Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I felt a little shy about everything we’d done. Well, more than a little. I felt a lot shy. But I didn’t exactly regret it, either.
I kept telling myself that he’d be gone in a few weeks, anyway. That I wouldn’t have to face him day after day, knowing that he had intimate knowledge of every inch of me—literally. That I’d finally given into this crazy fascination I had with the man, the crazy push and pull I felt toward him. That he’d thoroughly initiated me and now we could both move on.
We had to be out of each other’s system by now, right? One night of passion should do it. We could both get back to work managing the church and doing our best to help the people who lived around here.
So, the sex had been mind-bendingly good, but we didn’t have to do it again. It was time to stop. I’d kiss him goodbye and tell him never again.
But . . . maybe I was being too hasty. I didn’t have to call it off, or at least not until Paul came back, I decided. I wouldn’t mind being ‘initiated’ a few times more.
Preacher sat on the bed and looked at me. He was as bare as the day he was born. Somehow, his body hair and long waves made him look even more naked. So . . . male. And that giant member of his was pointing at me again.
“Don’t you want . . . pants?” I asked. I grabbed my nightgown from under my pillow and was tugging it over my head when the fabric was yanked away.
“What?”
“No need for clothes between us. Secrets either. Not now.”
“Oh.”
I stared at him, not sure what he was after. I’d thought he just wanted sex. But now he wanted to talk?
Preacher was one hundred percent a mystery.
“Eyes up here, missy,” he joked in his gravelly voice.
I blushed bright red. It was true. My eyes had been wandering. It was hard to look away from his broad shoulders, hard chest, flat belly . . . those narrow hips, thick thighs, and that giant . . . well, you know.
I tossed a pillow at him.
“Cover yourself up, then.”
He chuckled and placed the pillow over his crotch. His ink covered chest and shoulders were still visible, golden and tanned and muscular. Not to mention his thighs and calves. The man’s legs were like tree trunks. Even Preacher’s feet were sexy. Big and manly and well-made.
His handsome face was relaxed, his sensual lips parted slightly as he stared right at me with those unnervingly perceptive blue eyes.
“Better?” he asked with a smug smile. I nodded curtly, already feeling the urge to argue with him returning. Fuck or fight, that’s what Preacher made me want to do. I wasn’t so sure I liked that.
“Tell me.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, still feeling one hundred percent naked under the blankets. More than a hundred percent naked. A thousand percent naked.
He’s seen everything, I reminded myself. Felt everything. Tasted everything.
And just like that, I was blushing head to toe again.
“What?”
“The one who hurt you. Tell me what he did.”
“It was a long time ago,” I said defensively. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” he countered. Ugh.
“Do I have to?” I groaned, sliding down my pillow. “I’d rather not.”
“Yes, you have to.”
“Why?” I asked, sounding like a child. Preacher made me feel that way, I realized. Young and foolish compared to his steady confidence. But he made me feel beautiful and special and desired too.
And he listened to me, whether I wanted him to or not.
Like right now, it was a definite not.
“There are a couple of reasons, but number one is that I need you to trust me.” He brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “It’s time we started talking about the real stuff.”
“So, you’ll tell me why you’re angry with God?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Yes, darlin’. I will.”
I sighed and sat up, keeping the blankets tucked under my arms. I scooted back against the pillows and rested my head against the headboard.
“Zach was . . . everything I wasn’t. Popular. Gorgeous. Captain of the football team.” I sighed, then spilled everything. The awkward first few times we’d talked. How patient he had been with me. How he’d charmed me and my single mother—not an easy feat in and of itself.
Preacher listened, his focus entirely on me. He never wavered and he didn’t interrupt to ask questions. Not until I stopped talking.
“What did he do to you?”
I shivered at the scary look on Preacher’s face. He looked exactly like one of those guys in an old Western who was about to draw and shoot. I was flattered and a little scared at the same time.
But not for me. For Zach. Or anyone who messed with me.
Preacher was a protector, I realized. He would do anything to take care of the people he cared about. Apparently, I was on that list.