Gabriel's POV
I told myself it was a moment of weakness.
One catastrophic lapse in judgment that I could pray my way through, that I could bury deep enough that it would eventually fade into nothing more than a shameful memory. I'd broken my vows once—spectacularly, blasphemously—but that didn't mean I had to break them again.
Except I couldn't stop thinking about her.
About the way Elena had looked at me with those dark eyes full of want and defiance. About the sounds she'd made when I was inside her, the way her body had felt pressed against mine, the taste of her mouth, the smell of her perfume mixed with incense and sin.
About how, for those few minutes against that confessional booth, I hadn't felt like Father Gabriel—the priest, the holy man, the servant of God. I'd just felt li
