Page 44 of Forgive Me Father

"Confess," I snap, feeding into the pain from his touch. "Confess your sins to me, Father Briar."

He lets go of my hair and I see his jaw tighten, the muscles flexing just beneath his skin.

"Take off the robe, Eden," He growls.

I shake my head, and his hand moves to my ass.

Unaware that the skin there is still sensitive, he delivers it a harsh slap, my body slumping forward into him as I hide a sob.

He moves his lips to my ear. “I said take it off. Right. Fucking. Now.”

I lean back to glare at him as I fumble with the material. Growing impatient, he reaches down between us and tugs at the rope around my waist, slipping it off and tossing it to the floor. “Thanks for the help,” I say dryly.

Leaning back in the chair, he looks satisfied.

"My pleasure. Now take it off."

It feels as if every celestial eye is upon me, the weight of unseen judgment heavy in the air. My cheeks burn with a deep flush as my fingers nervously toy with the hem of my robe. Slowly, I reach down to the bunched fabric in my lap and drag thematerial up my body and over my head, exposing my skin to the warm, dim light. The robe finally slips from my grasp, cascading to the floor, leaving me standing there, vulnerable and exposed, the anticipation thickening with every breath I take.

Bared before him, in nothing but my undergarments, Roman takes all of me in, his hands trailing up my sides before running down my front.

"Black lace?"

I could feel the words forming on my tongue, sharp and cutting, designed to slip right under his skin. He had no idea what was coming, but I was about to make sure he felt every ounce of the sting.

“I thought Luca might like to see it later tonight.”

Roman’s eyes widen, sparks of rage flicker in his dilated pupils. He jerks me closer until my breasts are flush with his chest, my knees hitting the back of the chair.

“He won’t see a fucking thing, Eden. If you let him touch you –”

“Why do you care? Maybe I want him to touch me.”

He bares his teeth, hissing out his response.

“Why do I care?” He almost growls. “Because every time I see you, it’s like you’re pulling me further away from everything I’ve sworn to uphold. You make me question everything—my vows, my dedication, even my faith. I crave you in ways I’m not supposed to, and it’s driving me mad. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you, because, God help me, I want you for myself, despite everything I’ve been taught, despite everything I believe. You’ve gotten under my skin, and now I can’t get you out, no matter how hard I try.” My breath catches as hisconfession sinks in. My heart pounds in my chest, the tension between us palpable, electrifying. My eyes flicker down to his hand, resting on my thigh, and there it is—the ring. A simple band of gold, worn smooth from years of devotion, a constant reminder of the vows he’s taken. The same ring I thought was a wedding band when we first met. It gleams softly in the dim light, symbolizing everything he’s dedicated his life to—everything that stands between us.

I reach out, my hand hovering just above his, my fingers trembling as they brush against the ring. Slowly, deliberately, I trace the band with my fingertip, feeling the weight of what it represents and the intensity of the moment. Our eyes lock, and the room seems to shrink around us, the world narrowing down to just this—the tension, the longing, and the unspoken promise of what might come next.

“Is this what’s holding you back?” I whisper, my voice barely audible, laced with desire. The ring feels like a barrier, but as I glance back into his eyes, I see the crack in his resolve, the part of him that wants to forget it all, if only for a moment.

"Take it off," I mutter. “And touch me.”

"Eden-"

"Your demons want me, Father?" I tap the ring. "Then take off the ring...and sin. You can ask for forgiveness later.”

His eyes meet mine, searching for something— reassurance, maybe absolution. But all I offer him is the intensity of my gaze, the silent understanding that this moment could change everything.

Slowly, deliberately, he begins to slide the ring off his finger. It’s not a quick motion; it’s hesitant, almost reverent as if he’speeling away a layer of his soul. The ring slips off, and for a moment, it rests in his palm, heavy with the weight of what it means. His eyes darken, the last vestige of resistance melting away as he places the ring on the arm of the chair, the sound of metal against wood echoing in the stillness.

His hand, now bare, finds its way back to my thigh, and this time, there’s nothing holding him back. The touch is different now—bolder, more assured. It’s as if the removal of that ring has unleashed something within him, something raw and powerful.

He pulls me closer, his fingers digging into my skin with a newfound intensity, his breath hot against my neck. There’s no more hesitation, no more barriers. His eyes devour me as I grind my nearly naked body against him, craving the friction.

A sense of euphoria pulses through me, the light that filters through the stained-glass windows casting a rainbow of colors that dance along my flesh.

Roman’s body is tense as he groans, resisting the urge to thrust his hips into me.