Chapter 15 - A Kiss That Endangers Part 1

Exhilarating.

That’s what Marcus first thought of when his eager lips met Ysabelle’s. He had almost convinced himself that he was already devouring the lunch table’s dessert as she tasted of sweet honeyed strawberries and the curve of her lips were moist and velvety like a chocolate cake. With all the willpower he could muster up, he didn’t use it to stop this moment. Instead, when he found her unsteady, trying to push him lightly away with both of her hands, he snaked a hand in the small of her back and pressed her closer to his body. His back was against the balustrade to stabilize them at least for any possible imbalance. A fall down to the base of the stairs would be unlucky indeed, not to mention painful.

There was still some tiny pang of guilt a priest like him was expected to feel when treading on restricted boundaries, but true enough, it didn’t rack his mind. His logical reasoning was already clouded in the first place. His sole focus was on her, a woman in his arms, and how she tasted in his mouth. He could well be killed by lightning anytime if the Heaven’s above didn’t approve of this, but what the heck, he was ready to die anyway... for her.

For her?

Yes, for her.

And him be damned, he doesn’t even know the reason why.

***

Ysabelle’s brain nearly shut down. Of all the things that should happen, this happened. She had thought of it as an illusion when she saw Father Marcus looking at her with an expression similar to a man looking at his lover. It must be because of the way the morning sunlight glittered the stained glasses of the wall. It must be because of the romantic feel of the grand staircase they were currently managing. Whatever the reason was, she could no longer believe it as an illusion, especially when she felt the warmth of his lips and the thundering heartbeat of his chest against hers.

It was so fast, so sudden. No warning signals or even any clue to inform her what would come next. But she did have an inkling at the back of her mind. A damn clear one. She knew this man’s mouth was about to taste her, and she let him... easily... welcomed him even. No struggling, other than the light push on his chest.

In her lifetime, numerous walls - both metaphorically and figuratively - had been built to keep her safe and secure. Against to what and to whom, she doesn’t know. She was untouched, untainted, the purest of the pure. Until enter one priest - an exorcist priest - in the picture and all of these walls were breached. Ysabelle stood unguarded with it the whole time and yes, this all started since the time she took a picture of him in the plaza square since his kindness warmed her heart...

***

Gaining entrance inside Ysabelle’s mouth wasn’t difficult, it was effortless and this surprised Marcus greatly. She was ever so pliant. His tongue traced the outline of her lips for a moment and then made a swift thrust inside the supple cavern. This elicited a light gasp from her. She grabbed the collar of his black cassock and made a wrinkle out of it in no time.

It was expected that she’d be tensed, her tongue stiff in place when Marcus felt it. However, he cared less of her inadequate response. He continued his own plundering anyway by flicking his tongue and sampling all he could get from her.

But wait.

Why was he French-kissing this woman in the first place? He was inexperienced himself yet he knows how to do this deed... damn well in fact like a Casanova lover. Did the basic instinctual drive of a man kicked in him? Or was the heat of the moment a good educator?

And then, a possible answer to his question came quickly... unexpectedly.

‘Take her...’

A man’s unnatural echoing voice appeared in his head, but it wasn’t just a man’s voice... it was his own. This brought Marcus to snap out of the wonderful moment and pull himself away from the now-puzzled and flustered Ysabelle. He accomplished a safer distance away from her in long strides, ending up in the middle of the grand stairs.

“Oh, no...” Marcus spoke with a pained expression, looking at almost all of the spaces of the foyer except for the woman above him. “I’m sorry that had happened Ms. Ysabelle. It was a catastrophic oversight on my part.”

He waited for her to answer, but there was silence, so he spoke again.

“I...take it you would like to slap me.”

Venturing to steal a brief look, what he saw in her was typical for a woman kissed in the most abrupt way possible. Her face was devoid of anything except puzzlement. Mouth slightly open and even though she wasn’t putting any lipstick, her lips looked red... or swollen - as probably the better word. She had her right hand pressed the center of her chest, the other dangling in the side with fingers trembling.

God, how he was in such a mess right now. She must be completely shaken.

“I would have, ” Ysabelle then broke the silence, voice shaky but with a rough volume, “if you didn’t scurry all the way there! I would have!”

And with just that, Marcus realized how deeply-seated her anger was directed at him.

“I will take full responsibility of it, Ms. Ysabelle, ” he then answered, walking back up the stairs to reach her and level their faces. The whole time he did so, his head was held high, his shoulders straight and his eyes boreal. He didn’t seem affected by the fact that Ysabelle was now scowling at him. Scowling but with the subtle hint of apprehension when her eyes diverted to the floor briefly when he arrived a stair away from her.

“Slap me... please. Twice in my cheeks would be good, ” Marcus stated with utmost sincerity. “I deserve it. As a priest, it is already condemnable to touch a woman, much less kiss her. I did both.”

“Then, why did you kiss me?” was Ysabelle’s question then to which Marcus didn’t expect at all. Her voice came down from being angry to soft-spoken as if she was looking for something... in herself... or in his answer... a warmth maybe... that would somehow, somehow straighten her chaotic lifetime of emotions.

“I don’t know, ” Marcus said without delay. He didn’t contemplate on it or even waited for a better answer for his mind to conjure. He just blurted out the words that he could produce at the spur of the moment.

But it was the truth. He of course didn’t know why he kissed her. He was loyal to his vows, set on being celibate on the feel and company of a woman. He never once dared to look at a woman with desire in his eyes. He never once dared to think of the opposite sex as more than a good friend. Never once, not until this mysterious beauty clicked her way into the picture... into his life... with an undeniable attraction that could only be called dangerous.

“You...don’t know, ” Ysabelle spoke, biting the words out. She couldn’t decide whether she cared less of his answer or the words somehow tore a flesh in her heart.

“Yes, I don’t know, but I apologize. Deeply. Heartily Ms. Ysabelle. I truly am. I’ve been out of myself lately, ever since...” His eyes drifted to the floor and this time, he contemplated how to finish it. Ysabelle was all ears, observing the way his eyes suddenly flinched. “Since...” I exorcised the demon out of André. He would have wanted to tell her that but commonsense and realization told him not to. “Since I arrived in Prague. I haven’t had time to rest.”

Great! What a lame excuse. Considering he was unconscious for the past two days and had a fever even, he had been resting in bed the whole time. Surely, it was enough time to rest.

Ysabelle, unable to criticize his crystal clear lying, just shook her head.

Marcus noticed it and found himself in a tight spot. He was such a fool to even think of that as an acceptable reason. He would have apologized to her once again, but then Ysabelle was already stepping down the stairs, leaving him behind.

“Wait, you forgot to do something, ” was what he said, trying to stop her.

Before Ysabelle could reach the base of the stairs, she turned back to face him, expression neutral. “So you know, I am not a sadist Father Marcus. You just got back from a two-day rest and a fever, I suppose it is proper of me not to worsen your health.”

How nice of her to point that out.

Marcus was taken aback by her level of frankness. It was clear that she was offended by his earlier intimate actions without consent. It worried him, yes, but somehow, the way her expression changed affected him more. He preferred her blushing and pliant under his gaze rather than her with a blank, inscrutable face.

Oh, God. If this is temptation, prepare a coffin for me now.

He stayed rooted in place for a long five minutes, crossing his arms in his chest, closing his eyes, and deep breathing. The silence of the foyer was helpful. It made him meditate for a while, enough to be able to keep his unauthorized running emotions in tight check. The emotions that had particularly freed itself during and after kissing Ysabelle: guilt and desire.