Lord give me strength.
“So,” he purrs. “What say you and I go back to bed, huh?”
I close my eyes, shivering as the nearness of him and forcing the words to come to my lips. “My name is Evangeline,” I say pointedly. I gasp as he takes my hand, and suddenly brings it to his lips. He kisses it, and I can feel traitorous, wicked heat that blooms in places it should not be at the feel of his stubble and his soft lips across the skin of my hand.
“Well it’s a pleasure to met you, I’m-”
“Evangeline Ellis.”
He freezes, and then suddenly takes a big step back from me.
“Oh, fuck.”
The sharpness and the crassness of his words, drags my eyes down, and suddenly, they lock onto his.
“Fuck me fucking sideways.”
His eyes burn into me as the clarity washes over his face. “You’re the fucking preacher’s daughter.”
“That is what I have been trying to tell you,” I spit back.
But then suddenly, the shock drops from his face.
His arms comes up again, his muscles rippling as he shoves his hair back with his fingers.
And he grins at me.
“Well damn,” he says with that cocksure, arrogant look on his face.
Damn indeed.
Damnation.
Chapter Two
Rowan
Well fuck.
There’s a vague recollection that comes filtering back into my foggy brain of my dad calling me at some fucking ungodly hour this morning — something about the rental house of his I’ve been fixing up for the Ellis family — something about someone stopping by for the key to the place.
The “someone” I was expecting was sure as hell not her.
Soft blue eyes, light blonde hair, just a smattering of freckles across her nose. The white dress, the silver cross on the chain around her neck.
A damn angel, and yet, the last angel in the world to pull shit like this with.
Evangeline Ellis — preacher’s daughter.
And I’m fucking standing in front of her buck-naked with my cock out.
Master of first impressions that I am.
“You’re here for the key.”
“Yes,” she says exasperatedly.
She looks uncomfortable. Well, no, that’s putting it lightly. She looks like something between a scared church mouse and someone who just saw blood for the first time.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Do you mind?”
“Mind what?”
“Clothes. Please,” she says, wrinkling her brow crossly and pointedly looking away from me.
Oh this is good.
This is real good.
You know how they always say people will surprise you in ways you don’t expect? Well, what I love is when someone is exactly who you think they’re going to be. And Ms. Holy Roller here is every fucking inch what I expected when Dad let me know she and her folks were coming to town.
Prim, proper, high-strung. A little fucking cross around her neck, because of course there is.
But then, that’s where the expected stops, and the unexpected comes up to slap me in the face. The uptightness? The prudish behavior? Yeah, those I expected from the daughter of the deep-south Georgia preacher.
The rest of it, I was not.
There’s the fact that she’s stunning. There’s the fact that her white sundress fits probably a bit too well — more than I’m betting she thinks it does. There’s that long blonde hair, glowing around her face from the sun coming in through the dingy hallway window. Pouty lips, big blue eyes that I’m sure are pretty when they aren’t scowling.
Shit.
On the one hand, preacher girl is everything I expected. But on the other?
On the other hand, she’s fucking hot, and that I was not expecting.
Not by a damn mile.
She whirls back away from me, crossing her hands over her chest. But that sunlight coming in also happens to be shining right through that white dress, giving me more of a glimpse than I’m betting she wants to.
I decide to keep the little gem to myself.
“Um, please?”
I shake my head, dragging my eyes up from checking out the way the light comes through that dress between her thighs to the back of her I’m sure still scowling face.
“Yes?”
“Look, I just need the key, and could you please put some clothes on?!” she says with a shrillness to her voice.
I grin. “What’s that? Sorry, you know it’s impolite to talk looking away from someone when you’re addressing them.”
“You aren’t wearing pants,” she says, her voice quavering.
She actually sounds upset.
“It’s just a dick, sweetheart.”
“Mr. Hammond! Please!” she says tightly.
I grin, shaking my head. “Okay, okay, chill.”
I frown, turning and grabbing a pair of jeans off the back of my office chair.