She nods, her fingers tightening against my skin, her body arching to meet mine, and her eyes burning into mine.
"I need you to fuck me, not give me a lecture."
My eyes narrow as her eyes glint fiercely and mischievously up at me. She knows what she's doing. She's baiting me. Pushing me. Tempting me.
Fuck, she's been tempting me since the day she walked into my life.
"So, are you going to? Or are you just going to keep talk- oh … "
Her words fail, and the moan catches in her throat as I press against her - not inside, but right there, waiting to slip in.
She swallows, her eyes wide and that sass from a second earlier failing her.
Our eyes lock, and she nods. "Do it."
Her legs around my waist, the silver cross between her breasts, the pure innocence on that face - it's more than I can handle, and it's more than I can resist.
I brace myself, ready to slide all the way in.
Ready to take her.
Ready to claim her, and mark her as mine.
"Oh God, Rowan", she breathes into the darkness, like a whispered prayer.
Muscles tense as I ease my hips forward, the head of my cock grazing against the sweet, slick heat between her legs …
And that's when I hear the metallic click of the hammer being drawn.
That's when I feel the cold steel of the gun against the back of my head.
And that's when it all comes crashing down.
Chapter One
Evangeline
I shouldn't be here.
I need to be here, of course, to get the key so that we can get into the rental house when my father gets back from the church. But that doesn't mean I should be.
I shouldn't be anywhere near a place like this, actually.
I look at the single key in my hand, poised at the lock, and then glance up at the front of the dingy building I'm standing in front of. It's red clapboard, with white trim, and large sign that reads "O'Donnell's" across it, with a little green shamrock where the apostrophe should be. It might've been charming in some past era, but the dinginess of the sign, the general dirtiness of the building, and the grime on the windows takes any semblance of that away.
O'Donnell's is, as they say, a dive bar.
I wrinkle my nose at the smell of stale beer, glancing down at the smashed glass on the sidewalk beside my sandaled feet. I shift over a few inches, careful not to let the hem of my white dress brush against the dirty wall of the bar.
Again, I shouldn't be here. Sandaled feet, white sundress - father-approved of course in both length and modesty - the silver cross my mother gave me three years ago for my eighteenth birthday hanging by a small chain around my neck.
‘Out of place' doesn't quite cut it.
But again, I'm here for a reason, and it isn't to stand outside here wrinkling my brow at all the reasons I'd never be caught dead in a place like this. I slip the key into the door lock, turn it with a click, and step into the dim interior of the bar.
And I thought the outside was dirty.
The inside is a dump. I gingerly step over another smashed bottle, side-stepping a puddle of something that smells like rubbing alcohol as I glance around the empty bar.
"Hello?"
There's no response, so I call out again.
"Hello? Hi, Rowan? I'm here for the key?"
The key to the rental house. That's all I need here and then I am getting myself away from this place as quickly as possible. I pocket the key that the Reverend Jacob Hammond - friend of my father's and the whole reason we're here - gave me to his son's bar.
I shake my head. A reverend's son who owns a bar? One that looks like this?
Now that's an interesting one.
"Hello?" I sigh as I call into the silence again, glancing around the room. Turned off neon signs, framed posters and jerseys for some sort of sports team, a paper flyer advertising live music every other Friday night.
Reverend Hammond assured me that his son knew I was stopping by to get the key to the rental house of his where my family and I will be staying while we're in Shelter Harbor these next couple of months.
Months, yikes.
It feels weird, thinking of it like that, even if I knew it was happening for a while now. I've known about it ever since my father's old friend from seminary school asked him if he'd like to relocate up to Massachusetts for a few months to help oversee the opening of a ministries outreach and homeless shelter in the next town over. And seeing as my father's church was still closed due to damage from the fire over the summer, he'd jumped at the chance.
"Where there is sin, so shall be I. For His flock is my duty to tend."
And so we're here. Me, my mother, my father, and Chastity, a girl my age and the daughter of one of my father's parishioners, ready to roll up our sleeves and help.
"Months" does seem like a while, but then, a few months here will be exactly what I need after the breakup.
Well, "breakup" is what my father and mother keep calling it, even if I'd prefer to call it "Joseph leaving me for someone else while I was off doing missionary work". I might not be very experienced when it comes to fiancés, but apparently, it's hard to keep one when you're off doing outreach in South Korea.
Even if father's been firm that I should have done more to make sure things were "copacetic" with my future husband.
But now I'm back. Back with a very useless degree in theological studies, short a fiancé - and a job for that matter - and living with my mother and father in a strange new town for the next few months while he works on this project with Reverend Hammond. On the plus side, Shelter Harbor, north of Boston, does seem like a very sweet town, however different it is from Christ Redeemer Township, Georgia.
A nice town, that is, aside from this place.
"Hello?" I call out again, wrinkling my nose at the smell of stale beer. I step further into the dim, empty interior. I glance behind the bar before ducking down the back hallway.
"Hello? Rowan? It's Evangeline." I frown as I step down the hall towards a half-cracked doorway. "I'm supposed to get the key to the rental house from you?"
For a moment, I think I hear something, and I stop. "Hello?"
I frown at the silence again. Where is this guy? And what on earth is a minister's son doing in a place like this?
The sound comes muffled again from behind the half-cracked door, and I curiously move down the hallway towards it.
"Rowan?" I push the door open and start to step inside when I suddenly freeze.
Oh. My. God.
The man is completely naked, sprawled across a sofa against the wall of what must be an office of some kind.
My eyes go wide, somehow unable to even look away as my hand flies to my mouth
He's on his stomach, thank the Lord, but it doesn't stop my eyes from being pulled into the sight of him. His shoulders and his arms are covered in swirls of tattoo ink over thick muscles. Brown hair flops over part of his face - turned towards me but with his eyes closed. One hand dangled off the sofa, still half-clutching a mostly empty bottle of something.
I swallow the thick lump in my throat, feeling my heart thump scandalously in my breast. My eyes ignore what my brain is telling them, and start to trail down over his muscled back, down lower, and lower still to the hard curve of his-
Heaven help me.
I suddenly regain control of my senses and force myself to look elsewhere before my eyes can really focus on his bare bottom.
I pointedly look away as I loudly clear my throat.
He mumbles something, stirring a little, but it quickly turns back into even breathing.
I bite my lip, still adamantly looking away.
You've got to be kidding me.
This is Rowan Hammond? This is the man I need to get the spare key to the rental house from? I chance another look, but immediately regret the decision as my eyes drop scandalously back to his backside.
His very muscled, very perfect, very naked-
Stop that!
I quickly turn away, facing the door and admonishing myself for giving in to the wicked temptation of the flesh.
Just get the key. Get the key and get out of this place.
I cough again, louder this time, but it only gets the same mumbled snore as before. I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, reach for the doorknob, and quickly open and slam the door shut.
"Fuck!"
The deep, gritty voice from the man behind me startles me, even if I'm the cause of waking him.
"Who the fuck?"
I chance a glance behind me, and his mouth snaps shut.
He grins.
"Well a good morning to you too, angel," he says in a smooth baritone.
I freeze, head turned toward the man now sitting up on the couch with a sheet over his lap. "I, uh, I need-"
"Didn't see you here last night."
"Oh, no," I shake my head as I turn towards him. "No, I'm just here for-"
"Shoulda stuck around for last call," he chuckles, bringing a hand up and pushing his fingers through his thick brown hair. Dark eyes pierce up into me, standing there frozen in place.
"Man, things got a little crazy last night." He clears his throat, bringing the bottle in his hand up and squinting at it before grimacing and placing it on the floor at his feet. He glances back at me as he lounges back on the sofa, and I swallow again, forcing myself to look up at the wall above his head instead of the way his lean body coils and ripples as he eases his hands behind his head.
"You and me?" He grins, nodding his chin at me. "I think you and me could've had a good time."
I lose the battle to avert my eyes from him, and when I do cave and glance back at him, my face immediately turns bright red. "Oh, no, I don't think so," I say with a frown. "I'm-"