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  Her possessive hold on my shirt has my blood pressure rising, and the combination of euphoria and beer keeps me from thinking clearly. The warmth of her lips, the sultry fragrance of her hair—I’m a man on a ledge, scrambling to stay upright.

  I kiss her with closed lips, ghost my mouth against hers. A soft moan rises in her throat, and I long to feel it against my tongue.

  This is too much. I’ve gone too far. Crossed the line. Mustering every last bit of my control, I straighten, but before I can put any air between us, she wraps one hand around my neck, the other around my back, and pushes up on her toes, pressing her tight little body firmly to mine.

  The growl of pleasure that comes clawing up my throat catches me by surprise as she licks at my closed lips. Her slick tongue is impossible to deny, and I part my lips.

  “Yes,” she whispers into my mouth as I release myself to her control.

  The kiss isn’t hard or fast. It’s slow and deliberate, every taste we take from each other coveted as if it’ll be the last. And it will be the last. But even as that thought flows through me, so does the resolute knowledge that I have to kiss her again. As many times as I can get away with. As many times as she’ll let me.

  Her hand slides up the back of my neck into my hair, and her nails scrape against my scalp. My body lurches closer. I give up the fight to stay under control and hug her close, lifting her nearly off the ground to get more, deeper, taste her more fully. Her skilled tongue teases, making me chase it with an aching need for more. More of her wet mouth, her soft curves, her breathy moans.

  How have I managed to live a life without her for as long as I have?

  Maggie.

  A frigid wash of guilt douses the fire that burns in my soul, and I break the kiss. She gasps at the sudden distance and I set her down, step back, and run a hand through my hair while my chest heaves.

  “Ash… I’m sorry.”

  “Why?” There’s a smile in her voice, but I refuse to look at her. “I’m not.”

  The gold band on my finger feels too tight, constricting, condemning. “I’m married. I can’t do this.”

  She says my name with so much affection, it only intensifies the guilt. “It’s all right, I know how you feel about Maggie. I’m not a threat to what you guys had.”

  A surge of anger swells behind my ribs. How can she say that? She is a threat to everything in my well-balanced life. My marriage, my celibacy, my control. By just breathing, Ashleigh is a walking threat to everything I have a firm handle on.

  “Hey,” she says, tilting her head to catch my eyes. “Don’t do that, okay? Don’t beat yourself up. It was my fault. I kissed you.”

  The corner of my lips twitches. That’s sweet of her to take the blame, but she’s wrong. I let go, gave into a longing I’ve had for longer than I’m even able to admit to myself. “I shouldn’t have told you my secret.”

  She seems so together, so casual, not at all as shaken up as I feel. “I’m so glad you did. Confession time? I’ve been hoping to get a shot at those lips of yours for years.”

  My eyes snap to hers. “Really?”

  She nods slowly, as if she’s reliving the kiss in her mind. “Your lips were even better than I imagined. And I have a vivid imagination.” She winks. “Thank you for indulging me.”

  Is that all that was? Just a little indulgence? I’m sure Ashleigh sees kisses like handshakes—friendly, but not at all personal. That’s the only explanation for why she’s acting as if we’ve done nothing more than hugged. But my pulse is still hammering and her taste is still on my tongue, my dick is painfully hard and my intentions are far from innocent as I watch her alluring blue eyes sparkle in the dim lights.

  “I should go,” I say. Why? Because if I stay out here for another second, I’m bound to throw aside every bit of my control and kiss the fuck out of her against this wall.

  “Okay.” She grins brightly.

  My lips burn to kiss that radiant smile from her gorgeous face. Instead, I step away. “Have a good night.”

  She turns away. Everything about seeing her retreating back feels wrong. I want to wrap my arm around her from behind the way that asshole at the bar did. I want to nuzzle her neck, breathe her in, kiss every inch of her throat, avoiding her lips until she’s crying out for me to kiss her.

  “You too.”

  “See you on Sunday?” I ask, knowing it makes me a complete dick to expect her to continue to come to church after I’ve crossed such an intimate boundary.

  She opens the door to the club, turns, and smiles so brightly it’s burned into my skull, as if she wasn’t expecting me to want to see her on Sunday. “Your congregation isn’t going to greet itself. See ya, Ben.”

  “You too.” I watch her disappear behind the door. “Ash!”

  She snags the door before it closes and peers out at me. “Yeah?”

  “Be safe, okay?”

  Because if anyone touches, tries to hurt her or disrespect her… I shake off the ridiculous possessiveness I feel. I blame the beer, or maybe it’s all the drunk men inside the club who were checking her out, or the way Anthony manhandled her.

  “Always am.”

  She closes the door, and I’m left alone outside with so many conflicting thoughts, I don’t know where to begin to unravel them all.

  * * *

  “Why are you here?”

  I hear my brother’s question before I’m even all the way through the front door of my house. He and Bethany are lying on the couch, the TV on, but unless either of them is shopping for a new knife that can cut a metal can as well as a tomato, I’m guessing they weren’t watching the screen. Thank goodness they’re both fully clothed.

  “I live here,” I say dryly as I close the door.

  “How was it?” Bethany untangles herself from my brother’s tentacle arms and legs to sit up.

  He eventually groans and does the same.

  “Good.”

  Jesiah scowls. “Good? That’s it?”

  Phenomenal. Terrifying. I don’t even remember driving home because my mind wouldn’t stop replaying that kiss. “Yeah. It was nice.”

  “Nice?” My brother rubs a hand down his face. “He didn’t make a move.”

  Bethany ignores him. “Well, I’ll take that as a win.” She crosses to me. “I’m just happy you went out for a little bit.”

  “An hour. He was gone for an hour.”

  She shrugs one shoulder. “It was more like an hour and a half.”

  My brother slaps his denim-clad thighs and pushes to stand. “All right, dude. We tried. Now we’ll leave you alone to bring yourself to orgasm alone.”

  “Jesiah!” Bethany’s face is bright red.

  I’m shaking my head, because I can’t deny my taking myself into my own hand is a possibility. I would never admit that to Jesiah and certainly would never say it in front of Bethany though. “Thanks for sticking around.”

  “It was fine. Elliot’s been asleep the whole time.” Bethany gathers her purse and stops in front of me. “Are you sure you’re okay with me going back to Los Angeles? If you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with Ashleigh, let me know and I’ll stay.”

  Oh, I’m comfortable with Ashleigh all right. Too comfortable. Only a few minutes of having her against me and I’m uncomfortable without her.

  “We’ll be fine. You have your own child to take care of.” I lift my chin, referring to my big baby of a little brother.

  Bethany laughs, and they move to the door. I walk them there, which is basically two steps from where I’ve been standing.

  “Don’t forget about my offer for you to record with us.” Jes has his arm slung over his wife. “You could show Arienfield your original stuff.” He lifts his brows as if he’s put the icing on the cake, an offer I can’t refuse.

  “I don’t have any original stuff.” Not to mention, I’d surely have to step down as head pastor at Grace Church if I ended up officially working for Jesse Lee.

  “Throw something toget
her. You were always a kickass songwriter.”

  “Jes, I can’t—”

  “Take another week or so to think about it.” He claps me on the back.

  “I hope you’re looking for someone else. I’d hate to see your next album hinging on me when I’ve told you over and over my answer is no.”

  He squints, studying my hair. “Just nice, huh?”

  I turn to look at Bethany, who’s looking at her husband’s face, then she follows his line of sight to me.

  “What?” I ask.

  My brother smirks. “You know how many women’s hands I’ve had in my hair—ow!” He rubs his gut where Bethany smacked him. “Damn. I’m sorry, it’s just…” He goes back to staring at me.

  “Oh my gosh,” Bethany whispers. “You don’t think…”

  “I more than think, babe. I know.”

  “But… do you—I mean… Ashleigh?”

  “Fuck yeah, who else?”

  “What are you guys talking about?” I say, ready for them to get out of my house already.

  My brother, never one to beat around the bush, blurts, “How’d you two end up fucking in the club? You were only there for an hour.”

  “What?” Bethany hisses.

  “You’re delusional,” I say, motioning for them to leave before my expression gives anything away.

  “Right.” Jes chuckles. “Take a good look in the mirror, bro. The back of your hair is facing the wrong direction. Either you were lying on your back, which I doubt, or you had a woman’s hands all up in your shit.”

  I feel the back of my head, and sure enough, the strands are facing all different directions. I never should’ve canceled my appointment for a haircut weeks ago. My usual cropped style is longer now, long enough to grip, run soft fingers through —

  “It’s none of our business. Let’s go home.” Bethany’s practically pulling Jes’s arm out of the socket to get him outside.

  I try to remain impassive even though instinct tells me I should tell everyone in the entire state that I kissed Ash. I want the world to know my lips were on hers. I want the world to know she’s mine.

  She’s not mine.

  Maggie is mine.

  Maggie is my wife.

  What is happening to me?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ashleigh

  “Good morning, welcome to church.” With a stomach full of butterflies, I hand out this morning’s bulletin to the first people through the doors of Grace Church.

  I blame the Red Bull. I refuse to believe I could actually be nervous to see Ben after our kiss on Friday night. Flat-out refuse. I don’t get butterflies around men. Sure, Ben isn’t the average man. But I have experience with great-looking, successful guys that goes well beyond kissing and not one of them have shaken up my insides quite like this.

  “Hello, Ashleigh.” Kathy’s voice drips in fake sweetener as she strolls toward me, her gaze moving along my body. “I’m happy to see Pastor Langley took my advice and spoke to you about your clothing choices.”

  “Clothing choices?”

  She lifts her chin. “I assumed that’s why you’re showing less skin this morning.”

  I look down at my outfit. My black dress is tight but not too short, hitting me at midthigh, with long sleeves and small buttons that run up the front like a man’s dress shirt, something I find very sexy. I’m showing some cleavage, and yeah, I usually unbutton the bottom to show my thighs when I walk. My suede, nude booties are less eye-catching than the thigh-high lace-up boots I usually pair with this dress. But my choice to wear this particular outfit had nothing to do with Ben. At least, not consciously.

  “Ben and I had a long talk about the congregation’s response to your… style. I’m happy to see he was able to convince you to dress more modestly.”

  “He didn’t convince me to do shit.”

  She cringes at my choice of words, then looks around to make sure no one else heard me. “If you’ll watch your tongue—”

  “Did you talk to Ben about that too?” I smile because even though she doesn’t know it, I know Ben has strong opinions about my tongue. I tasted every one of them in his groans on Friday night.

  She sniffs and steps aside, giving me no choice but to turn with her. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  I narrow my eyes at her, still grinning. Interesting. Kathy’s been complaining about me to Ben, yet he’s not breathed a word of it to me.

  Her expression sharpens to a point. “Pastor Langley has worked hard to establish a reputation at this church and I for one will not see it tarnished.”

  I hear her implication that I’m the one tarnishing the good church’s reputation. She’s so blind. “That’s good, because I would hate for people coming to Ben’s church for the first time to be made to feel like they had to look a certain way to be accepted here. I would hate for anyone to feel like they weren’t welcome simply because they didn’t fit into some impossible mold.”

  She opens her mouth, but she’s not fast enough.

  “Have you forgotten what kind of people Jesus surrounded himself with?”

  Again, she tries to answer, but I had a thirty-two-ounce Red Bull an hour ago, so she’s going to have to be faster if she wants a word in.

  “Fishermen with dirty hands and sweat-soaked clothes, a tax collector who robbed the innocent, a prostitute….” I pause, shocked by the words coming out of my mouth. I guess I have been paying attention to Ben’s sermons. “Not once did Jesus choose to walk with a self-righteous stick in the mud who claims to be perfect.”

  “Oh! Pastor Langley!” she says, looking over my shoulder, with so much sunshine in her voice it hurts my ears.

  The annoyance in my gut quickly divides into a billion butterflies when I realize Ben must be approaching from behind me. I grasp the bulletins to my chest and turn around as he stops, his gaze on my eyes.

  “Good morning, Ashleigh.” His gaze is warm, his expression soft and accepting as he holds eye contact with me for a few seconds longer. “Kathy? Everything all right?”

  No good morning for Kathy. I grin inside.

  “Yes, everything’s perfect.” Kathy scoots up beside me, or rather, a little in front of me. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Actually, yes,” Ben says, not looking at me. “If you could relieve Ashleigh for a moment? There’s something I need to talk to her about.”

  Me? Oh shit. Why do I get the feeling I’m in trouble? Did he hear me bitching at Kathy when he walked up? Knowing her, she’d let me rant and make an ass out of myself in front of Ben.

  “O-oh, of course.”

  Ben gently takes the bulletins from me and hands them to Kathy, who looks as confused as I feel. “She won’t be long.”

  He flashes that sexy megawatt smile then turns and asks me to follow him. I do, making sure I don’t stare at his ass until we’re in the hallway that leads to the church offices. He takes me to his office, which seems official, and I fear he’s about to let me go. Bethany was right—if anyone could get fired from volunteering, it’s me. After I’m through the door, he closes it, then rethinks that and opens it a crack. I don’t dare move to sit down because if he’s going to fire me, I’d rather be standing to make a quick exit before he catches my embarrassment.

  He turns toward me, those gorgeous brown eyes inviting, and exhales. “Hi.”

  My gaze darts around the room, wondering if someone is about to jump out and yell surprise! When that doesn’t happen, I eye him warily. “Hi?”

  His lips twitch on the sides. “You’re nervous.”

  “Not exactly. More like curious.”

  “About?”

  My brows rise. “Why I’m here?”

  “Ah.” He grins and steps a little closer, still outside arm’s length. “Well, the truth is, I uh…” He shakes his head and peers at me. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened on Friday night.”

  “You want to talk about that here?”

  “I did. Yes. I thought about it al
l day Saturday and…”

  I can tell by the concerned look on his face, what he’s about to say isn’t going to be good. I’m familiar with seeing regret in the eyes of the opposite sex. I brace myself for impact.

  “I woke up this morning and rehearsed the speech in my head.”

  “All right. So let’s have it.” The butterflies in my stomach all drop dead and settle to the bottom.

  He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “That’s the problem. I hunted you down this morning and heard you talking to Kathy and suddenly everything I was going to say just disappeared.”

  “I don’t get it.” What is he telling me?

  “I know, I’m not explaining myself well. All I know is that I saw you and heard your voice and I realized I miss you and I know I should stick to the plan and tell you what happened on Friday was a mistake and it can’t happen again but I realized that I want it to happen again—why are you looking at me like that?”

  I blink and try to fix my face.

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  “Yes.” When he frowns, I grin. “In the best possible way.”

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about…” He looks behind him at the cracked door, then back to me. “You’re right, this isn’t the best place to talk. Come over. After service.”

  “Are you fucking with me?”

  He chuckles, and the sound is like warm honey against my skin. “No, I’m not. As a matter of fact.” He steps closer and I think he might try to touch me, but instead he shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You look beautiful today.”

  “Shut up,” I say, shoving him in the shoulder as if I’m in eighth grade rather than a grown-ass woman.

  “I will not. Confession?”

  Oh my God, the sound of him whispering that word conjures up images I should not be having in church. “Yes please.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.”

  “And?” I can hear myself breathing. Can he?

  “I want—”

  “Pastor Langley?” Kathy’s voice sends us both three big steps back just in time for her to push open the door. She ignores me but looks at him. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m supposed to be gathering the communion trays and need Ms. Kendrick back at the door.”