“So?” I mutter once she stops and turns to me.
“So, I’ve been thinking.”
I unzip my big white “preacher” robe and toss it over the back of a chair. I fold my arms over my chest, and when she doesn’t continue, I arch a brow.
“Is this a guessing game?”
She blushes. “No, no. I—I’ve been thinking about…” her blush deepens. “About last night,” she breathes.
The beast stirs inside of me. “Which part?” I growl.
“All the parts,” she says quietly, her eyes sparking.
“And?” I grunt, stepping closer to her.
Delilah swallows, and her teeth rake over her lower lip. “And I’ve come to some conclusions.”
“Enlighten me, please?”
Her eyes dart over me. “I’ve decided that I was right. You are a wicked, probably sinful man, and I don’t believe that you’re truly a preacher.”
I frown, and my jaw clenches. Well, that’s it—the jig is up. If she hasn’t already told her parents and maybe even the local cops, she will, and that means I need to get three states away, pronto.
There’s another part to it too, though. The thing is, I don’t just lust over Delilah, though, I very much do. But it’s not just that. There’s more to it, even if I’m not entirely sure what or why or how it is a guy like me with no discernible soul or morals can even feel that.
But it is what it is, and now it’s time to get the fuck out of dodge.
“Nice to meet you, Delilah,” I growl. I turn to go start packing my shit, when her soft hand touches my arm.
“But,” she whispers.
My cock twitches. There’s just enough of a little… something to that “but” that has my nerves tingling, my jaw clenching, and my lust for her rising.
“But I’ve made peace with that.”
I frown. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I know you’re a wicked man, but I also know that the world won’t always be a place like Canaan. I know next year, when I finally get to college, I’ll be in places and around people who aren’t… well, who aren’t what I’m used to.”
I sigh. “So, what, you want to take ‘evil’ lessons from me so you’re prepared for the wickedness of frat parties and beer pong?”
I start to turn to walk away from this nonsense, when her soft voice stops me cold.
“Yes.”
I freeze. I blink, and I slowly turn to her, one brow arched. “Excuse me?”
“Yes,” she says quietly, blushing as she twists her fingers together. “I—I know you’re lying to everyone about being a preacher, which is, well, pretty bad.”
I frown.
“But I also understand that you’re just doing it for money, not out of pure evilness or anything. So, it’s bad, but it’s not necessarily wickedness, I guess.”
“So you don’t think I’m the Devil?” I say dryly.
“I think you’re a devilish man,” she breathes. “But I don’t think you’re Satan himself.”
“Shit, I must be slipping.”