Free Sweetest Sin: A Forbidden Priest Romance by Sosie Frost Page B

priest. I shifted lower in my seat.
    Did that make me seem
guilty?
    Father Raphael
welcomed their attention. “I have a couple priest friends who formed choirs
from their youth groups and congregations.” He shrugged. “They’ve won trips to
Disney. I figured, why not try that here?”
    “How…” Alyssa
hummed. “ Secular .”
    Deacon Smith
cleared his throat. “Okay. Line up. Who’s first?”
    A few hands rose,
but not mine. I breathed deep. A mistake.
    Why did Father
Raphael smell so…divine? Sandalwood and incense and something else. Cedar? A
woody, tangible scent that watered my mouth and would linger in my dreams that
night.
    His voice didn’t
help, a quiet admittance only for me to hear. “Are you nervous?”
    “Yes.”
    “About the
audition?”
    Sure. That was
easier to admit. “I haven’t soloed in a long time.”
    “I have faith in
you.”
    “Do you?” I didn’t
know whether to stare ahead at the linen-draped altar or cast a glance to the
black robes at my side.
    “Of course I do. I
have the most faith in you, Honor.”
    “How?”
    His smile was
unexpected but not unwelcomed. “I’d lose faith in myself before you.”
    That was what we
both feared.
    The organ strummed Ava Maria . A loud and sharp middle aged woman took to the stairs, an
octave too high and a beat too late.
    I thumbed through
my duffel bag and pulled out five different songs I’d previously memorized
during choir in high school and college. He glanced at the music, made a face,
and tossed out Wither Thou Goest.
    “Narrowing it
down?” I asked.
    “Trying to help,”
he said.
    “You haven’t heard
me sing before.”
    “Honor, every word
from your lips is a song to me.”
    I warmed head to
toe, but I refused to let his words distract me. I spent too many minutes,
hours, days, and now weeks in adoration of him instead of the church. I
breathed deeply, ignored his scent, and pretended he was any other man, any
other friend, anyone but him.
    “Which song is
your favorite?” I asked.
    “ Dream On by Aerosmith.”
    I nearly laughed.
“I don’t think that will work today.”
    “I’ve always liked Pie Jesu , despite the circumstances in which it’s sung.”
    “Me too.”
    Father Raphael
paused as the singer missed a note. I knew he looked at me, but I stared only
at the music, wondering how badly I must have been trembling to blur the notes
on the page.
    “You don’t want to
talk with me, do you?” he asked.
    That depended.
Would it appear too suspicious if we spoke this much? Or would it look worse if
we weren’t talking? Did I trust myself enough to have an innocent
conversation with him without dreaming of what hardened under his cassock?
    I politely clapped
as the woman auditioning finished her song. Deacon Smith called for the next
audition. The organ once again strummed Ava Maria , and he shrugged. One
of the high school tenors sang.
    The music filled
the sanctuary, and I felt safer speaking.
    “Do you know that
you have a reputation here, Father?” I lowered my voice. “You’re known as Daddy
El .”
    He smirked. “I
know.”
    I figured as much.
“Does it bother you?”
    “I consider it
another challenge to my collar. Believe me, Honor. Your friends are not the
first to show some leg in exchange for a little indulgence .”
    “Really?”
    “Of course. And
I’ve resisted each one.” His jaw tensed, a solid and forceful strike of
strength across his stoic face. “Except for you.”
    “I haven’t asked
for any indulgences.”
    “Which makes you
all the more dangerous.”
    The tenor finished
his song. The next singer also began Ava Maria . Deacon Smith groaned,
his head in his hands.
    “Guys, we have
more hymns! The church has been around for two thousand years . Please tell me someone knows another song.”
    No one moved.
Deacon Smith almost tore the rest of his hair out.
    “ Honor !” He
pleaded for me. “Do you have a piece to sing that isn’t Ava Maria ?”
    The others
scrambled over the