A Bad Habit Page 2

  “Okay. I’ll take it.” I leave quickly. As soon as I am behind the wheel of the SUV, I begin to relax. How can the man, any man, but especially him, make me so nervous? Make me forget to breathe? Make me wish things were very different? Putting the coat on, I take a deep breath, which is a mistake. It smells like him. Sandalwood, and sweat maybe. I don’t know what exactly, but I like it. Far too much.

  Starting the car, I use the navigation system to locate a grocery store about three miles down the road. I pull out of the little parking lot behind the church and into traffic. Following the directions, I make it to the store in just a few minutes. I begin shopping by going up and down every aisle, grabbing everything including the basics. Quickly, I plan a week's worth of meals, snacks, drinks, and desserts. I take my time shopping because I am totally hiding from the priest who sets my blood on fire.

  Eventually, there’s nothing left to get, and I make my way to the checkout. Four hundred eighty dollars later I head back to the rectory. I pull up as close as I can to the kitchen door and begin to unload. I am not there for thirty seconds when Father O’Riley is out there helping me.

  “You don’t need to do that, Father,” I tell him trying to take the bags out of his hands.

  “Nonsense, Beth. And, please, call me Jacob. No need to be so formal,” he says chuckling. Raising my eyes skyward, I pray for strength, because mine is quickly waning.

  “It wouldn't be right. Dinner will be ready in an hour, Father.”

  “If you insist, Sister. If you insist.”

  “I am afraid I must insist,” I tell him, barely above a whisper, looking down at the floor. He growls, startling me. I look up a split second later. Our eyes meet and before I know it, or can think coherently enough to stop him, his lips are on mine and I am lost in this kiss.

  This is happening.

  This is happening.

  This is happening.

  This new mantra is running through my mind and I am unable to stop it. Do I even want to? I can already tell that he’s going to be a bad habit that I never want to break.

  Chapter Four

  Jacob

  I honestly don’t know what came over me. Kissing her is a colossal mistake and the sweetest torture I have ever endured. For the life of me, I can’t stop kissing her. She is so responsive that unquestionably I need to see how far I can take this. I shouldn’t pull her wimple off, but I do. Her dark, wild, soft, and silky hair is in my hands. She groans and uses her small hands to push me away from her.

  “Father O’Riley, have you lost your mind?” she asks touching her lips before running her hands through her hair.

  “I think I have, lass. I think I have.” What is wrong with me? Kissing nuns isn’t something I should be doing. Hell, it isn’t something anyone should be doing. Especially not pretty Beth.

  “You can never, ever do that again,” she says putting her wimple back on.

  “I don’t think I can promise such a thing,” I reply honestly.

  “Dinner will be ready in an hour,” she says after daintily clearing her throat.

  “Thank you, Sister,” I say leaving the room in order to give her space she so obviously requires. I have to adjust myself as I leave the room. Willing my erection to go down, I head into my office and sit behind my desk. I should be working on my scripture selections and homily for Sunday, but I am unable to concentrate. All I can think about is Beth. Why was she so responsive? Did she have a lover before she took her vows? Just the thought of some unknown man touching what I already think of as mine has me wanting to break a Commandment or two. That sentiment stops me in my tracks. I shouldn’t want a woman to belong to me, but help me God, I do.

  I have never been one for self-flagellation but whipping myself doesn’t seem like a bad idea right now. Penance for my thoughts is just what I need. I can’t figure out why she is having such a visceral grip on me, but she does, and I want to explore it. Damn, the consequences.

  I sit and think about her until there is a soft, but demanding knock on my door.

  “Come,” I say rather harshly. The door opens without a sound.

  “Sorry to disturb you Father O’Riley, but dinner is ready,” Beth says sticking her head in the door.

  “Of course,” I say standing and following her to the kitchen.

  “I set it up here because the dining room seemed too big for just the two of us. Once the junior priests arrive, I will serve meals there.”

  “Whatever you wish, Sister. Everything smells lovely,” I tell her, meaning it.

  “It’s just a simple steak with mashed potatoes and green beans,” she says. “Please sit.” She waits by her seat and doesn’t sit down until I do. For some reason, that doesn’t sit well with me.

  “Why did you wait to sit?” I ask after she finally takes a seat.

  “The Mother Superior sits first. I assumed you did as well.”

  “A gentleman doesn’t sit before a lady,” I tell her pausing to take a bite of the potatoes. I can’t help the groan I make at the taste. “These are delicious, Beth.”

  “Thank you,” she says blushing. I can tell that she is uncomfortable with the compliment, but she begins to eat, and I don’t have a chance to say anything else for the food is amazing.

  “Tell me about yourself,” I say in an attempt to make the conversation normal.

  “What do you want to know?” she asks.

  “Whatever you want to tell me.”

  “Alright. I was born in Philadelphia and lived with my parents until I was about three. We got into a car accident. They died and I didn’t. I was put in a Catholic orphanage and eventually found my way to the convent. The rest is history,” she says shrugging.

  “That must have been difficult,” I say, reaching my hand out to cover hers without thinking.

  “I don’t think so. If I had been older, I believe it would have been. But as it is now, I am fine. The only thing I struggle with is Honor Thy Mother and Thy Father. How can I honor people that I do not know?”

  “There are many ways you can honor them. Praying for their souls is one way that comes to mind.” She rewards me with a bright smile.

  “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  “No problem.”

  “Tell me about you,” she says.

  “Not much to tell. I grew up in the dodgy end of Belfast. Then I found myself in Catholic school. As the second son, joining the clergy wasn’t too far out of the realm of expectations for me. My brother had already joined the military. So, I went to the seminary and took my vows. The church needed me in America, so here I am.”

  “Are your parents still in Ireland?”

  “They are. They own a restaurant there. It’s their life’s work.”

  “I am glad that you still have that connection with your family.”

  “We do talk on the phone often, but I haven’t seen them in about five years.”

  “That must be difficult,” she says mirroring my earlier words. Our fingers are now entwined. She looks down and realizes that and pulls her hand away hastily. She’s blushing again. Our eyes meet and she quickly looks away from me. I can’t help smiling at that. She’s not immune to me and that makes me feel about a thousand feet tall.

  We eat the rest of the meal in silence. Afterward, I help her clean up and then she heads to bed.

  Trying to sleep under the same roof as she is, a mere hundred paces away from me is hard. I have to force myself to stay in my room before I do something crazy, like pin her to her bed and put us both out of our misery.

  My word is my bond and my bond with God cannot be forsaken for a woman. Can it?

  Chapter Five

  Beth

  Kneeling, I pray before bed like I always do.

  “Dear Lord, please protect those who can’t protect themselves. Please keep the troops safe from harm. On a personal note, why do I want this man so badly? I shouldn’t want any man, but definitely not the rogue priest. Why does everything in me call out to him
? Please give me the strength to endure him. Amen.”

  Lying in my bed, which is supremely more comfortable than the one I have at the convent, I try to sleep, but it’s no use. I am so frustrated. I am achy in between my legs and I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. His firm lips on mine had me yielding to him in a way that I have never done before. Until I came to my senses, that is.

  Who knows how far I would have gone or allowed him to go if I hadn’t. His eyes roamed my face and hair once he took off my wimple and the intensity that I saw in them will forever be burned in my memory. I shift in bed and when I do my thighs rub together in just the right way causing me to moan. Oh no. All my life I was warned about the evils of touching myself. How selfish it is, but I’ve never believed that. I don’t believe that God would have made it pleasurable if he didn’t think we’d do it, but I am not a philosopher. I have my own opinions, but they don’t mean much.

  Fiddling with the edge of my sleep pants, I contemplate how easy it would be to touch myself. Ease the ache Father O’Riley has caused within me. My sleep clothes are the only thing I kept from before. The most comfortable pants I own is a pair of Mickey Mouse pajama pants that were donated to the orphanage. I haven’t been able to part with them yet.

  Just as I am about to touch myself, I hear a loud boom then nothing for a few seconds. Next, there is a loud knock on the door. Getting out of bed, I answer the door. I knew he’d be on the other side, as he is the only other person here, but I kind of hoped it wouldn’t be. He’s not wearing a shirt. Just a pair of plaid pants. His chest is so muscular, and the tattoos cover the expanse of his chest and both arms. They are either religious in nature or words in Latin. Why do I want to run my tongue over all of them? One large cross is centered down his torso crossing his pecs. It’s deliciously huge.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, concerned trying to look over my shoulder into my room.

  “Yes. Of course, I’m fine. Are you? What was that noise?” I ask.

  “I’m good too. I am not sure what it was though. I’ll go investigate.”

  “It sounded like it came from outside,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around my shoulders. I am suddenly freezing.

  “I’ll check it out. Stay here until I come back,” he tells me.

  “Okay. Put a coat on at least. It was still snowing when I laid down an hour ago.”

  “I will,” he says, putting his hand on my cheek lightly. I lean into his touch and stupidly, I kiss his palm before he steps away. “I’ll be right back.” Then he’s gone. I close the door and wait for him in the overstuffed chair in the corner. I must have fallen asleep again because suddenly he's shaking me awake. His hands are cold, and he did not put a coat on. "Beth, we have to go, now. Someone set the sanctuary on fire. I've put it out, but it's not safe here."

  "Oh, my goodness. Did you call the police?" My hands clutch my chest.

  "Of course. They will meet us at the hotel to discuss. They do things differently here, but I have to keep you safe."

  "Okay. Thank you. I'll just get dressed," I say not wanting anyone to see me like this. It’s bad enough that he’s seeing me like this.

  "That's a good idea, two minutes?"

  "Sounds good." He leaves and I am left to contemplate why someone would do this to a church? Also, how in the world am I going to survive a hotel with him? I don't have an answer to the first question and the answer to the second eludes me. I throw my clothes on quickly over my pajamas, pulling my wimple on as I leave my room. Out in the hallway, I crash face-first into something solid. Warm and solid. Looking up, I find him staring down at me. He dressed, wearing his collar. His chest is massive, and he smells amazing. His arms wrap around my back to keep me from falling on my butt.

  Closing my eyes, I revel in the feel of him. I might have moaned, but I can’t be sure because he definitely groaned. His chest rumbled with it. My eyes pop open in surprise, though I really shouldn’t be. He’s already kissed me. Wasn’t I just thinking about it when the church caught on fire? The realization dawns on me that I did this.

  “Oh, no!” I exclaim.

  “What?” he asks, concerned.

  “I did this. I set the church on fire with my wicked, wicked thoughts.”

  “What?” he asks again.

  “I was thinking things that I shouldn’t have been thinking right when it happened. God has punished me for wicked thoughts.”

  “Darling, no. I do not believe it works that way. What were you thinking about?”

  “I can never tell you, not like this. Not in this setting. Should we go?” I ask, hastily changing the subject.

  “Of course, Beth,” he says gently taking my arm, helping me into one of his coats, and leading me out of the building. We get into a different SUV then I used earlier and drive away from the church. We are in the car for less than ten minutes when he pulls into the parking lot of a fancy hotel.

  “We’re staying here?” I ask. It’s my turn to be confused.

  “It’s the closest hotel to the church,” he says.

  “Oh, okay,” I say but for some reason, I don’t believe him.

  “Alright. The closet in this direction,” he says grinning at me.

  “That’s better,” I say, laughing.

  In the lobby of the hotel, he checks into the only room they have, but at least it’s a two-room suite. Before we go upstairs, two detectives and a fire investigator come up to us.

  “Father, I am Detective Fallon, this is Detective Jones and Inspector Kelly. “We have had a string of church fires in the area. This is the fifth one in as many nights. What can you tell us about the blaze?”

  “It wasn’t huge. A Molotov cocktail, I presume since a broken bottle of vodka was just under the broken window.

  “Familiar with those, are you?” Inspector Kelly asks.

  “I grew up in Belfast with the IRA,” he says by way of explanation and all three men nod solemnly. I learned about them in school. It was not a great way to live.

  “And where were you when you heard the noise?” Detective Jones asks, poised to write down the answers.

  “In bed. Both of us were,” Jacob explains to which all three men look up with raised eyebrows.

  “What Father O’Riley means is that we were in our separate beds. Separate rooms,” I reply hastily. Probably too hastily to be believable. Jacob laughs and puts his arm around my shoulder. I try to duck it, but it’s no use. I can't think when he's near me, but touching me? Forget about it.

  “Of course, Sister?” he pauses long enough for me to supply my name.

  “Mary Elizabeth,” I reply smiling at the men.

  “What a pretty name,” Inspector Fallon says. Jacob’s hand on my shoulder tightens and I don’t know why.

  “Thanks,” I say just wanting this conversation to be over.

  “All right, we will be in touch,” Detective Jones says and all three men hand Jacob their cards. They leave and we make our way up to our room.

  When did I start referring to him as Jacob, even to myself?

  He walks me to the door of the bigger room and grabs my forearm to stop me from walking in.

  “Are you okay, Beth?”

  “Yes, of course,” I tell him. Growing up in an orphanage makes you pretty resilient to change, even emergencies.

  “I’ll be just next door if you need me,” he says resting his large hand on my cheek again.

  “Alright,” I say leaning into his touch. I am a glutton for his touch and that thought frightens me. Frightens me to the point of turning away from him again even though I don’t want to. Closing the door behind me, I lean on it. I hear his hand come down on the door. His breathing is loud, even though the thick wood.

  “This is weird for me too, darling,” he says before walking away.

  I want to shout at him to come back. To help me. Guide me away from the urges or steer me toward them but I know that would be wrong.

  Oh, God, why are you testing me? I ask in silent prayer. For the first time
, there is no response. What am I supposed to make of that?

  Chapter Six

  Jacob

  Every second in her presence makes it harder and harder to not take her. Not that I’d know what I’m doing but I do understand the basic biology of it from school. At six in the morning, I leave the room and seek out the gym. Every morning begins with a workout. Today, I am going at it much harder than I usually do. My frustrations are at an all-time high. I need her like I need oxygen. I wonder if it’s because it’s the first time in forever I have been in close proximity with a young woman, but I quickly dispel that. I was a healthy kid growing up. Went to a coed Catholic school. I’ve been around girls before and I never wanted them the way that I want her. She's ethereally beautiful, like a dark angel, but it's more than that. She's sweet and cares for me. Cares about me. If I didn't know better, I could swear that I'm in love with her. Instantly and irrevocably.

  When I return to the room, she's up and pacing but not dressed yet. She's wearing the same ridiculously threadbare pajamas as last night, only this time I can see her nipples. Her perfect, perfect nipples. I have a sudden urge to bite them, to mark them. I am just wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a sweat-soaked t-shirt.

  "Where were you?" she asks concerned.

  "At the gym, why? What's wrong?" I am immediately on alert and concerned for her.

  "Uh, I, uh, didn't know where you were. I was worried," she says stiltedly, wringing her hands.

  "I'm fine, darling."

  "You shouldn't call me that," she tells me, walking into my open arms. I can't help smiling.

  "What should I call you then?"

  "Beth is fine with me."

  "Beth is a fine name," I tell her rubbing her back.

  "We should go back to the church and be sure the damages won't interrupt the Sunday service."

  "Of course. I am just going to take a quick shower." She makes a strange gurgling sound in her throat and backs away from me.