Page 72 of Lust

I can’t believe I’m here.

The warmth of his breath tickles the back of my neck. His big arms are wrapped snuggly around me like he’s afraid if he lets go, I’ll sneak away into the darkness.

He’d never let me, and the thought is like champagne fizzing through my veins. I smile to myself as I wiggle my butt against his hips.

“You need to get some sleep.” His voice is just a little scolding, which makes my tummy flutter. I used to imagine him like this every Saturday night service when I heard that delicious voice of his.

It turns out his voice is different. It’s stern, yes, but it’s also sweet. Affectionate.

Maybe this voice is just for me.

“How can I sleep when you’re so good at making me come?”

He lets out a low growl. “Maybe I won’t let you come again if you don’t sleep. Did you consider that, young lady?”

I sigh as I let my cheek press against his biceps and stroke his forearm with my fingers.

This is heaven.

But how long will it last?

Not long, probably. When morning comes, he’ll tell me that it was a huge mistake. That he never should have crossed this line. He might even tell me that he took advantage of me again, and I’ll have to force myself not to roll my eyes.

Oh well. For now, I’ll enjoy it.

I smile. “Holy shit, you’re good with your fingers. I don’t think a guy has ever gotten me off with just his hands before you. Men are usually so bad at it.”

He squeezes me tightly. “I don’t want to hear about other men, young lady.”

My laughter is raspy from lack of sleep. “Even when I tell you they were bad at making me come?”

His warm mouth brushes against my cheek. “I don’t want to hear about theboyswho touched you before me.”

I giggle. “My big strong boss daddy.”

His palm slides over my bare ass before giving it a firm little pat. “Somehow I feel like you’re making fun of me.”

“Never. All I could think about when you were fucking me was how many times I imagined it while I was sitting in church watching you preach.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling rhythmically against my back. “And I was thinking about Machu Picchu.”

I gasp out a laugh. “What?”

“I hiked it just a bit after I became a Christian.” The warm, rough pads of his fingers brush from my forehead over my scalp.

I flip around so that I can look at him. The room is dark, but a lamplight from outside casts shadows over the angles of his face. “I’ve always wanted to hike the Inca Trail. My dad did it after law school, and he said it was incredible.”

Even in the darkness I can make out his smile. “He’s the reason I did it. He told me about it when he was trying to bring me to Christ. Said he couldn’t imagine that all that beauty could be random. It has to be the hand of God.”

I snort. “I see he likes to play the old hits. He said that exact same thing to me when I was a kid asking him to prove the existence of God.”

“My little skeptic.” He brushes my cheek with his fingers. “I don’t need proof of God, but I can see what he meant. It’s a long hike. Several days. You’re surrounded by green and mist for a lot of it. You start to feel like you’re in another world after a while. At times, I felt like God was walking beside me. My mom, too. It was the most divine experience of my life.” He brushes his lips against my cheek. “Until tonight.”

Warm rushes through me, making my head fuzzy. He must be teasing me. There’s no way he can really mean that.

“What…” My pulse pounds like a hammer against my throat. “What’s going to happen, Brandon? Between us, I mean.”

His smile fades into the shadows. “Mari.”

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