A Beautiful Sin (37 page)

As he stroked my baby bump, he tenderly kissed me and it was the most beautiful and precious moment, something I would commit to memory and paint one day.

The rumble of the truck grew louder and came to a stop just as I parked in my driveway. I met the crew as they carried it inside. I opened the door and told them just where to position it. When they left, I went in search of my lovely wife.

Soft music played in the background, and I found her, covered in paint, as usual.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight as she jumped in my arms.

“Canaan,” she said, slapping playfully at my hands, but I didn’t let go.

Nuzzling her neck, I breathed her name. “Haven.”

Gliding my hands down her sides, I knew she was on board with what I had in mind. I dipped my hand past her elastic waistband and cupped her sex.

“Canaan,” she moaned, writhing against my back.

I molded her heavy breast in my other hand.

“I thought you Catholics couldn’t have sex unless it was to procreate.”

The fact that she could talk only made me work harder. I slipped two fingers inside her and she cried out.

“The Catholic Church isn’t always right. Besides, the Bible requires a husband to keep his wife happy. Are you happy, wife?”

She nodded frantically as I pumped my fingers inside her. Oh, how much I’d learned and fast. I hadn’t told her I’d used my research skills to learn more so I could keep her satisfied.

“On your knees, love.”

She turned in my hold and my fingers left the silky depths of her heat. Her eyes flashed with anticipation as she glided to the ground, her paintbrush forgotten. She unzipped my pants as she went and fisted my cock before sliding her tongue around the head.

I loved her mouth. “We don’t have time for that. On your hands and knees.”

Her wicked smile did all sorts of things to me as I pulled off my shirt and kicked my pants to the side. On my knees, I slid deep inside her, forcing her back to arch in response. I ran my fingertips down the length of her spine before curling my fingers in her hair. I leaned over and kissed her neck.

She was wet and warm. And thank God we were married, because I didn’t have to confess my baser desires in confession. I was allowed sinful thoughts of my glorious wife and her lustful body.

“Canaan, stop teasing me. Your parents will be here any time now with Hannah.”

As much as I loved my daughter, I didn’t want to think about her in this moment. So I sped up my movements.

“I love your breasts. I love being inside you.”

Her response was indistinguishable as I hit that sweet spot. Leaving her breast, I moved to rub her clitoris because I was close. It only took her clamping around me in a vice grip to have me shooting off.

I didn’t want to pull out, but the doorbell rang.

“They’re here,” she sang.

Kissing the smile off her mouth after helping her to her feet, I quickly put on my clothes.

“You have paint on you,” she teased.

“And you should be in labor by now. The doctor said having sex would coax our wayward child out of his mother’s belly.”

“And how do you know it’s a boy?” Haven asked.

“It has to be. I’m sorely outnumbered. God will have some mercy on me.”

She laughed. “Clean up, my dear. Somehow I don’t think my parents will see the beauty in our sexual activities.”

When she stuck her tongue out, I added, “And I’m looking forward to lots of your mouth during the six weeks I’m deprived from being inside you.”

“Were you ever a priest?” she called out after I left the room.

That part of my life felt so foreign to me. Though I had many occasions to call forth the prayers I knew like the back of my hand.

The doorbell rang again. “Coming,” I called out and shook my head, remembering how Haven had shared with me the colloquial uses of that word.

I chuckled more to myself when I pulled the door open. Kathy and Ed greeted me with wide smiles. “Come in.” I laughed again. Good thing Haven hadn’t heard me.

“Oh my, the house is beautiful.”

It had been a labor of love. We’d purchased a fixer-upper in a good neighborhood. Father Tony and Bill helped me along with contractors for the things that were out of my novice’s hands. Macie’s father was a contractor and had showed me how to do things like drywall and tile.

“Just in time. Haven should give birth any day now.”

“And where is my granddaughter?” Kathy asked.

She and her husband, Ed, were Hannah’s honorary grandparents since Haven’s mother had passed long ago.

“My parents should be bringing her any minute.” I gestured toward the door just as the bell rang.

Macie and her parents entered the house with oohs and aahhs. Father Tony and Bill weren’t too long after. Haven had just come from the back freshly dressed when my parents arrived.

“Daddy,” my daughter called out.

Haven frowned, so I kissed her cheek before taking my little princess from my father.

“Mom,” I said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Daddy’s little girl,” Haven muttered. Then she saw it. “What is that?”

Her words and eyes were full of astonishment. I nodded at Father Tony, who’d helped me procure it.

When the drop cloth was removed, Haven sucked in a breath.

“How?” she asked in wonderment.

Macie beat me to Haven’s side. “He got it back.”

Tears spilled from Haven’s eyes and Kathy’s too. The pair shared a hug and a private word I overheard.

“He’s still in jail and he’s lost his badge. He can never take this away from you. And your husband, a true man of God, got it back for you.”

I understood the
he
was Kent. He had gotten the maximum time behind bars, which wasn’t enough time if you asked me. Still, he’d been stripped of his badge, pension and other accolades.

Haven turned her glorious gaze on me. “How did you do it? How’d you find the painting?”

There was something very private in her eyes that let me know I would be given many, many wonderful and personal wifely gifts for accomplishing what she hadn’t been able to.

“Father Tony helped me talk the buyer out of letting it go at a hefty price tag. And I might have promised him you’d paint something spectacular. But I didn’t think you would mind.”

“Is that grandma?” Hannah asked, reaching for her mother.

“It is. I painted that, but Jonathon sold it.”

Before Haven could take our daughter, her face tightened in a grimace and her hand found her belly.

“What is it? Is it time?” Macie asked.

She nodded. “I’ve been having contractions all day, but I thought they were the false kind. My water hasn’t broken yet.”

It didn’t take long for all of that to change. Leaving our family and friends in our house along with our daughter, we knew she’d be in good hands. I threaded my fingers through Haven’s as I drove gingerly to the hospital, trying not to break any speeding laws.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asked quietly from her seat during one of the breaks between contractions.

“Being a priest?” I chanced a glance at her and she nodded while squeezing my hand.

It was a topic that had come up over the last few years since I’d made my decision to leave. I’d had talks with Father Tony and Bill about it before.

“No. I loved being a priest. But I love being a husband and father more.”

“And being a professor, does it fill you the way being a priest did?”

Her eyes looked pained. She still felt guilty for my choices.

“It fills a different place in my heart. I enjoy the questions and debates over the text. I enjoy how the younger generation challenges the archaic views the church has on topics of the day. I enjoy the freedom of questioning the church as well. But there will always be a part of me that is a priest.”

She nodded. At a stoplight she leaned over at a considerable contortion and kissed me.

“What was that for?”

“For being you.”

Our daughter was born a few hours later. I thought Haven was asleep with her eyes closed until she asked, “Can we name her Juliana Susan after our mothers?”

“Yes. I was going to suggest the same.”

“Are you sad we didn’t have a boy?”

I laughed. “Of course not. God only gives us what we can handle. And I can’t say I won’t enjoy trying for a son soon.”

She groaned. And it would take another daughter, Ava, to be born before our son, Joseph, would unleash his holy cry into the world. But at that moment, it was just the three of us.

“Maybe it’s just the hormones,” Haven began. “But are you sure you have no regrets?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely none. And as much suffering as we endured to get here, I would do it again knowing it would bring us together. I love you so much more each and every day. You are my heaven, my angel of mercy on this earth, and no one will convince me otherwise. And maybe our love and our Hannah might have been created in sin. But oh, what a beautiful sin it was.”

THE END

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A.M. Hargrove

One day, on her way home from work as a sales manager, USA Today bestselling author, A. M. Hargrove, realized her life was on fast forward and if she didn't do something soon, it would be too late to write that work of fiction she had been dreaming of her whole life. So she made a quick decision to quit her job and reinvented herself as a Naughty and Nice Romance Author.

Annie fancies herself all of the following: Reader, Writer, Dark Chocolate Lover, Ice Cream Worshipper, Coffee Drinker (swears the coffee, chocolate, and ice cream should be added as part of the USDA food groups), Lover of Grey Goose (and an extra dirty martini), #WalterThePuppy Lover, and if you're ever around her for more than five minutes, you'll find out she's a non-stop talker. Other than loving writing about romance, she loves hanging out with her family and binge watching TV with her husband. You can find out more about her books at
http://www.amhargrove.com
.

Terri E. Laine

Terri E. Laine, USA Today bestselling author, left a lucrative career as a CPA to pursue her love for writing. Outside of her roles as a wife and mother of three, she’s always been a dreamer and as such became an avid reader at a young age.

Many years later, she got a crazy idea to write a novel and set out to try to publish it. With over a dozen titles published under various pen names, the rest is history. Her journey has been a blessing, and a dream realized. She looks forward to many more memories to come.

You can find more about her books at
www.terrielaine.com
.