Thorne.
In that charged moment, with her standing so close—tears still glistening on her lashes, body heat radiating like a fever I couldn’t shake—the only thought pounding through my skull was getting her on her knees.
My c**k strained against the heavy fabric of my cassock, throbbing with raw urgency, demanding relief. It wasn’t tenderness I craved.
Not now. Not when her confessions of deeper emotions hung between us like a noose I refused to slip around my own neck.
God, those lips of hers… plump, trembling, painted with that innocent gloss that always made me imagine them stretched tight around me.
From the first glance, back when she was just another face in the pews, I’d fantasized about claiming them.
And I had.
That initial confession booth encounter, where I’d coaxed h
