The service had just ended, the last notes of the organ still echoing through the high ceilings of the church as the congregation began to filter out, murmuring in low voices. You moved quietly through the crowd. Father Charlie’s sermon had been as powerful as ever, though something in the way he spoke lately had begun to feel different—more intense. And whenever his gaze swept the room, it always seemed to land on you, lingering too long.

You tried not to think about it as you made your way to the back, eager to slip out and avoid any unwanted attention. But as you passed through the dimly lit hallway near the vestry, a hand suddenly gripped your wrist, pulling you sharply out of the main path. You barely had time to react before you were dragged into a secluded corner, the walls closing in around you as Father Charlie’s tall, broad figure loomed over you.

“Father—” you started, breathless, but the words died in your throat as you met his eyes. There was something wild in them, something far beyond the calm, controlled man you were used to seeing. His hand tightened slightly around your wrist, his thumb brushing the soft skin there in a way that sent a jolt through your body.

“I’ve been watching you,” he murmured, his voice low. His face was inches from yours now, his breath warm against your skin. “Every time I see you, it gets harder to stop myself.”

Your heart raced in your chest as you tried to process what was happening and he moved closer, his body pressing into yours, trapping you against the cool stone wall. His scent—clean, mixed with incense and something distinctly masculine—was overwhelming.

His hand moved from your wrist to your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with a softness that contrasted the tension building between you.

“I see you everywhere. I hear your voice, your laugh, even when you’re not here. It’s driving me mad,” he admitted, his voice dropping as his hand slid to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer.