Billionaire’s Sins by L. Steele

14

Edward

She watches me with those big green eyes that seem to have swallowed up her face. Her features are drawn, there are shadows under her eyes, and her cheekbones seem too prominent. Has she lost weight since I last saw her? I frown, take a step toward her, then stop. What are you going to do? Are you going to go back to her? Sit next to her, take her hand in yours, place your palm against her cheek and feel the softness of her skin, draw in the sweet scent of jasmine that clings to her hair? I clasp my hands behind my back, then begin to pace. Back, forth, back.

She clears her throat, "Edward?"

I continue to pace.

"Ed? Please stop, you’re making me dizzy."

I pause, then pivot around and stalk over to her. I stand over her, rake my gaze down her face. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I snap. "You walked out onto that road without a modicum of self-preservation. What were you thinking, Ava?"

She pales further. Her lips tremble, and she presses them together.

"Edward, I, I…"

I hold up a hand, "No, don’t tell me. You came here to get my attention, didn’t you? You decided that since I wasn’t interested in you, you’d try a different tactic this time? You walked out there, knowing I would come after you and save you. Well, guess what? I won’t be there every time, Ava. The next time you try something so completely stupid, I may not be around to help."

Anger twists my guts; the band around my chest tightens. My knees tremble, and I squat down to disguise just how unable my legs are to support my weight right now.

"What do you have to say for yourself, huh? Do you deny that you purposely placed yourself in the path of that bloody car?"

She blinks. "Wow, that’s twice."

"Twice what?"

"Twice that you swore in the last two minutes."

I drag my fingers through my hair. "Is that all you registered from what I told you?"

"Umm, no. You also mentioned that you’re not interested in me, and that’s incorrect."

I glare at her. "And what else?"

"That I placed myself in the path of that bloody vehicle—"

Anger thuds at my temples. If anything had happened to her... If she’d been hit... If she’d been hurt, or worse… What would I have done? Not all the prayers in the world would have brought her back then.

I glare at her and she swallows. "I didn’t, Edward. I didn’t step in front of that car on purpose. It was an accident. I told you so already."

Of course, I know that. Ava’s artistic and sometimes preoccupied with her thoughts. That doesn’t mean she’s going to willfully put herself in the path of harm… I’d followed her out of the church, my feet seeming to have a will of their own, but had stopped myself from going to her. Then, I’d seen her pitch forward, that car speeding toward her… I’d lost it. I’d raced for her, had not even been aware how my feet had touched the ground. I’d reached her, pulled her up out of harm’s way and then… I couldn’t let go of her. I can’t let go of her. I must. I have to. But what if I can’t? What then?

"Edward?" She places her palm against my cheek, "Look at me, Ed."

"Ava." I swallow down the ball of emotion that clogs my throat. "Ava." I turn my face into her palm and kiss it, the softness of her skin, a caress. She cups my cheek, turns my face toward her.

I stare into those green eyes, the eyes of an angel, the gaze of a temptress, the fire that burns in them, my fate.

I rub my thumb across her lower lip. She flicks out her tongue and licks it. The blood empties to my groin and all of my senses focus on her. I lean in, capture her mouth with mine.

She parts her lips and I sweep my tongue inside, swipe it across her teeth, suck on her tongue, press my lips to hers, tilt my head and deepen the kiss.

She moans low in her throat and the sound sweeps through my mind. My muscles tense; my belly hardens. I tear my mouth from hers, peer into her face.

I can’t do this.

You must.

I can’t betray my faith.

You have no choice.

Is this Your way of testing me again, my Lord? Is this how You take me to the edge, only to thrust me over and over again into the path of this sin? Do You want me to embrace it? Is that why You’d put her in the path of danger? To show me just how powerless I am in front of Your will?

I’d thought myself infallible…untouchable, unapproachable; getting closer to the perfection that is You…and that was my mistake. So much ego, so much self-confidence, so much conviction in myself... When all along, I had been setting myself up for a fall. I see the error of my ways now, my Lord. I understand the mistake I’ve made all along. To think I could even attempt to be like You when, really, I am nothing but the dust on Your feet. I’ve spent all of my life trying to come closer to my ideal of perfection, to come closer to You, when really any attempt at thinking that I could be infallible is wrong.

I am, but human and prone to temptation. I may be Your vessel, but my flesh and blood still belong to that of a man. A man driven by his compulsion, the need to be close to her, to take her, embrace her, be with her in all the ways that a man can with a woman.

Will You forgive me, my Lord, if I sin?

Can I forgive myself if I do?

What am I if I do?

What am I if not my vows, the ability to hold onto my control, to resist every single temptation thrown in my path? The money has never been of consequence to me. No other woman has ever enticed me like this. As for obedience… What is Your will for me, my Lord? Did You put her in my path because You want me to fail?

Do You not want me in Your fold anymore? Am I not a vessel for Your Presence? Do You not want me to serve others in Your name? Is this my time to leave, to find out what lies in store for me outside of Your home?

My heart begins to thud in my chest. My pulse pounds at my temples. Sweat beads my forehead. I hold her gaze, and perhaps some of my inner turmoil shows, for she pales. I rise to my feet, turn to leave, and she grabs my hand.

"Wait, Father, will you not hear my confession before you leave?"

I frown. "You’re not Catholic."

"I can still confess, right?"

"So, you’re willing to share your secrets with me?"

She nods.

I scowl. "And what if I use it against you?"

"But you won’t." She sits up. Her color is better, her gaze clear. "You’ll listen and you’ll forgive without judgement because that’s what you do, Father."

"You have so much faith in me?"

"Not in you, but in your faith," she replies. "I know when it comes to your profession, you’d never compromise."

"So much trust." I roll my shoulders. "What if I don’t live up to it?"

"But you will." She rises to her feet and the blanket falls away. Don’t look there, don’t. I take in the curve of her bust, her nipples pointed and outlined against the fabric of her dress. That familiar ache that has become an ever-present sensation since I first saw her intensifies. My groin hardens. I pivot, walk to the door, when she asks, "Don't you need your outfit?"

I turn and she points to where I've draped the frock over a chair. "Your robe, Father," she prompts me.

I stare at the robe then back at her. "I don’t need it to hear your confession. As long as I am ordained—and I am—that is enough."

I head for the door, then pause and glance at her over my shoulder, "Coming?"