Page 52 of Acts of Contrition
I wait for panic to hit, to tell me to run, but all I feel … is peace.
This is right.
“I do. Forevermore.”
“By the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, I pronounce you wed in the eyes of God, Heaven, and the church. You may claim your first kiss.”
And it is my first kiss. No one ever, and I meanever, kissed me. Maybe Thomas knows this, because he is gentle, his beard actually soft against my skin. One hand holds my waist, the other tilts my head just right to reach him.
I could melt right into him and nearly do, my body pressed as close as possible. My mind goes to a movie I watched as a child,The Princess Diaries, where the main character spoke of how she wanted her first kiss to be.
This is all of that and more.
I almost wish time could stop and leave us here. Had I known this gentleness awaited me, I’d have weathered the pain better.
He pulls away and whispers, “You were worth working and fighting for, my dove.”
“Thank you for working on me,” I reply.
Lisa and Mother Catherine interrupt us to give us warm hugs, while Father Oliver looks on, smiling.
When Lisa lets her brother go, she hugs me, and I am careful of her hidden wounds. As she pulls away, she says, “Now, a little birdie told me you have one final task to join your souls as one and let go of your past.”
I nod and she hugs me again.
“Good luck, Sister. I am glad I can help you.”
Thomas walks me back to his house. Our house? I guess it is ours.
Before we enter, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me over the threshold before setting me down in the foyer.
“I had to be a little cheesy, forgive me,” he says as he locks the door. Turning to me, his eyes glitter in the dim, lateafternoon light. It spills in from the window, making his blond curls look like a halo of Heavenly fire.
Before I can think any further, he pins me to the nearest wall, hands on my wrists to keep me there, before he kisses me again, and this is the opposite of gentle, yet not forceful.
His tongue slips between my lips and I whimper, wanting more of this. Of him. Wanting him to erase all the others who ever came before him and be the only one my body knows or welcomes.
He bites down on my bottom lip and the sting makes me involuntarily arch my hips to his. He chuckles, licking the wound before pulling away.
“I had to get that out of my system,” he admits. “I may be a man of God, but at the end of the day, I am still flesh and blood.”
I can feel it, the heat of his blood, the hardness of flesh, through our clothes. And yet I’m not scared.
“Come on, let’s get you sturdier shoes and a jacket. We have to be somewhere by sundown, and it’s nearly here.”
Chapter Twenty
Diana
THOMAS WANTS TO give me one of his leather jackets, but it’s far too big for me, so he settles for a hoodie and I put on a pair of hiking boots I bought the other day in town.
Thomas once again looks like he’s ready to take the stage at a local rock concert in his all-black, skin tight ensemble. He sees me watching him and grins. “You had that look in your eyes the last time you saw me like this, little dove. Dare I think you rather like me this way? That the darkness left in me calls to its mate within you?”
All I can do is nod.
The doorbell rings and he cocks his head that way. “Are you ready?”
That’s a loaded question. Am I? Can I do this? I wait for anxiety and fear and guilt to grip me, but all I feel is a sense of calm, so I nod again.
