Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
But today is special. Word of Preacher Gabriel’s moving sermons hit our town like a wildfire before he even got here. And even if you’re already baptized, papa says, there’s no harm in “getting good with the Lord all over again.” Can’t really argue with that.
My heart beats a little quicker as I hear a deep, melodic and booming voice proclaim “And ye! Thout shall be clean and loved by me anew!”
My, Preacher Gabriel has a lovely voice—strong and confident, and yet so gentle and soothing. It’s sounds like woodsmoke and leather, and maybe a bit like the whiskey Paul keeps hidden in his room above the garage.
“Step forth from the healing waters of His Glory, brother Joseph!” he booms, and my heart flutters as we start to push through the last of the already-dunked crowd.
Papa taps Mary-Beth Coleson’s shoulder, and she turns with a big smile and nods before she steps aside.
“Oh he’s wonderful, Jedediah!” she gushes quietly.
My heart beats faster, and my grin spreads over my face as the excitement grows. Papa takes my arm and pulls me through, and I smile brightly as I look up at the man standing waist-deep in the slightly raised baptism tank.
…My heart skips a beat.
My legs lock.
My smile falters.
A ball of white-hot heat begins to burn inside my very body, and a shiver unlike I’ve ever felt teases over my skin.
The man standing in the baptism tank is dripping wet. Water runs in little drops and rivulets over bulging, rippling muscles—arms like the arms of Samson wielding a jawbone. A chest like Jacob, straining to wrestle God’s own angel.
But that’s where this man of God ceases to be Godly. My eyes drag over his huge form, and the white, see-through undershirt clinging to his muscles, and I feel nothing but sin. I look over the pulse-quickening swirls of tattoo ink across his chest, shoulders, and arms, and my heart skips. I look higher over his chiseled, perfect jaw, and that hard, smirking smile. I look higher, my body trembling, and my eyes finally land on his gorgeous blue ones.
…And he’s looking right at me, with the most intense, piercing, fierce gaze that I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
“You,” he growls softly. I gasp, and my heart feels like it’s creeping into my throat. A heat I’ve never known before tingles through my body in wicked, sinful, impure ways, and I swallow tightly.
“Come here.” The man stares right at me, and he raises a hand to crook two fingers, beckoning me foreword.
I falter for one moment. No shepherd should make his flock weak in the knees with just a look. No man of God should be built for sin, like he is.
…A preacher shouldn’t set the most sinful places of my body aflame with the most wicked, impure desires I’ve ever felt in my life.
His eyes blaze into mine, and he smiles. I can’t tell if it’s an innocent one, or one that says he knows damn well that he’s corrupting my mortal soul with one look. But either way, when he crooks his fingers again to beckon me forward, God help me, I do.
Come what may.
Chapter Three
Gabriel
“Preacher? Preacher Gabriel?”
I blink, and I realize someone is talking to me. I blink again, and slowly realize it’s a man standing next to her who’s talking to me.
“What?” I frown. Shit. I clear my throat and take a breath, and my mask goes back on. I turn and smile warmly at the older man next to the golden-haired angel. “Yes indeed, sir! At your service!”
He smiles. “Oh thank the Lord we got here in time!” He puts an arm over her shoulders, and my throbbing hard cock falters for a second. Okay, clearly her father, and this good ol’ southern boy looks like exactly the type to keep a loaded shotgun ready and waiting for exactly wolves like me that sniff to close to his little angel.
I force myself to take a breath and keep my eyes on him, not her. It might just be the single hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life though.
“Preacher Gabriel!” he beams. “I was hoping me and my daughter here could be washed in His holy waters before it’s too late!”
It’s never too late for a donation to Preacher Gabriel’s whiskey fund, trust me.
I grin. “But of course! Of course brother…” I raise a brow, and he grins back.
“Oh, Jedediah, sir. Jedediah Somerset, and this is my daughter,” he turns to her, and I grit my teeth. I’ve been trying my fucking hardest not to look at her. It’s taken all of my willpower to look at him, not at the fucking stunning angel standing next to him. But, what can I say, the flesh is weak. I drag my eyes over to hers, and I grind my teeth.