Because I don’t trust myself. Because if I look at you, I’m not sure I’ll ever look away.
“What’s your question?” I breathe.
I gasp as his hand comes up and his knuckles brush my chin. He tilts my head up gently, and my body trembles as my gaze slides up over his bare legs, the tiny towel, the sinfully grooved hips and abs, his rock-hard, tattooed chest, and then finally, his devilishly, wickedly gorgeous face. My eyes lock with his, and pure heat teases through my very soul.
“Why’d you get all dressed up to come here tonight?”
I blush fiercely. “I—I did no such—”
“The sales tag is still on your skirt, sweetheart,” he growls.
My face burns, and my breath catches hotly in my throat.
“I—”
“Now, to me,” he purrs. “That says that maybe you wanted to come see me.”
“I did not,” I whisper breathlessly.
“Maybe you know I’m wicked, and maybe that excites you.”
I gasp, scandalized, my eyes widening. “You—”
“Maybe a good girl like you is a little tired of being so. Fucking. Good,” he growls deeply, making me gasp as his wicked words slide over my skin. He steps closer to me, his fingers still on my chin, and I can feel the heat of his practically bare body radiating against mine with him barely an inch away from me.
“Please—”
“Maybe,” he purrs thickly. “Just maybe, someone like me makes you want to try a little sin.”
“Gabriel—”
I’m spiraling. His wicked words, and the heat of him, and those captivating eyes are making my head spin and making me lose control. He’s sinking his claws deeper into me, leading me further into temptation and sin. But the most sinful part of it isn’t him.
It’s me.
It’s that I don’t want him to stop.
“So what do you think, Delilah,” he purrs. His fingers slide up the edge of my jaw, and I whimper as his big, strong hand cups my cheek. His eyes blaze blue hellfire into mine, and I can feel heat just melting through my body.
“Maybe it’s that a little bad, and a little sin turns you the fuck on.”
I whimper. It’s not a scandalized gasp. It’s not a shocked expression of horror and disdain.
…It’s the sound of my soul giving in to the temptations of the flesh. It’s the sound of me letting go.
“Gabriel,” I whisper.
He groans, and his body moves right against mine. His muscles ripple against me, and his hand slides around my waist to cup the small of my back.
“Why don’t we find out,” he growls. And suddenly, he leans in, and his lips sear to mine.
Hard.
I’ve always imagined that falling into sin or finding yourself headed to Hell would be a horror of pain and suffering. I know now that I was lied to. Falling into sin is pleasure, and warmth. It’s my heart racing faster than it’s ever raced before. It’s my very skin tingling and aching to be touched. It’s my lips against his perfect mouth, and his tongue finding mine.
Falling into sin is more like sinking into bliss, and I never want to stop.
The crickets chirp around us, the muggy Georgia summer night drapes us in damp heat, and my traitorous body pushes against his wantonly and brazenly. Gabriel’s big hand slides down the small of my back, and I whimper when it slides lower to grip my butt through my skirt. I whimper—not run, not slap him, not gasp in shock and horror.