The poor girl looked like a deer in headlights when I proposed. It wasn’t the sort of proposal I ever imagined offering. I was the type to book my beloved’s favorite restaurant, pick out the perfect ring, maybe even hire a string quartet to accompany my well-rehearsed declaration of love.

But that’s not how it happened.

No, I’d impulsively let my dick do the talking. For the first time in my life, actually. Most guys did that all the time. Starting in middle school I watched my friends lose their minds over girls and do asinine things.

I spent hours listening to the problems of parishioners who did the same thing. They made poor decisions, strayed from their wives, even committed crimes, all because they let a woman cloud their judgment with lust. And now I’d fallen prey to the same affliction.

And even as I saw it happen, I was powerless to stop it.

I wanted Chloe Thomas, and I was desperate to have her. I wanted nothing more than to bury my neglected cock inside her and make her mine every night until the end of time.

I knew she’d never be a typical preacher’s wife. But, was that really a requirement? Did I have to settle down with an uptight, prim and proper woman just because it was expected of me? I wasn’t usually a rebel.

I obeyed the ten commandments to the best of my ability. I believed in all that was right and holy, advocated for the downtrodden, stood up for the little man. I worked to feed the poor and guide those who needed counsel. My life was devoted to the service of others . . . so why couldn’t I have the one thing I desired? A woman who made me feel alive.

I was pretty sure Jesus felt similar stirrings for Mary Magdalene. He would have understood another man’s thirst for human companionship that made his heart come alive. Wouldn’t I be a better priest if those needs were quenched, if I felt fulfilled? How was I to pour wine if the receptacle was empty? Wouldn’t I have more to give if my heart were full?

These were justifications, I knew, but I held fast to them. For me, Chloe had become a symbol for all that was strong and wild and free, and I’d just proved I was incapable of controlling my lust where she was concerned. I had to have her, by whatever means necessary, and I knew to be able to live with myself it had to be within the bonds of marriage.

To my grave disappointment, she didn’t feel the same way. Oh, I believe she would have allowed me to take her. She’d have given in to the pure animal attraction that raged between us, but that wasn’t what I was asking of her, and that was the sticking point. She stared at me with disbelieving eyes, her hair disheveled from the orgasm that had just rocked her body.

Watching her come like that only fed my desire to own her, and made my cock hard as steel.

“I can’t marry you,” she was saying, only I’d chosen not to listen.

“You will,” I answered simply. “I cannot go another day without you. I have to make you mine. Surely, you see that. Surely you feel the same way.”

“I mean, that was fun and all, but I don’t want to marry anyone.”

I stood silent, the loneliness of her words seeping into my marrow, fighting a despair so deep it threatened to break me.

“I enjoy your company, Eduardo. I’m attracted to you, but we want different things. I’m focused on my business now. That’s all I care about at the moment. I can’t be somebody’s wife, much less the wife of a priest.”

“It doesn’t have to affect your work. You can do both.”

She shook her head, and my stomach felt like it was rotting.

“There are no rules about being the wife of a priest. It’s legal. In fact, it’s preferable for a priest to have a help meet. The Lord didn’t intend us to walk our path alone.”

“See? I don’t know about all that . . .”

I took her in my arms, “Ah, but I do. I know that you were meant for me. I’ve known it from the moment I saw you. You are everything I lack, the flame to my kindling, the oxygen for my lungs.”

She hugged me back, not speaking, and I wondered if I had gotten through to her.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” she said, kissing me on the cheek.

Then she was gone, and I was left all alone.

The flickering light from the candles seemed to mock me.

I’d spent my adult life giving to others.

Like a petulant child, I wanted it to be my turn.

I straightened my shirt. It had been foolish to think I could have a woman like Chloe.

Fierce, independent women these days didn’t want a man they saw as stodgy and traditional. A man who’d committed his life to the priesthood wasn’t a man who could commit to them, at least that’s what they thought.

Of course there were the usual preacher’s wife candidates. They brought me casseroles, flirted with me at the after services, and fell all over each other to heed any committee I dreamed up. But they left me cold.

I had no desire for a fawning partner who was also committed to the church. God forgive me, I wanted the opposite. I wanted a raw and dirty girl who would challenge me every day of my life.

Lord help me, I wanted a sinner I could save.

Someone who could save me in return.

I wanted Chloe Thomas.

And dammit, I was going to have her.