She listened, and I leaned back, bringing her with me.

“They’d rather kill themselves than live the rest of their lives with the shame,” I explained. “And not just them, but it regained their family’s honor, too.”

She remained still, but I felt her relax just a little.

“Getting arrested changed everything for me,” I continued. “—my future, my family, my hope…. Even after I got out, I could still see it in my parents’ eyes. The sadness in my mother’s and the disappointment in my father’s.” My eyes stung, and I felt her relax against my chest as she listened.

“What could I do, short of sticking a fucking sword in my gut, that would make my father see me the same way again?”

I wrapped my arms around her waist, hearing the cathedral creak around us as the wind blew outside.

“I couldn’t be with a woman, Banks. I couldn’t touch them. I couldn’t drink or smile or hardly eat. I couldn’t do anything that would bring me pleasure, because I wasn’t worthy.”

I hesitated, not wanting to hurt her, but she needed honesty.

“We put Rika through such hell last fall,” I admitted. “We blamed her and targeted her, put her in danger and scared her. We terrorized her, Banks.”

I dropped my voice to a whisper. “She saw me the worst I’d ever behaved, and she still talked to me. Still listened. Still wrapped her arms around me and fuck it…” I choked out, tears welling. “We just, the three of us, needed that moment. Each for different reasons, but she made me feel like I wasn’t alone anymore. She made me feel wanted and strong. And it brought me a little peace for the first time in a long time.”

I could feel her body shaking in my arms, and her breathing quivered. She cried softly. “But you…” I buried my nose in her neck, smelling something heady and fragrant. “You make me feel driven. You make me hungry and on fire and wanting to slow down time instead of wanting to rush through it. It’s you I look for when I walk in the doors in the morning. Not her. You.”

She exhaled a heavy breath and twisted her head around, finding my mouth. We kissed, her lips melting into mine and our tongues finding each other, taunting and teasing, biting and taking. I groaned, my dick swelling inside my pants, growing painful.

“You can touch me now,” she whispered between kisses.

And I didn’t need to be asked twice.

I ran my hands around her waist, feeling the lace and skin and squeezing her, because my adrenaline was running so hot I was losing control. She was so sweet.

I cupped one of her breasts, holding her to me and savoring the feel of her.

“I like the top.” I kissed and nibbled her neck “I love it.”

“I’ll pay you for the clothes.”

I peeled off her jacket, letting it fall to the floor, before lifting her shirt over her head. “Yes, you will.”

My suggestive joke didn’t seem to piss her off, because she kissed me again, her tongue brushing against mine.

“For starters, you can behave yourself,” I told her, kneading both breasts in the gray lace again.

“I’m a street punk, Mori,” she taunted, leaving little kisses across my cheek that were driving me crazy. “I fight dirty.”

“Not anymore. It’s your turn now.”

“My turn for what?”

I pushed her up from my lap and twisted her around, bringing her in again to stand between my legs.

Looking up at her faint outline in the dark, I held her hips as her hands rested on my shoulders.

“To confess,” I told her. “Time to wipe the slate clean.”

She made no move and remained silent, probably thinking about what she should do. What should she tell me? What shouldn’t she tell me?

“Go ahead,” I prompted her.

“I…” Her fingers slipped around the back of my neck, and she let out a nervous laugh. “Uh…forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been…”

She trailed off as I unbuttoned her jeans and let them fall down her legs.

“Six years since my last confession.”

She stepped out of the pants, to the outside of my legs, and sat down, straddling my lap.

I closed my eyes for a moment, running my hands down to her ass. I was back there again. In the Bell Tower, long before everything went to shit, and I was happy.

“I…” She pressed her groin into mine, leaning in. “I don’t know where to start. I’m nervous.”

“That many sins, huh?”

I heard her laugh, and I smiled.

“Okay, let me help you.” I squeezed her in my hands. “Did you think about me a lot during the last six years?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

I dug in my fingers, feeling her smooth skin and the lace of the panties.

“Were some of the thoughts good?” I questioned.

She leaned her chest into mine, her lips brushing my own. “Yeah.”

Electric heat swirled low, and I could feel damn near every little bit of her between her legs. My cock was straining against my pants.

“Did you touch yourself, thinking about me?”

She started panting, slowly rolling her hips against the hardness. I felt her nod.

And I took my hand away from her ass and brought it back down with a sharp whack.

She yelped, jerking back. “Hey!”

She rubbed the area I smacked, but I took her hand, bringing it back to my shoulder.

“That’s pretty naughty,” I told her. “So, what did you use…a vibrator, a pillow…?”

She breathed nervously now. “Um, my…my, my hand.”

I spanked her again and then kissed her hard, cutting off her cry. I rubbed the spot I hit, feeling her body slowly relax again.

“Did you like last night?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

Another whack.

She lurched forward, gasping. “Kai…”

“Do you like me?”

She panted in my ear and clutched my shoulders tight. “Yeah.”

Whack.

“You like me a lot?”

“Yes!” she cried.

Whack. She grunted, running her hands all over me and her lips across my jaw.

“You getting hungry, little one?”

“Yeah.”

Whack.

And she moaned this time, starting to dry hump my cock.

“Have you ever lied to me?” I asked, my tone deep.

She paused, and I smacked her twice this time, knowing that was definitely my answer.

“Ah!” She pressed herself into me.

“I can play dirty, too.” Lifting her off me, I spun her around and yanked her panties down her legs. I shrugged out of my jacket and unfastened my belt, pulling out my cock and feeling relief at giving it some room.

I pulled her back down on me.

“This is called reverse cowgirl, little one,” I growled in her ear. “Hang on.”

I pushed her forward, her hands shooting out to grasp the little ledge under the priest’s screen, and I held her leg at the curve where it met her hip and used my other hand to guide my cock. Finding her wet, I nudged her opening and, at the same time, thrust my hips, pulled her back into me, and slid inside in one shot.

She sucked in a breath, and my head fell back as I groaned.

So hot and tight.

Whimpering, she tightened her muscles around me, holding me inside her. “Oh, my God,” she gasped under her breath.

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, I pulled her head back and pulled out, thrusting deep again.

“More, faster,” she moaned.

And I started fucking her. Faster and harder, pounding into her as she gripped the ledge in front of her and used it as leverage, backing up into me.

This is what I wanted. What I always wanted, since the first time I’d seen her. Someone who knew me and wanted to dive with me.

All the years feeling helpless, someone telling me when to eat, sleep, walk, and speak, I came out of that place, feeling less than human. Feeling less than a dog. I was stripped away, afraid of the consequences if I got angry or violent or mean, so I held everything in, because I was never going to go back there. I was never going to be that man again, because I’d killed a part of myself and killed my parents when I went away.