.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my forehead resting against his.

“Ronan… I don’t know what this means. If he tells people about what we are,” I whispered, my hands still resting on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath.

“It means we mean something,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It means that whatever happens, You are not alone anymore. That I have you.”

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure if I cared about the consequences. All I knew was that I didn’t want to lose this. I didn’t want to lose him, even if it meant stepping into the unknown. Even if it meant Travis forced my hand to do what I knew was right.

His lips met mine again, and I knew there was no going back.

I was lost in him—lost in the feeling of Ronan’s lips on mine, the warmth of his body pressing against me, the urgency in the way he kissed me as if he needed this as much as I did.

The room outside seemed to disappear, and Travis with it, like there was nothing left but this moment, this connection between us that felt so right even though I knew it shouldn’t.

I was a priest.

I had spent years studying scripture, living a life of discipline and self-control. I had sworn vows to God, to my faith, to a path that was supposed to guide me away from temptation, away from this.

But Ronan wasn’t just any temptation. He was the one constant I couldn’t escape in my life—I didn’t want to escape. He was part of me, part of my heart, my soul. He was what made me the man I am. Not my vows. Him.

His hands slid beneath my shirt, pulling me closer and showing me I belonged to him in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

His fingers brushed across the bare skin of my back, sending a shiver through me. I responded by wrapping my arms around him, holding him tighter, and letting the warmth of his body seep into mine.

It felt so natural, so right.

And yet, I knew it wasn’t. Not for me, not for who I was.

I pulled away just slightly, my lips lingering on his for a second, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“Ronan…” My voice cracked, my throat dry, the sounds of those damn snores growing in intensity with our heavy breaths. “This is a mistake.”

The words felt foreign on my tongue. The last thing I wanted was to pull away from him, but my mind was screaming at me to stop. I didn’t know if it was guilt or fear of what we were about to do, but I couldn’t ignore the voice inside me any longer. Not so open. Not when I felt so exposed.

Ronan’s hands paused, his thumb gently brushing my cheek as he looked into my eyes. There was no judgment in his gaze, only understanding.

“Elias, it’s not a mistake,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s not a sin to be free. To love someone. To love me.”

I shook my head, my grip tightening on him as I fought to make sense of everything. My heart was pulling me one way while my mind was pushing me the other. I could feel the pull between us like gravity, but my duty—my vows—had always been my anchor. Without that, who was I? It took one second for Travis to wake up and ruin everything I knew.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I can’t just… I can’t just forget everything I’ve built. I know I’m a hypocrite. I don’t regret everything we have done. But this? Right now? I can’t come back from this, and that scares me. I don’t know who I am without…”

Ronan’s hands slid to my shoulders, gently coaxing me to meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to forget who you are, Elias. I don’t want to take your right as a priest away from you. I just want you to see that you deserve something more than guilt. More than shame.

You deserve to feel good. To feel alive . What is living that life if you can only pretend? You pushed me away for so long, pretending you didn’t have feelings for me, and now you’re going to pretend again just to wear those robes?”

His words struck a chord deep inside me. For so long, I had told myself that I had to suppress my desires, that I couldn’t allow myself to experience something like this, not when it could lead me down a path I couldn’t come back from, a path to him.

But as I stood there with Ronan, feeling the heat of his touch, the sincerity in his voice, I started to wonder if I was lying to myself. How could I lie to everyone else? Was I even truly a man of god anymore?

“I don’t want to lose you,” I said quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt a vulnerability I wasn’t used to.

“You won’t lose me,” Ronan replied, his voice soft but sure. “I’m not going anywhere. But you have to stop running. Just let yourself fucking feel for once. What do you want?”

I felt his lips graze mine again, gentle but insistent as if reminding me that he was here. That this was real, and then I realized something. Maybe I was the one running. Maybe I had been too afraid of the emotions I couldn’t control, too afraid to let myself feel something outside the rigid boundaries I’d set for myself.

The kiss deepened, and all the doubts that had been clouding my mind seemed to fade away. In Ronan’s arms, there was no judgment, no expectations—just raw, unguarded emotion. Just a man who had been through hell and still wanted to be with me despite everything.

I kissed him back with more urgency this time, hands moving to his chest, feeling his heart’s solid, reassuring beat beneath my palms. The world outside the apartment no longer mattered. The noise of Vegas, Travis, and my life felt distant as if it were happening to someone else.

I allowed myself to forget who I was supposed to be. I allowed myself to be here with him. Shut off that part of me that clung to the collar and surrendered to him.

“Elias…” Ronan murmured, his hands moving to my waist, pulling me closer.

“Ronan,” I whispered, my breath shallow, “I need you. I want you. I will figure out what this means for me later…but right now. Just get me out of my head.”

And with that, everything shifted. The last shred of my hesitation crumbled away. I wasn’t the priest at that moment. I was a fucking man. A man who wanted him needed him in all the ways I had yet to have him.

Ronan’s hands slid up to my back, pulling me closer as his lips moved to my neck, sending a wave of warmth through my body. Every touch felt electric, every kiss a promise. I could feel the weight of his desire pressing against me, matching the thundering of my own heart.

For once, there were no more questions, no humming guilt residing in the back of my mind. There was only me and him.

Ronan Saint Clare and Elias Cross.