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Authors: Sosie Frost
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possibly help?”
“How could it
hurt?” I gestured to the chapel. “This should be the place where we come to
seek strength and comfort.”
“And what if we
destroy it?”
I wouldn’t let her
speak of her soul in such a way. It pained me, just as it hurt her.
“I spoke with my
mentor today…Bishop Polito.” I didn’t say where I visited him or why I had gone.
“He warned me not to get trapped within my own thoughts. We can’t internalize
our problems. We must find a way to redeem ourselves. We are alone in our sins,
and that is why we’re suffering. To end it, we must stay together. You will
become more involved in the church.”
“It’s a bad idea,
Father. I won’t be forgiven because I’ll sing in the choir or help in the
festival.”
“Absolution is
mine to give. This is a chance to heal your spirit. You can give of yourself to
understand what has happened.”
She shook her
head. “And what about us?”
“We fight how we
feel. We forgive our transgressions. And if we are tempted…”
“ When we
are tempted, Father,” she said. “It is not a matter of if . It’s when … how .
I can’t trust myself around you.”
Trust.
A strange word.
I trusted nothing of
temptation. Not what darkened my mind, beat my heart, or hardened the part of
me pressing against the trousers under my robe. I tried to hide everything that
stained my soul, but my thoughts still shattered with wicked images and fantasies.
But if I wanted to
help Honor, I’d have to trust that I was strong enough to resist.
Because I could
only protect her if she stayed close.
If she wasn’t lost
already.
If I wasn’t
lost already.
“ Better is open
rebuke than hidden love , Proverbs 27:5,” I said. “We’ll hold ourselves
accountable. Protect each other.”
“Is it possible?”
Honor lowered her voice. She approached me, her hesitating steps a challenge to
my restraint. “I want to be holy, Father. And pure. And blessed …”
Her hips swayed.
Her blouse was buttoned
high, but the strain of the white material caressed the swell of her chest.
She breathed sweet
questions of innocence and lust between parted lips.
My angel offered
her salvation, damnation, and body for me. And tasting even a moment of that
surrender would have destroyed my own honor.
Dreadful,
beautiful fantasy.
And she knew it.
Honor lowered her
gaze. “I didn’t think it was possible, Father. What we feel is too dangerous. We
can’t control it.”
A quiet rage
blossomed within me.
I could control
myself. I was strong enough, fierce enough, devout enough to quell
whatever mortal, human, flawed urges tried to possess me.
Nothing would ever
challenge me that I hadn’t already faced.
Nothing .
I seized Honor,
pulling her into my arms. She gasped, though the words silenced as my hand
tangled in her hair. I held her tight as I pinned her to my body.
Our hips met, and
her chest pressed into mine, the swell of her breasts heaving, caught between
surrender and protest.
I
hardened—fiercely and violently.
She felt it. Her
eyes widened, but I didn’t let her speak. Didn’t let her move.
And if I hadn’t
lost my soul before, this was the moment when it should have been wrenched from
me. But I was strong enough to resist.
Though I desired
her kiss, I leaned only close enough to let the barest hint of my lips graze
against hers. If I had been a lesser man, I might have seized her, torn through
her clothes, and moved upon her then and there on the floor.
No, against the
wall.
Or in my office.
Or on the
altar—the sanctified, honored, perfect location to strip her bare, reveal her
to my sins, and take that sacrifice for myself.
My lips moved,
softly, only a feather’s width from hers.
“You will stay.”
The command resonated as hard as the sin between my legs. “You will join the
choir. You will sing. You will volunteer for the festival. You will join the
activities and groups of this parish. Every day I will find you here. Every
“How could it
hurt?” I gestured to the chapel. “This should be the place where we come to
seek strength and comfort.”
“And what if we
destroy it?”
I wouldn’t let her
speak of her soul in such a way. It pained me, just as it hurt her.
“I spoke with my
mentor today…Bishop Polito.” I didn’t say where I visited him or why I had gone.
“He warned me not to get trapped within my own thoughts. We can’t internalize
our problems. We must find a way to redeem ourselves. We are alone in our sins,
and that is why we’re suffering. To end it, we must stay together. You will
become more involved in the church.”
“It’s a bad idea,
Father. I won’t be forgiven because I’ll sing in the choir or help in the
festival.”
“Absolution is
mine to give. This is a chance to heal your spirit. You can give of yourself to
understand what has happened.”
She shook her
head. “And what about us?”
“We fight how we
feel. We forgive our transgressions. And if we are tempted…”
“ When we
are tempted, Father,” she said. “It is not a matter of if . It’s when … how .
I can’t trust myself around you.”
Trust.
A strange word.
I trusted nothing of
temptation. Not what darkened my mind, beat my heart, or hardened the part of
me pressing against the trousers under my robe. I tried to hide everything that
stained my soul, but my thoughts still shattered with wicked images and fantasies.
But if I wanted to
help Honor, I’d have to trust that I was strong enough to resist.
Because I could
only protect her if she stayed close.
If she wasn’t lost
already.
If I wasn’t
lost already.
“ Better is open
rebuke than hidden love , Proverbs 27:5,” I said. “We’ll hold ourselves
accountable. Protect each other.”
“Is it possible?”
Honor lowered her voice. She approached me, her hesitating steps a challenge to
my restraint. “I want to be holy, Father. And pure. And blessed …”
Her hips swayed.
Her blouse was buttoned
high, but the strain of the white material caressed the swell of her chest.
She breathed sweet
questions of innocence and lust between parted lips.
My angel offered
her salvation, damnation, and body for me. And tasting even a moment of that
surrender would have destroyed my own honor.
Dreadful,
beautiful fantasy.
And she knew it.
Honor lowered her
gaze. “I didn’t think it was possible, Father. What we feel is too dangerous. We
can’t control it.”
A quiet rage
blossomed within me.
I could control
myself. I was strong enough, fierce enough, devout enough to quell
whatever mortal, human, flawed urges tried to possess me.
Nothing would ever
challenge me that I hadn’t already faced.
Nothing .
I seized Honor,
pulling her into my arms. She gasped, though the words silenced as my hand
tangled in her hair. I held her tight as I pinned her to my body.
Our hips met, and
her chest pressed into mine, the swell of her breasts heaving, caught between
surrender and protest.
I
hardened—fiercely and violently.
She felt it. Her
eyes widened, but I didn’t let her speak. Didn’t let her move.
And if I hadn’t
lost my soul before, this was the moment when it should have been wrenched from
me. But I was strong enough to resist.
Though I desired
her kiss, I leaned only close enough to let the barest hint of my lips graze
against hers. If I had been a lesser man, I might have seized her, torn through
her clothes, and moved upon her then and there on the floor.
No, against the
wall.
Or in my office.
Or on the
altar—the sanctified, honored, perfect location to strip her bare, reveal her
to my sins, and take that sacrifice for myself.
My lips moved,
softly, only a feather’s width from hers.
“You will stay.”
The command resonated as hard as the sin between my legs. “You will join the
choir. You will sing. You will volunteer for the festival. You will join the
activities and groups of this parish. Every day I will find you here. Every
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