Lust: Chapter 24

She snores softly, her face pressed against the passenger window, and I can’t help but smile. I tired her out. That’s what happens when a woman comes along who’s too tempting to make a celibacy vow worth keeping.

A part of me knows this is so much more than lust. Mariana feels like she was made for me.

I want to uncover her endlessly, learn her every secret. I want to simply exist with her. Have her become a staple in my home. Someone whose presence I get used to seeing. I want to become so intimate with her that her mere existence will no longer make my heart pound in my chest. Instead, there will be a warm stillness, my restlessness will be gone, because she’ll be a permanent fixture in my life.

Fuck.

I’m in love.

She stirs slightly in her sleep, her lips parting to let out a tiny sigh, and my heart clenches.

Oh God, this pain is a tight fist around my heart that will never let go. I never thought love could feel this way, and I knew it could be painful. I watched my mom slowly fade away. But I’ve never had to let someone go who’s still a part of my life. Years stretch ahead of me. Years of being around this precious woman, but not nearly close enough.

Not close enough to touch.

I reach out and stroke a soft strand of hair that’s escaped the orderly braid. How like Mariana. Sweet and soft and unable to be like everyone else.

I take a deep breath, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. I need more time with her.

Just a little more time.

I know it’s wrong. That shadow in the distance is God’s voice in my heart, telling me I’m being selfish, that I should end it all now. I’m risking more than just my friendship with Hector. I’m risking Mariana’s heart as well.

But I need more time. I think I might die if I don’t have it.

I squeeze Mariana’s thigh, and she jerks up, making a sweet little breathy sound I wish I could record in my mind and store with me forever.

“Darling,” I say. “Sorry to wake you up, but I have to talk to you about something.”

“What?” she asks in a raspy voice.

My fingers clench on the steering wheel. “I want to extend our time together a bit. Let’s have lunch tomorrow. Maybe I could…” I flinch, hating myself for my deliberate sin, but unable to stop myself. “Take you to my house. Make something for you.”

And fuck you raw afterward.

“That sounds great,” she says, and the delight in her voice brings a smile to my face that quickly fades.

It will be over after tomorrow.

It has to be. I already hate myself. In my next conversation with Hector, I’ll update him on my “progress” with Mariana’s faith while blithely ignoring the fact that I just spent the weekend fucking her brains out at a pastor’s conference. It will feel that much worse if I keep doing it behind his back.

I’ve never lied to him before. After all the lies my dad told my mom growing up, I vowed to tell the truth like a witness on the stand after I became a Christian. Turns out my integrity is even more fragile than I thought it was.

Which is even more reason to end things permanently after tomorrow. How could I continue to lead my congregation as a willful sinner?

Fuck, this is misery. Misery and bliss at the same time. I’m itching for tomorrow to begin, and yet dark dread swarms within me like a plague of locusts.