Priest (A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Love Story) Read Online Free

from when I was a kid…bad memories that I’d suppressed for a very long
time.
    Grandma let us talk about them as much as
we needed to, but things were so warm, comfortable, and safe living with her
that we could soon put those feelings in a box and seal them. We didn’t have to
take them out and look at them unless we chose to.
    I never chose to, but since Grandma died, I
was forced to. The alcohol helped me forget and it also numbed the pain that
came with losing her. I had so much repenting to do…on Thursday, but not until
then.
    I was out of scotch.
    I pulled on a t-shirt and jeans and ran my
fingers through my hair. Once I slipped on my black, leather boots I checked my
reflection. There was no sign on my forehead that said “Fallen Priest.” I
looked like any other thirty-one-year-old guy. I grabbed my keys and went in
search of a dark, quiet bar.

 
    CHAPTER
FOUR
    DAPHNE
    I held onto his arm as we walked. The
night air was cool and refreshing, and I think I may have been sobering up…a
little bit. We hadn’t walked far before he stopped at a two-story house that
looked like it had been converted into walk-up apartments.
    “This is me,” he said. “Would you like to
come in for a cup of coffee?”
    “Oh no! I don’t…I mean, I…” I was suddenly
afraid that “coffee” didn’t mean “coffee.” I don’t do random hook-ups in bars,
but I was just drunk enough not to trust myself not to accept if he offered.
    He laughed. “Coffee is the only thing on
my mind,” he said. “Trust me.” When he looked at me with those soft, warm,
green eyes, I did trust him. It might also be the four drinks on an empty
stomach.
    “Okay, maybe a coffee before I head home.”
    Famous last words.
    “Good,” he said, unlocking the bottom
door. He let us in and we held onto each other and the wall as we made our way
up the stairs to the second floor.
    The heat and feel of his body on the
narrow staircase overwhelmed all of my senses. If I’d had any left, I would
have gone home right then. When he let go of my arm to unlock his apartment
door, I was trembling.
    He pushed the door open and said, “Welcome
to my humble abode. Excuse the mess; I’m just moving in.” I stepped inside and
looked around. There were boxes everywhere, but it wasn’t really a mess. It was
more of an organized chaos.
    “Where are you moving in from?”  
    “Boston,” he said, making his way to the
small, open kitchen. I watched him make a pot of coffee. He filled out his
jeans so nicely.
    “Oh,” I said, not telling him I’d just
moved from Boston, too. The next obvious question would be why and I was
definitely not going to discuss that with a stranger.
    “I have to pee.” That was the second time
I’d spoken to this man about my bladder. That was another good reason for me to
never drink again.
    He laughed. I really liked the sound of
it. I also loved the dimples and the little laugh lines around his eyes. “Follow
me,” he said.
    He led me a few steps down a short hall
and we turned into what I could only assume was his bedroom. The bathroom was
through the bedroom. Strange set up—and convenient if you were trying to get
into a drunken girl’s pants.
    I narrowed my eyes to let him know I was
onto him. Unfortunately, my bladder was too full to back out. I wobbled into
the bathroom and closed the door. There were still boxes on the counter in there,
too. I thought about snooping through them, but he was probably still standing
there waiting for me. I didn’t want to get caught.
    I locked the door and pulled up my skirt.
I started to sit down and suddenly remembered my panties. I pulled those down
and sat. I did my business, washed my hands, and found the hot guy standing in
the same spot waiting for me. I’m not sure why, but I suddenly blurted out,
    “I don’t usually drink!”
    He smiled knowingly and stepped towards
me. “Neither do I,” he said. He was really close. Too close…yet, I didn’t want
him to back