It’s almost like they can smell the sinner hidden under the robes and the bullshit bible verses.
In another life, years ago, I fell into this trap time and time again. But age, and a few brushes with almost getting my nuts shot off by an angry father or husband or whoever, have taught me to stay the fuck away from women like this. And that’s without even counting for the fact that every single inch of my head is being taken up by Delilah Somerset.
I smile calmly at Lizzie. “And what can I do for you this fine evening, Ms. Purcell?”
She sighs. “Well, preacher,” she purrs, batting her eyes. “It’s my mortal soul.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
“Ahh, of course, Ms. Purcell. Well, my tent is open to all, tomorrow morning, first thing.”
She pouts. “Well, Mr. Marsden, I’m just not so sure this can wait until morning. You see, my soul is awfully burdened.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, right, okay.” All I want is peace and quiet. And whiskey. And Delilah slowly riding my cock up and down, I suppose, if we’re getting detailed. I have zero patience or bandwidth for playing stupid flirty games with bored rich girls like Lizzie Purcell.
“Well, what seems to be weighing you down, Ms. Purcell?”
“Sin, preacher.”
It’s so very hard not to roll my eyes again. It’s like it’s the same script, every fucking time with these types of women—the types who want to try and seduce the traveling preacher man.
“Yeah, well, that’ll put a weight on your soul. Tell you what, Ms. Purcell—”
“Please, call me Lizzie.”
“Well, Lizzie, I think first thing tomorrow, you should come on over with some friends, and we can join our prayers together as one and beseech the good lord to unburden you from this sin.”
“It’s carnal, preacher,” she murmurs thickly. “Carnal sin.”
“The world is full of temptation, Lizzie.”
“Tell me about it,” she purrs, her eyes sliding over me again shamelessly. Where the fuck are my pants?
“I surely will,” I smile thinly. “Tomorrow.”
She pouts. “But preacher,” she says softly. “I was surely hoping you could… unburden me tonight.”
“Lizzie—”
She starts to walk towards me, her eyes hooded. “My, my,” she purrs, biting her lip as her eyes slide over me again. “My word did the good Lord do right by you, Gabriel.”
“Lizzie, I need to insist that—”
“Could you unburden me from this sin, preacher?”
“Lizzie—”
“Cleanse my soul?”
“Ms. Purcell—”
“It’s so hot, Preacher Gabriel, being this close to the fires of damnation!”
She reaches for the front tie to her dress, and I groan. “Lizzie—”
“Or maybe that’s just you, Gabriel,” she purrs. She yanks the tie open, and suddenly she shrugs the dress open and off her shoulders to pool at her feet.”
Goddamnit.