Page 5 of Forgive Me, Father

Four

Olivia

“This way, please.” The kind woman who sat with me in the hotel suite while my auction took place opens the door and gestures for me to follow her.

I’m shaking. My heart is pounding. I might throw up.

What have I done?

I’ve made enough money to save Alessandro, but now I have to go through with…with…

You can do this. It’s just sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’ll be over in less than an hour.

I swallow, my mouth dry, and clutch my long coat tightly around myself as I rise from the chair.

This whole ordeal is almost over. I made it through the humiliating exam to verify that I was actually a virgin.

I passed all of the health checks. The money from the auction—minus the site’s cut, of course—will be in my account by tomorrow morning.

By this time tomorrow, Alessandro’s debts will be cleared.

It’s a small price to pay to keep my brother from getting killed by the mafia. What’s virginity but a social construct, anyway? It doesn’t matter. None of this matters, beyond doing what I need to do for my family.

I keep telling myself that, my stomach a hollow cavern inside me as I follow the woman to the elevator. She pushes the button, and we wait in silence until the doors slide open.

The elevator car is sleek, with mirrored walls that don’t allow me to hide from my pale, wide-eyed reflection. This is the kind of hotel I could never afford on my own. Shame I won’t get to truly enjoy it.

We ride the elevator in silence, and a part of me wonders what would happen if I just left. If I made a run for it. Probably nothing, but the money wouldn’t be in my bank account in the morning, and I’d be left facing the same problem.

I take a deep breath. Nausea churns my stomach. My heart pounds like a drum in my chest. I watch as the lighted numbers on the panel climb higher and higher. My stomach swirls sickly, my mouth watering, and I swallow. I try to steady my breathing, try to stop my hands from shaking, but it’s no use.

I’m a mess of nerves and fear.

Why did I think I could do this? I’ve never even kissed a man before, never mind doing…

The elevator chimes softly, and the doors slide open on the twenty-second floor.

I force myself to step out, my legs wobbling beneath me.

The hallway stretches out, endless and daunting.

All I see is cream and gold patterned carpet, white doors, and dim lighting.

My vision swims momentarily, and I blink.

“Room 2212,” says the woman, who remains in the elevator. “He’ll be expecting you.” She smiles kindly, and then the doors start to slide shut.

I could leave. No one is forcing me to stay. I could walk out into the night and not look back.

And then Alessandro might be dead.

I suck in a shuddering breath and start heading toward room 2212, my legs heavy.

I fiddle with the belt of my coat, my palms slick with sweat.

I can’t stop the shaking in my hands, the quiver in my steps.

This is it. There’s no turning back now.

I approach the room, the black numbers stark and cold against the white of the door.

I take a deep breath, trying to summon some semblance of courage.

Or maybe the man on the other side of this door will like it if I’m trembling and afraid. After all, what kind of man buys a virgin? The kind who gets off on a nervous, inexperienced girl, right?

Taking one more deep breath, I raise my trembling hand and knock softly on the door.

The sound echoes through the silence of the hallway, and for a beat, I wonder if I’ve got the wrong room.

But then I hear shuffling on the other side of the door, muffled, heavy footsteps that make my heart jump into my throat.

I clench my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. I can’t stop shaking.

I feel like everything drops into slow motion as I watch the handle turn and the door start to swing open.

No.

I stand there, frozen, my heart hammering wildly.

Father Thorne is here, in this hotel room, looking at me with an intensity that makes it impossible for me to breathe.

He’s in jeans and a dark blue T-shirt that stretches tight across his shoulders and chest, giving me a glimpse of the outline of his pecs.

No collar. No priestly clothes. His hair is a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

“Father Thorne?” I manage to squeak out. My cheeks are hot, humiliation at him seeing me here, like this, flooding me.

He nods but doesn’t say anything, his blue eyes never leaving mine.

“You…” I have to swallow and lick my lips to keep my mouth moving. “You bought me?” I don’t know what else to say.

“I couldn’t let it be anyone else,” he says, his voice low and rough in a way I’ve never heard before. It makes me shiver in a way I don’t quite understand.

Silence hangs heavy between us. Shock roots me to the spot. Heat rushes through me, and I’m not sure why. Is this shame? It doesn’t feel like shame. I can’t catch my breath. I feel like I’m wearing a tight corset despite the fact that I have very little on beneath this coat.

The tension pulsing in the air is like a living thing, wrapping around us. I feel magnetized to him. I take a step back, and I feel the pull, so I step forward. I’m in the room now, the door clicking shut behind me.

I’m alone with Father Thorne in a hotel room. Father Thorne, who just technically bought my virginity.

The one man I’d willingly give it to.

He stands there, still staring, an unreadable expression on his face.

“But…why?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I don’t understand anything that’s happening right now. How did he find the auction site? Why is he doing this?

He takes a step closer. “I had no choice, Olivia.” He clenches and unclenches his hands at his sides, as though fighting against himself.

Does…does he want to touch me?

“I can’t…I don’t understand.” I shake my head, biting my lip, twisting my hands together. My mind is swirling, a chaotic riot of thought and emotion that disorients me.

He takes another step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I couldn’t let anyone else have you. Not like this.”

I stand there, stunned. I have no words.

I have nothing except the relentless throb of my pulse in my ears.

Heat gathers between my thighs at being this close to Father Thorne, at the intensity in his eyes.

He doesn’t look like a priest right now.

He looks like a man. A ruggedly handsome man who makes me want to do unholy things with him.

I’m shaking, but it’s not from fear anymore. It’s from something else, something I’ve never felt before. Never experienced.

“The money is yours,” he says roughly. “We don’t…

” He clears his throat and shakes his head, scrubbing a hand over his face.

He looks tormented. “I couldn’t let you give yourself to a stranger.

” He steps back and starts pacing, running a hand through his hair.

I follow him deeper into the room, legs shaking, heart pounding, breath hitching.

“But…why? I don’t understand,” I manage to say. My voice is high, breathy. I don’t sound like myself, which makes sense, because I don’t feel like myself.

He turns to look at me, and when he does, his eyes are filled with so much desperation that it knocks the breath out of me. “Because I felt sick at the thought of someone else touching you, angel.”

I swallow hard, trying to process what he’s saying. He just called me angel again. “So you did this…because it was wrong? Or…did you do this to own me?”

He shakes his head, looking completely distraught.

“No. I did this to save you. But I can’t pretend that my motives are selfless.

” He paces back towards me, stopping only inches away.

I can feel the warmth from his skin. I can smell a hint of cologne.

I pulse between my legs again. “I want you, Olivia,” he says, his voice low and intense.

“I have from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

My breath stutters in my chest as my clit pulses, wetness gathering in my panties at his admission. I’m suddenly painfully turned on, my nipples hard and achy, heat pulsing low in my belly. Father Thorne couldn’t let anyone else have me because he wants me.

Father Thorne couldn’t let anyone else have me because he wants me .

I keep repeating it to myself, trying to wrap my head around it. My mind spins. I feel completely detached from reality.

But it’s real. I’m actually in a hotel room with the man I’ve been fantasizing about for a year. The man I’m in love with. And he’s telling me that he’s wanted me all this time, too.

“But you’re a priest,” I say, the words quiet and tremulous, like I’m telling a secret, not stating a fact. My heart hammers against my ribs. My brain feels disconnected from my body. My thoughts are a whirlwind. I am nothing but confusion, disbelief, and hope.

Father Thorne’s jaw clenches, and a muscle jumps in his cheek. He takes a step closer, his blue eyes intense and stormy. “I am,” he agrees, his voice taking on a gritty tone that turns my insides to mush. “But I’m also a man, Olivia. A man who’s completely obsessed with you.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. Heat pools in my belly, spreading through me like wildfire. Father Thorne is obsessed with me?

What?

I must be hallucinating. The stress of this entire situation has finally gotten to me and my brain is showing me what I want to see so that I don’t break down completely.

But then I meet his gaze, and I know it’s real. All of this is real, somehow. I can’t look away from his gorgeous blue eyes. I feel like I’m under his spell. His willing captive.

“You can’t…we can’t…” I say, my voice shaking.

He reaches up, cupping my cheek. He’s never touched my skin before, and I suddenly feel electrified. Vibrating, humming with energy. With want. With a need I don’t fully understand. His touch is gentle, yet firm, his fingers warm and strong as he caresses my skin.

“I know,” he murmurs, thumb moving over my cheek.

He’s staring at where he’s touching me, as though he’s feeling the same electricity, the same hypnotic desire that I am.

“I’ve fought against this, angel. I’ve prayed for strength, for guidance.

But I can’t deny it anymore. I want you.

I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life. ”

His words make me shiver as my heart beats hard and fast, as my pulse throbs in my clit. I’m scared. I’m excited. I’m turned on. I lean into his touch before I even realize I’m going to do it. It should feel wrong, but it doesn’t.

Everything about Father Thorne has always felt so incredibly right.

“I want you, too. More than anything. Since I first saw you, I’ve wanted…” I lick my lips. My heart is beating so hard and so fast that it’s hard to talk.

Father Thorne’s eyes darken, the black of his pupils obscuring the piercing blue. He leans in, so close that I can feel his breath on my lips.

My heart is going wild. I’m shaking with anticipation. Is he going to kiss me?

“I shouldn’t,” he rasps, gaze flicking back and forth between my eyes and my lips. “We shouldn’t.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“Fuck,” he says, and then his lips brush against mine, soft and gentle. The air seems to crackle with electricity around us, and I feel like I’m about to combust just from that gentle, brushing contact. I sway closer and reach up to fist his shirt.

He pulls back slightly, his gaze meeting mine.

And then he’s kissing me again, a real kiss this time, with parted mouths and sighing breaths.

His arms slide around me, holding me tight against him.

My breasts ache, my spine arches, and I’m soaking my panties at the feeling of his mouth against mine.

I’m tingling and pulsing. I’m coming undone.

I’ve imagined what it would be like to kiss Father Thorne so many times, and I see now that my imagination fell woefully short of the reality.

He groans and kisses me deeper, his tongue slipping into my mouth.

My toes curl at the feeling of his tongue sliding against mine.

He explores my mouth as though he’s determined to learn every inch of me.

I melt into him as he kisses me and kisses me.

I ache in a way I’ve never experienced before.

I’m drenching my panties, squirming as I do my best to kiss him back.

His hands roam over my back, my hips, my waist, leaving hot tingles in the wake of his touch.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to mine. His breathing is ragged, his eyes wild. “Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough.

“You bought me, Father Thorne. Don’t you want what you paid for?”