Sweetest Sin: A Forbidden Priest Romance by Sosie Frost

shouldn’t speak with you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because, right
now? What I need most is for you to be just a priest again.”
    The implication
stung. I gritted my teeth. “I am a priest, Honor.”
    She shifted.
Awkward. Frightened?
    “I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to insinuate…” She shook her head. “After what happened between us,
I’m not sure what to think.”
    “It was just a mistake.”
    “I don’t believe
that. Mistakes are accidental. This was…”
    She quieted and
clutched her phone. I practically felt her prayer. She must have begged for a
text or call to buzz the iPhone so she’d have an excuse to run.
    “I shouldn’t be
here,” she said. “I can’t be with you, Father. We can’t pretend this is innocent
now.”
    And I doubted it’d
ever be innocent again.
    But Honor needed
me. No one in my congregation deserved to be without hope.
    I folded my hands,
catching the beads of my rosaries between my fingers. “Do you know…I’ve been
with this parish for three years?”
    She wasn’t ready
for this impromptu lesson. I’d deliver it anyway.
    “During my time
here, I’ve organized new groups. I’ve led prayers. I’ve helped with the
charities.” I gestured to the hall, back to the women’s group. “For three
years, I’ve tried to lead this congregation and introduce to them a sense of
community and selflessness and faith.”
    “So I’ve heard.”
    She must have
recognized the fatigue in my voice. Not surrender, but certainly not
optimism. I sighed. “Do you know what I learned, after all those hours and
plans and dreams for this parish?”
    Honor shrugged.
“That…you could lead a horse to holy water, but…”
    “Exactly.” I
smiled. “I wanted this congregation to examine themselves—to find reason in
their faith as well as their failings. Even the women’s group has spent weeks
reading and debating and researching every unique way they can serve the
church. Leadership, the ideals of femininity, rectifying church misogyny,
motherhood, healing, teaching, education, charity…”
    “It’s noble,” she
said.
    “Maybe. For three
years, I believed I was a positive influence on this church.”
    “You don’t think
you’re doing a good job?”
    Not anymore. “I
failed. Momentarily, I assure you. I don’t tolerate failure in myself.”
    “But you haven’t
failed, Father.”
    “Of course I have.
I’ve preached values and I’ve warned of vices, but I learned something in these
past few days.” I held her gaze. “I haven’t instilled a sense of humility in
my flock.”
    “I know what
you’re trying to do,” she warned. “Please. Don’t try to comfort me.”
    “No one is alone
in this world, my angel.”
    “Father—”
    “No one is without
sin, just as no one is unforgiveable. You do not suffer from temptations now,
but an excess of pride. Everyone sins, and I won’t allow any of my flock
to doubt themselves or their worth. No matter the cause.”
    Even if it was my
own doing.
    I gestured to the
pew. Honor hesitantly sat, her fingers tapping the wooden bench. Even in
uncertainty, this woman embodied innocence, elegance, and gentleness. She swept
her hair from her face, and a slight, grateful smile graced her lips.
    It was enough to
damn me.
    I wanted this
woman. To touch. To protect.
    To possess.
    The cassock
covered most of me, but I wasn’t comfortable standing before this angelic woman
with her almond eyes and honey-sweet lips.
    She’d ruin me. At
least if my heart stopped, if it finally ceased its rapid punishment against my
chest, my final moments would be blessed by her beauty.
    “May I sit?” I asked.
    Neither of us knew
which answer was right. Refusing would admit prior guilt. Accepting would
welcome new.
    She nodded.
    I sat, placing an
imaginary Bible length between us. Her hands pressed against the wooden bench.
Flat. Still trembling.
    Little novice.
When confronted with sin, it was best to wield a weapon. I carried rosaries.
    If only I might
have felt