Lust: Chapter 9

“Would you mind talking to me about why you took an internship at a church when you don’t believe?” Brandon asks in a soft, melodic voice.

I lower my eyes to my plate to hide my disappointment. I should have known the only reason he invited me to dinner after work was to minister to me. It was too much to hope that he’s starting to see me as a friend.

Or a potential lover.

Fuck, I’m so dumb. Even if he weren’t celibate, he’d have no interest in me. I’m a child in his eyes. This attraction is one-sided.

Besides, if he doesn’t even want Sofia—the objectively better-looking daughter—there’s no way in hell he’s thought twice about me. I was only imagining that he wanted to kiss me yesterday.

I plant a smile on my face. “Are you trying to initiate some pastoral counseling right now?”

“No.” He licks a spot of sauce at the corner of his lips, drawing my attention to his tongue. A shiver runs over my skin. “I’m asking you as a friend who’s curious.”

Friend. The word is so warm and comforting and dependable coming from his mouth, like the steady rhythm of a clock.

Too bad it’s bullshit.

I drop my fork to knead the knots in the back of my neck. “You of all people should know that my dad is a hard ass. For as long as I have even the slightest financial dependence on him and my mom, I have to tread lightly.” My smile doesn’t reach my eyes. “And it’ll be another two years before I finish graduate school so…”

He smiles warmly. “I know I’m biased here, but I think he’d handle the atheist news better than you think. He wouldn’t cut you off financially.”

I snort. “You are biased. In fact, I don’t even really understand how you two are so close. I mean, I love him to death, but your beliefs are so different. He truly believes I’ll go to hell if I don’t change.”

Brandon reaches out and touches my arm, and I hope he doesn’t hear my sharp inhale. “He doesn’t want to believe it. You know that right? He thinks it’s the truth.”

I groan. “Why doesn’t he listen to you on this topic? You obviously know more about the Bible than he does.”

He smiles. “Hector won’t listen to a pastor who he’s seen in his boxers.”

In an instant, the tension leaves my whole body, and a giggle bubbles from my chest. “How did that happen? He won’t go into detail about any of your pre-Christian days.”

Brandon looks down at the table, his eyes growing unfocused. “Your dad was determined to meet me where I was, and I wasn’t a Christian when I started going to First Covenant. I think he sensed that I was in need, and he took any opportunity he got to talk to me about God. He even started showing up at the bars. It annoyed the hell out of me, actually. At first.” A warm smile rises to his lips. “He wouldn’t drink much, so he’d usually drive me home, and that particular time…” He shakes his head. “I was plowed. He helped me into my house, and according to him—because I don’t remember a damn thing—I immediately stripped down to my boxers and passed out face down on my couch. It was like I didn’t even know he was there.”

Warmth fills my belly at the thought of it. My dad has mentioned this story several times, never in detail. But the words “Brandon” and “boxers” was enough.

More than enough.

I’d love to have been the one taking care of him while he was drunk. I’d love to see him acting silly and vulnerable for a change. I’d love to see him in only his boxers…

“Why did you go to First Covenant if you weren’t a Christian?” I ask to change the subject, hoping my cheeks don’t look as flushed as they feel.

He’s quiet for a moment. “I thought it would remind me of my mom. She went to a Pentecostal church, and I had just lost her.”

“You were really close to her,” I say, because he’s mentioned his mom a few times at family gatherings. Never his dad, though.

He nods. “I had a really hard time when she died. She had an aggressive cancer, and I knew it was coming, but you’re never prepared.”

His dark eyes grow vacant for a moment, as if he’s drifting into the past. I want to touch his arm, like he did mine a moment ago, but I’m not sure if it would give him any comfort. He seems to be avoiding any physical closeness with me since I started working at the church.

“I’d probably do the same thing,” I say softly. “Church is so important to my family. If I lost any one of them, it’s probably the first place I’d go to feel close to them.”

His dark eyes meet mine, growing intense. “I never really felt her there, though. It wasn’t the same church I went to as a kid. That’s in Healdsburg, where I grew up. First Covenant just didn’t give me the same feeling.”

I lean forward, placing my elbows on the table. “You think she wouldn’t have liked First Covenant, huh? She never would have gone there. Pastor Dave is a misogynistic prick. Your mom wouldn’t have liked him.”

Because she would have been like Brandon.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You never hold back, Mariana. You’re fearless.”

A shiver skates over my skin. There’s reverence in his voice. I’m not imagining it.

This might be the first time he’s ever made me feel like an equal instead of a little girl. There was nothing patronizing of the way his beautiful mouth caressed the word “fearless.”

“You’re right, by the way,” he continues. “I don’t think she would have liked First Covenant, but it was meant to be. I found your dad, who became one of the most important people in my life. He’s more than a friend. He’s…” He lowers his gaze to his beer. “I look up to him a lot.”

“He’s kind of like a father figure, huh?”

Brandon smiles ruefully, and it makes my stomach flutter. I like seeing him like this. He’s so sweet when he’s vulnerable.

“Anyway.” His smile fades, his face growing stoic. I could almost laugh. He’s clearly not as comfortable showing vulnerability to me as I am receiving it. “I love him. I love all of you—”

My gut clenches at his use of the word “love.”

“Which is why I want to help bridge the gap between you guys, if I can. I know it’s not really my business, but I get the feeling you’re comfortable opening up to me.” His dark eyes probe mine, shooting straight into my gut.

“Yes.” I swallow. “You’re kind of like a mentor.” A mentor I’d like to fuck, that is. “I always feel better after talking to you.”

He smiles tightly. “I’m glad.”

For some reason, he doesn’t sound like he means that.

He sighs. “At the risk of sounding patronizing, I think it might help if you at least work toward being more open with your family. Part of becoming an adult is learning to let go of the fact that you might disappoint the people you love. It’s hard, but it’s worth it.”

I let out an exhausted sigh. “It’s easy for you to say. My whole family’s in awe of you—except for my dad, of course.”

“You’re right. I have no idea what it’s like for you. You’re real family. They love you more than they love me, which means there’s more fear involved. But I do know what it’s like to lose my community.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I lived a very different life before I became a pastor.”

“Oh, you mean your old gym business?” When my gaze drifts to his huge, muscular arms, he smiles mischievously. My cheeks grow warm. I lift my chin, refusing to cower. “You still look like a gym rat. I think you’d fit right in with that community, even as a pastor.”

He narrows his eyes, and heat fills my stomach. I love this look he gives me from time to time.

Like he wants to spank me.

“People in health and wellness have a hard time relating to a career like mine,” he says.

“So you really got dropped by everyone?”

He shrugs as he takes a sip of his beer. “Not really. They just all sort of…fell away. They have no interest in my life anymore.”

I nod slowly. “I could see that happening with my family too. Not that they would actually fall away. I’d still be a part of everything, but they’d… I think they’d be more distant with me if I told them I’m an atheist.”

“And that’s something that you’ll have to weigh out. You’ll have to figure out if it’s more important to you to have honesty or closeness. I’ll be frank though, if you keep doing what you’re doing now—going to church and keeping your mouth shut about what you really think—it’ll be hard to have true closeness.”

His words strike my heart, making it hard to take a breath. What he’s really saying is that I’m condemned to always being an outcast, regardless of the choice I make. Always being lonely, the way I’ve felt since I was a teenager.

Even though I was far from the most rebellious in our family based on stories I’ve heard from Abuelita, everyone seemed to sense it was different with me. The questions I asked about existence and proof for God scared them.

It didn’t matter that I did all the things I was supposed to do. I wore a purity ring until I was eighteen even though I had already had sex by that age. I went to church and youth group every week. Hell, I even got baptized.

None of it made me closer to them. I’ve been delusional, holding onto a hope that made me repress who I am deep down.

“You’re right,” I mutter.

Brandon sets his hand on my forearm again. The warmth of his skin radiates through my whole body. “You have every reason to grieve.”

I swallow, forcing a smile. “Do I seem like I’m grieving?”

His gaze roams my face. “You seem a little…thoughtful.”

I nod. “I was just remembering how I got baptized to make my parents happy, and it didn’t work.”

He smiles sadly.

“I didn’t believe even then. It felt fake while I was doing it.” I pin him with a hard stare. “What if I got baptized right now?”

He frowns. “I’m not following.”

I raise both hands in the air, unable to contain the energy surging through my body at my sudden idea. “What if you baptized me not as a Christian, but as an atheist?”

He looks at me for a prolonged moment. “I don’t think it’s a ritual atheists usually take part in.”

“It should be for atheists like me. We were raised with rituals and symbolism. It will be committing my life to atheism, the same way I pretended to commit it to Christ when I was a kid. I’m having a hard time accepting myself. Maybe a ritual would help.”

He sighs. “Will you be disappointed if it doesn’t?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I promise. I just want to try it.”

He sighs. “Your dad would kill me if he knew. This is not what he meant when he asked me to help you.”

I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t his place to ask you.”

“Don’t think I don’t know that, but I still agreed.”

“Stop being a pushover.”

He narrows his eyes, his lips quirking. “Do you want me to help you or not, young lady?”

My stomach clenches. “Yes, Pastor.” I’m surprised how light my voice sounds. “I just want you to stop acting on behalf of my dad.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he leans forward. The smile that overtakes his face sends arrows of heat straight to my groin. It’s a wicked smile. There’s no other way to describe it.

It’s the smile he used to give women in his kinky past.

“I’m a man of the cloth, young lady. I don’t answer to your dad. I don’t answer to anyone but God.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” I nearly shout.

He leans back into his seat. “If it’ll really help you.”

When I squeal, his smile grows. “We usually do it in the ocean at New Morning. I could find a time on my schedule, maybe this week or—”

“Why not right now?”

His eyes widen.

I gesture at the restaurant patio deck, which has an expansive view of the ocean. “It’ll probably be sunset by the time we’re out in the water. What a perfect symbol. My faith in God will leave with the sun. I’ve never been afraid of darkness.”

He looks at me for a prolonged time, and my heart thumps as I try to read his thoughts. The corner of his lips are slightly lifted, and there are creases at the corners of his eyes. Something about this look makes heat shoot into my groin.

“We won’t have time to get swimsuits,” he finally says, and I know I’ve won.

“I don’t want one.” My voice is shaky in my giddiness. “I wore an oversized T-shirt the first time. My mom thought a bathing suit was too immodest.”

He glances out at the water. “You’re going to freeze when we get out there.”

I nod once. “A symbol of how uncomfortable it is to embrace who you really are. The cold will be worth it, like you said.”

“You are something else, Mariana.” He’s almost grinning now. “Alright. You’ve convinced me.”

I shriek as he pulls out several bills from his wallet and sets them on the table. “Let’s do it.”

A short while later, we’re standing with bare feet at the edge of the water. As the waves lap gently at the shore, I let the melody of the ocean wash over me.

This is right.

This is what I need.

“Are you sure you want to do this just the two of us?” Brandon asks. “You don’t want Livvy here?”

I shake my head. “This is something I need to do alone.”

“But I’m with you.”

There’s something in his tone… Something warm and dark. I don’t have time to interpret it, because he huffs out a laugh. “Alright, let’s do it before we chicken out.”

My heart races as he sets his hand on my back and leads me into the water. Coldness washes across my feet, and a shiver runs up my spine. We wade out until the water is just below our hips. The waves roll over us, occasionally throwing me off balance.

Brandon’s expression grows grave. “What does this mean for you?”

I know exactly what he’s asking, and a stillness descends over me. “It means that I’m accepting who I am. Even if I’m not ready to tell my family, I know what I’m about, and I’m not afraid of it.”

He stares at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before. Those inky-dark eyes bore into mine. His lips quirk slightly, as if he’s impressed with me, and my heart grows light.

I think he might be proud of me.

He sets his hands on my shoulders, and I’m suddenly engulfed with his big frame. Those huge arms of his and that muscled chest. Even with the heavy aroma of seawater, tendrils of his musky scent reach my nose.

God, he smells so fucking good.

This is so much more intimate than I thought it would be. If I weren’t so overwhelmed with what I’m about to do, I’d probably be turned on.

“I’m not quite sure what to say as I baptize you.” Brandon’s smile grows sheepish. “Usually, I do it in the name of Jesus Christ.”

I smile. “Improvise.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners before he shuts them, and his expression grows somber. “As you enter the waters, Mariana, may your…self-acceptance surround you. Let this moment be a testament of your journey to becoming an atheist, and your commitment to loving yourself for who you are.”

He lifts me by my shoulders as if I’m as light as a doll. The shock of cold makes me gasp when he dips me back into the water, completely submerging me. For a moment, everything is dark and quiet, and my body is weightless. When he pulls me back up, the cool air fills my lungs.

The moment is over as quickly as it began, but my heart is as light as a helium balloon.

Tears rise to my eyes even as a giggle escapes my chest. “I feel different. I really do.”

His dark eyes are nearly black as he stares back at me. “I’m glad.”

We fix our eyes on each other in an electric silence. It’s only when his gaze drops to my mouth that I realize his big hands are still gripping my shoulders.

Holy shit, is he going to kiss me?

I swallow and lick my lips, and his gaze grows hooded. He lifts his hand to my face and grips my chin. His thumb brushes my bottom lip, and my stomach turns into molten lead.

As if recalling himself, his eyes grow wide, and he nearly shoves me away. “I have towels in my trunk,” he says.

“Okay,” I say.

But he’s already nearly to the beach, like he can’t get away from me fast enough.

His knuckles are almost white as they clench the steering wheel. He hasn’t looked at me for the entire drive.

I wish I knew what he’s thinking. Is he angry with me?

No. He’s too reasonable a person. He knows that touch was all him.

But damn, I liked it.

And maybe he caught on to my feelings.

The silence hanging between us gnaws at the edges of my sanity. I pick at the hem of my soaked dress, my fingers trembling slightly. The memory of his touch on my lip sends a shiver down my spine.

He pulls into the parking lot of my apartment building, shutting off the car without a word. The silence in the air grows thick as I wait for him to say something.

“Can you come to my office tomorrow morning?” he finally says, his voice low. I glance at him, hoping to read his expression, but all I see is his stoic profile illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlamps.

I swallow. “What for?”

Dread washes over me when he doesn’t respond.

He’s going to fire me. He’s decided it’s not worth doing this favor for my dad if we’re attracted to each other.

Holy shit. Is he really attracted to me? Even a half hour ago, I would have said it was impossible, but there was no mistaking that molten darkness in his eyes when he gripped my chin.

Slippery wetness gathers between my legs. I never thought I could be so turned on by a gesture so small.

But this is Brandon.

“I just…” He shuts his eyes. “We need to have a talk.”

When I lift my hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, I notice my hands are shaking. “We can’t have it now?”

“No,” he says immediately, reaching his hand to the door and clicking the unlock button.

I’ve been dismissed.

I’m going to be on pins and needles until tomorrow morning.

Brandon

“You’re kind of like a mentor to me.”

She said those words less than an hour before I fondled her mouth.

What has gotten into me? She trusted me to baptize her, for fuck’s sake, and I touched her. I don’t think I ever behaved that recklessly even before I found God. I certainly never had the urge to touch one of my employees, and this was so much worse. Even if she’s an atheist, baptism is still sacred, a moment of spiritual cleansing, and I allowed carnal desire to taint it.

A small touch. A fraction of a second. Yet the softness of her lips against my thumb sent a surge of electricity through my body that was so potent, I could have fallen into the water.

My mind is still racing as I walk inside my house. I make my way to Ethan’s room immediately. The door is open, and he’s sitting at his desk, surrounded by books and notes. His head perks up when I walk inside, and he frowns.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I let out a deep breath before telling him everything. How I touched Mariana after the baptism, and how my self-control seems to have been stretched into oblivion.

Ethan listens quietly, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe you should court Mari instead of Sofia.”

I scowl at him. “It would be the end of my relationship with Hector. I would lose the only family I have besides you.”

A notch forms between his brows. “You really think he’d be that upset about it?”

“Yes,” I say immediately. “It would be a betrayal of his trust. He asked me to counsel her. He sees me as a father figure to her.”

He cringes, and I want to cringe myself. A father figure to beautiful, mischievous Mariana. It’s ludicrous.

“In that case…” He expels a breath through pursed lips. “You probably should avoid being alone with her.”

I let out a groan that reverberates through the room. “I thought the same thing. I’ll have to implement a rule that we always need someone in the room with us at the church.”

Ethan smirks. “Billy Graham rules.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “No. This is just for me. And only with her. Because I crossed a line. This is to show her that I know I messed up, and I want to make it right. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable at work.”

His lips quirk. “The lip touch sounded consensual to me.”

I shut my eyes. “I’m her pastor. She trusted me to baptize her.”

He gets up from his chair and pats my shoulder. “I’d pray about it before you set up any rules at the church. If I know anything about Mari, she’s not going to like being told what to do.”

A smile tugs at my lips against my own will. No, she’ll probably tell me I’m overstepping. Her eyes will flash, and that cute little chin will lower as she leans back into her chair.

“I don’t agree, Pastor.”

“I don’t care, young lady. You’ll obey me, or else…”

Fuck.

When my eyes shoot to Ethan, he’s smirking at me, clearly sensing the direction of my thoughts. With a final glare at him, I march out of the room.

God help me tomorrow.