Chapter 21 - Heresy

Chapter 21. Heresy

So I take a deep breath.

And I close the damn door.

Bella

---

Edward holds his hand flat against the door like he's worried God himself might try to force it open.

"Is this okay?" I wonder out loud.

He shakes his head never taking his eyes from mine. "No."

Nervous laughter bubbles up from my chest.

This is what I wanted - I wanted Edward to see me. And now he can't take his eyes off me - perched on his desk in the middle of the afternoon. I cross and recross my legs, feeling oddly exposed in the skirt I threw on this morning.

After everything I told him in the confessional, I feel like I may as well not be wearing anything at all. I've never, ever laid myself out there like that for anyone before. Still, I force myself to keep looking. There's no hiding now.

He takes a few steps toward me but stops at the chair, like he's afraid to go any further. I know the feeling. I don't trust myself either.

I swallow nervously. "If it's not okay, maybe you should open the door?"

"Not yet." He takes another step but hangs onto the chair like he needs an anchor. "I was wondering if you'd hear my confession first."

"What?"

Edward stares into my eyes as he sinks into a chair, and I'm caught. I couldn't walk away if I wanted to.

He clutches the armrests. "You poured your heart out back there." He nods toward the door. "But I've barely shared what's in mine. It doesn't seem fair."

"That's not true. You always let me ask you anything."

He shakes his head again. "But I haven't told you everything."

And maybe he's right. Even as friends, his priesthood stood between us. "I guess I thought it might be off the table for us."

"I don't want anything off the table anymore."

He doesn't know what he's saying. He can't.

"Stop teasing me while I'm on your table." I nudge his knee with a playful kick and feel heat from his eyes travel from my Chucks to the edge of my skirt. I swivel a little to put a few more inches between us, as if it might make a difference.

Edward smiles, his focus back on my face, but he doesn't look amused. He looks so nervous I think he might faint.

"I couldn't look at you during mass because, if I had, everyone in that congregation would've known how I feel."

He takes a deep breath.

My heart pounds in my ears.

"How do you feel?" I manage to ask.

"I can't stand that I've hurt you. I wish I could take it back."

"You're talking about taking back the kisses. Right?"

"I'm talking about the coffee shop. I was a righteous idiot."

"You were never an idiot."

An idiot could never kiss like that.

"Can you think of a better word for it?" He watches me intently.

"What about the kisses?" I ask again. I need to know.

Edward blushes and fiddles with a loose thread on the arm of the chair. And just when I'm sure I've asked too much, too many times, he looks up at me and he seems determined. And eager. And maybe even hopeful.

"I've wanted to kiss you since the first night we met, Bella. I still do."

He's really good at confessing.

"Fuck," I whisper. It's not intentional. It just slips from my lips.

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile. "Yeah. That too."

"What?"

"You want full disclosure. And I don't want to pretend anymore."

He doesn't take his eyes off me as he stands. Or when he leans against the desk, one hand on either side of me.

"You're not gonna tell me you can't see me again, are you?" My voice sounds breathless. My face feels like it's on fire. My body screams for his touch.

I watch Edward's Adam's apple bob in his throat. "I think we're past that." He pushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. It's like he touches my whole body with just a brush of a fingertip.

"Thank fucking God. No disrespect. To your pretend boss, I mean. Fuck. You know... God. Jesus Christ, I'm just, well… really glad." And short of breath. And maybe I have a fever.

Edward smiles as he places his hand over mine on the desk. "How would you feel -" He swallows as his fingers twine with mine. "If…" He searches my eyes.

"How would I feel if... what?" Because I feel tingly all over. I feel overdressed and overexposed at the same time. I feel a little faint, like a heroine in a Victorian romance novel, for Christ's sake.

"If I kissed you again?" Edward peers down at me. It's the look, but more sincere, more intense. His eyes smolder and I think my heart stops.

"I'm all for it."

"Good," he says as he fits his body between my legs. My skirt rides to mid-thigh.

"One thing?" I ask, holding up a finger.

Edward makes a move like he might take a step back, but I press my thighs on either side of his hips to hold him in place.

"Anything," he says. And I know he means it.

"Would you touch me this time?"

A rumble tears through Edward's chest.

His lips are on mine.

His hand clutches the back of my head.

His lips part. He nips. He sucks. He tastes.

He owns. And fuck, I let him… because, Christ, his kisses.

He pulls my top lip between his, teasing, tickling. I wrap my arms around him and pull until his chest is pressed against me. Until I can feel every breath, sense every beat of his heart.

When he slips his hand underneath my skirt and clutches my thigh, I whimper into his mouth. He hitches my leg higher, holding it tighter until I feel him hard against me. I don't know if I'm more surprised by his actions or by the sound I just made.

"I dreamt about this when we went out together." His voice is low and rough, like he doesn't want God to hear.

He pulls the band from around my ponytail and my hair falls over his hand. He winds it around his fist and tugs just a little, pulling my head back. Our noses brush as he locks eyes with me. "I wanted so much more in the confessional."

"Show me?" I ask, and he kisses me again. This time I fully wrap my legs around him and he answers with a thrust. His mouth slides from my lips, nipping his way down my neck until he gets to the collar of my flannel and I think I'm going to lose my mind.

"I can't get you out of my head," he confesses.

Maybe not, but he needs to know he could totally get me out of my shirt.

"I want you to see me," I say in a voice that's little more than a gasp.

He takes my face in his hands and looks into my eyes. "Always." He rubs his thumb along my lower lip, and I take his hand and slide it to the top button of my shirt.

"I want you to watch." I ease my hand from his and lean back on my elbows.

At first his fingers fumble with the top button, but they're smoother as they move lower.

Cool air wafts over my skin and I shiver. He checks in with me with a glance, and I bite my bottom lip in response.

"I've thought about this a million times," he murmurs.

With the next button I start to tremble.

"You're in my dreams at night." He watches his fingers undress me, while I feel like I'm the one coming undone.

"You're on my mind every day."

With the last button unclasped he pushes my shirt aside. And sighs.

I wish I wore something sexy but Edward doesn't seem to mind the white cotton camisole. Black pupils crowd out the hazel of his eyes.

"And that fucking hymn," he says, as he slides his hands over my bare thighs to the edge of my skirt - which is hardly doing its job. Really, it's just in the way.

I run my fingers up toward the little white square at the base of Edward's neck and he goes very still. When I hook my fingers there and try to pull him toward me, the cloth slips out of the black collar on either side, exposing a little valley between his collarbones. A spot that looks like it was made for my mouth.

I test my theory as I begin to unbutton his shirt, at first ghosting my lips over the hollow. Then peppering it with open-mouthed kisses. He groans when I slide my teeth along his collarbone and braces himself against me when I suck over the spot where I find his pulse.

And when his shirt's finally undone, I pull it wide only to find another one of his comic book t-shirts underneath. Stark Industries stares at me in large block letters.

Stupid, sexy, nerdy priest.

"What?" he asks, and when I glance up at him his eyes are gleaming.

"What, what?" I ask back.

He places a finger under my chin and tips my head. "What did you just say?"

I place a soft kiss on his lips. "Stupid."

And at the corner of his mouth. "Sexy."

Then slip to the spot just behind his ear. "Nerdy."

I slide my hands around his waist and over his ass.

"Man," I whisper in his ear as I pull him against me.

After that, Edward pulls my flannel the rest of the way off, while I tug at his clerical shirt. I glance around the office, wondering if the desk is the best place for this. But the chairs are too small and the only spot on the wall that's not covered with shelves is just beneath the Fergie poster. I can't help but smirk because it's her loss, really.

He's all mine.

I pull him down by his nerdy Marvel t-shirt as I lean back on the desk. He goes from kissing my mouth, to my neck, to the valley between my breasts. Until, finally, I feel his lips close over my nipple. Which would be so much more enjoyable if my fucking camisole wasn't still on.

Forget whimpering, I practically moan. I definitely gasp. I feel my hips roll and... Jesus, in this position I have him right where I want him.

"Fuck," he hisses, and I know what he means.

Because when I slide my hands underneath his tee, I find cords of muscle, and I know he must work out. Christ. There are definitely too many layers between us. He lets me pull his tee up and over his head. Suddenly I have the most beautiful topless man standing over me, gazing down like he wants to devour. I catch a blur of black ink on his chest as he wraps his arms around me.

"Wait, what's -" I start to ask, but he cuts me off with another kiss.

Whatever I was going to ask him is immediately forgotten. His skin is warm, the weight of him over me is intoxicating. His hand slips along my waist, then under the hem of my top, and… I convulse with laughter.

Suddenly I'm wriggling to get out from underneath him, pushing him away. Another brush of his fingers over my ribs and I can hardly breathe. My body's electric. My nerves are on edge. I nearly jump off the desk, dying from laughter and too much Edward.

Finally, I take a breath and open my eyes.

Edward's smiling down at me as I lay panting, half naked beneath him.

"What?" I ask. "I'm ticklish."

"This smile," he murmurs, running a finger over my lips. "I wanted to see this again. I liked to imagine how I'd make it happen. This wasn't on the list."

He looks from my face to my camisole pushed over my ribs, to the skirt pushed up over my waist. "I couldn't have imagined. Fuck."

His brow knits as his fingers skim just under the hem of my shirt.

I place my hand over his chest and give a little push so he's standing. "I've had thoughts too, you know. You're better in person."

I'm not lying either. I never dreamed he'd look like this - topless with tousled hair, his eyes dark with desire, his cheeks blushing as he stares at my breasts.

He reaches for me, but I hold up a finger and I grab the edge of my top. Pulling it over my head, I let it drop to the floor in a heap and almost combust in the heat of his gaze.

"You're breathtaking," he mutters.

"Touch me?" I ask.

His fingertip ghosts over my mouth and I let it slip between my lips. Then he traces a path down my throat and along my collarbone to the swell of my breast, which fits perfectly in his hand.

He dips his head and presses his lips to mine. His fingers explore, pulling at my nipple, palming my tit. When he wraps an arm around my waist to pull me closer, he tickles me again in the process and stands back to watch me laugh. I miss his touch immediately and my eyes fly open.

Without him between my legs, without his lips against my skin, or his hands around my body, all the blurry lines stand out in sharp detail. Edward's topless in his office. He's as perfect as I'd imagined, but he's not my imagination. His smile is real. His kisses, real. The tattoo over his chest… also real.

The black letters I only caught a hint of before form into words. Three words.

Poverty

Chastity

Obedience

Oh my God.

"Bella?"

"Oh my God."

Being a priest meant so much to him that he put the words there forever. Over his freakin' heart.

Of course he did. He's the perfect fucking priest.

I glance around. Papers from his desk are scattered over the office floor. The door doesn't even have a lock. Black and white pictures of priests scowl at us from each of the walls. I'm still holding the little white square from his collar in my hand. I drop it like it's on fire.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Edward takes my hand, but I slip off the desk and out of his grasp.

"I'm sorry," I mumble.

He doesn't tell me to drink. Because this time I really should be sorry. He was meant to be a priest. Ever since he met Jasper when he was just a kid.

I tug at my skirt and find my flannel.

"I'm not -" he starts to say as I grab my purse.

I open the door just enough so I can slip out without letting anyone else see Edward topless in an office that looks like it was hit by a hurricane. I frantically try to re-button my top to cover myself. My camisole must be lost somewhere under a pile of papers, but there's no way I'm going back in.

"Bella?"

I spin around to find Bishop Whitlock leaning against a doorway at the end of the hall. As he starts to walk toward me, he looks like a man who's suddenly not sure he's in the right place.

I know I'm in the wrong place. I fold my arms over my chest and try for an easy smile. "Um, hi Bishop."

He points to Edward's door. "Were you visiting Father Edward?"

Visiting. Right. Fellowshipping too.

"I, uh, was here for confession. And, um… stuff."

He eyes my top. Which is disheveled and half undone. "I see."

"Eyes up here, Bishop," I say. And fuck it, I stand tall and sling my purse over my shoulder. I forgot that most of the Catholic church is just like Bishop Whitlock. Edward's the exception.

Definitely exceptional. In many ways. Christ.

Bishop Whitlock's face flushes. "Of course." He shakes his head and looks me in the eye, like he's seriously concerned. "Everything alright?"

"Same old, same old. You know. Your average Monday afternoon."

If your average Monday includes seducing a priest.

As we start to pass each other, he slows and he smiles. "Yes, well, you know if there's anything you need, and… Edward's not… available. I'm here. Anytime."

"Thanks, but it wouldn't be the same. There's no one… no priest like him. You know?"

He laughs, but it feels more professional than genuine. "We can definitely agree on that. Edward's one of a kind."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yes!" he says, like he thinks I actually mean it. "Good to see you, Bella." As he walks away, he looks at the floor.

Which is good, because I realize I buttoned my top all wrong.