Page 8 of Preacher Man (Divine Temptations #1)

Chapter Eight

Jake

T he sheets were still warm where his body had been. Ethan had slipped out of bed so quietly, like he thought I’d sleep through the soft creak of the floorboards, the whisper of denim sliding up long legs, the click of his belt buckle.

But I wasn’t asleep.

Hell, I hadn’t slept all damn night.

I laid there staring at the ceiling, heart pounding, jaw clenched, listening to him get dressed in the dark like he was some teenager sneaking out of his boyfriend’s bedroom before Mom and Dad woke up.

His keys jingled. Then the door clicked shut.

A second later, I heard the cough of his shitbox Honda trying to turn over. I closed my eyes and counted the stutters of the engine like rosary beads. One. Two. Three. Four…

The engine caught.

I sat up in bed, the blanket falling down to my waist, heat still clinging to my skin from hours ago when he fell apart underneath me.

“Something’s gotta give,” I muttered into the empty room, voice gravel-thick. “Because I swear to God, I feel like the other woman or something.”

And that was the truth. I felt like a fucking secret. A sin.

And maybe that shouldn’t have mattered. Maybe I should’ve been okay with the quiet moments. His trembling hands on my skin, the way he whispered my name like it was sacred. But then he’d run.

Every damn time.

He’d kiss me like he was drowning and I was air, and then bolt before the sun came up like it never happened.

And I let him.

Every. Damn. Time.

Because I loved him.

Even if we’d never said the words.

Even if he couldn’t.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and let out a bitter laugh. “Congratulations, Jake. You’ve officially become a cliché. Hot sex, secret boyfriend, zero dignity.” I stood up, crossed the room, and stared out the window.

There he went. Driving off toward that little trailer with the peeling siding and the shitty vinyl blinds that never quite closed right. Back to pretending. Back to praying away what we did in the dark.

I stood there watching until his taillights disappeared, fists clenched at my sides. My chest ached with something that wasn’t just frustration. It was grief. Grief for a man who wasn’t even gone.

And I knew I couldn’t keep doing this.

Not like this.

Because if I let Ethan keep hiding me in the shadows, I’d lose him. And worse, he’d lose himself.

* * *

I didn’t plan to come. I swear I didn’t.

But around eleven, I found myself on my bike, gripping it like it owed me answers, and the next thing I knew, I was pulling into the gravel lot beside the church. The sun was high in the sky and hot. The kind of heat that pressed on your chest and made every breath feel like a sin.

I walked up the rickety steps to the trailer and tried the knob. Locked. Fine. I knocked.

No answer.

I circled the building and pushed open the side door to the church. It creaked like a warning, but I ignored it. He was in his office. I just knew it. I could hear papers rustling, and that tiny fan humming uselessly against the heat.

I pushed open the door without knocking.

Ethan sat behind his tiny desk, blinking up at me like a deer caught in headlights. “Jake,” he said, voice low, cautious. “What are you doing here?”

I closed the door behind me, slowly.

Ethan swallowed. Hard.

I didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at him.

Looked at the man who had spent the past few weeks in my bed every single night, trembling and needy, whispering “God help me” against my throat while I held him so tight I could feel every beat of his heart.

And now he sat there, all buttoned up again, shirt pressed, cross around his neck like armor.

I walked toward him, slow and steady. “We can’t keep doing this, Ethan.”

He flinched. “I know.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you knew, you’d be done pretending.” I leaned both hands on his desk, knuckles white. “I’m done sneaking around. Ethan, I’m not your dirty little secret.”

“Jake, please—”

“No,” I snapped. “You don’t get to ‘please’ me. Not when you sneak out of my bed like you’re ashamed. Not when you walk into this church, like nothing happened. Like I don’t mean anything to you.”

His eyes turned glossy.

Shit.

If Ethan cried, I’d lose it.

He stood and backed up, breath catching. “I can’t keep doing this either.”

Those words? They broke something in me.

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice low. “Are you ending this?”

He turned, wiped his eyes. “I think we have to.”

“No,” I said, flat. Firm. “You think you have to. Tell me why.”

He shook his head.

“Look at me and tell me why, Ethan. Say it.”

He turned, red-eyed and shaking. “Because it’s wrong!” he cried. “Because it’s a sin, Jake! I wake up in your arms and feel like I’m going to hell, and I can’t… God, I can’t do this anymore.”

I took two steps and grabbed his face between my hands. “How can what we have be a sin?” I asked, voice sharp with pain. “When it feels like the only thing that’s ever made sense to me?”

He gasped and tried to pull away, but I wouldn’t let him. “How can it be wrong,” I whispered, “when every time I touch you, I feel whole?”

I kissed him.

Hard.

He whimpered into my mouth, hands pressed to my chest like he was trying to push me away, but his fingers curled into my shirt.

I slid one hand down to his hip, pulling him close. “God made you,” I said, dragging my lips along his jaw. “And God made me. And God sure as hell made this.” I placed his hand on my bulge.

“Jake—” His voice cracked.

“Don’t fight me.” I unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “Let me love you.”

His knees buckled, and I caught him, my lips never leaving his skin.

We stumbled together across the tiny office, knocking a stack of hymnals to the floor. I backed him into the desk, lifting him up and settling between his legs. He let out a sound—half sob, half moan—and I swallowed it.

His hands were in my hair now. Desperate. Wild.

“You think God doesn’t know your heart?” I asked as I slipped his shirt off his shoulders. “You think He doesn’t see how much you love me?”

“I never said… ”

“You don’t have to,” I breathed, dragging my mouth down his throat. “I feel it. Every time you shake in my arms. Every time you beg for my cock.”

Ethan gasped, his head falling back.

I pressed my forehead to his. “I’m not a sin. And neither are you.”

Then I dropped to my knees, and his fingers trembled against the back of my neck. “Ethan,” I whispered, looking up at him as I unbuckled his belt, “You can’t tell me this is wrong. Not when it feels this right.”

He shuddered, his breath hitching as I slid his zipper down. “Jake... we’re in a church,” he breathed, but there was no conviction behind his words. Only desperation. Only need.

“And who better to watch over us than Him?” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his stomach as I slid his pants down. “Who better to see the truth in this?”

His hands were in my hair, gripping tightly as I took his thick cock in my mouth.

Ethan moaned, and I slowly began working his shaft with my fist and my mouth.

Ethan’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling as I worshipped him in the most sacred of spaces.

His fingers tightened in my hair, pulling almost painfully, but I didn’t care.

I wanted his pain, his pleasure, his everything.

“Jake,” he choked out, voice filled with tears and need. “Please...”

I looked up at him, my mouth still around him, and his eyes... God, his eyes. They were shattered, torn between desire and despair. I could see it all. The war within him, the battle between what he wanted and what he thought was right.

I pulled back just enough to speak, my hand still moving up and down his girth. “Please what, Ethan? Tell me what you want.”

He sobbed, his head thudding back against the wall behind him. “I want... I want you. But I can’t... I can’t have you.”

“You can,” I insisted, my voice raw. “You do. Right now, Ethan, you have me. And I have you.”

I took the head of his cock inside me, feeling it throb, and his hips jerked, pushing more of his length into me. His body knew what it wanted, even if his mind was a mess of fear and guilt.

His breath hitched, and he was close—so close. But I needed him to understand. I needed him to see how much I cared for him.

I pulled back again, my hand still gripping him firmly. “Ethan, look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy.

“This isn’t wrong,” I said, my voice steady and sure. “This is love. And I’m not letting you throw it away because you’re scared.”

He shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I’m not strong like you, Jake. I can’t just... “

“You are,” I insisted. “Ethan, you are strong. You are brave. And you are loved. So fucking loved, Ethan.”

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. The one thing I’d never done for a man.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a condom.

Something had told me to bring one when I left my house.

I ripped it open with my teeth, then I put it on Ethan’s leaking cock.

Then I pulled my jeans off, and laid face down on the desk, scattering papers to the floor. “Take me, Ethan. Make me yours.”

“Jake... what are you doing?”

“Giving you a choice,” I said, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. “You can either walk away, or you can take what you want. What you need. What we both need.”

He hesitated, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I saw the struggle in his eyes, the fear, and the longing. And I knew I was playing with fire. But I also knew that sometimes, the only way to save someone is to burn with them.

“Ethan,” I said, my voice softer now, “it’s okay to want this. It’s okay to want me.”

He took a step forward, then another, until he was standing right behind me. I could feel his heat, his trembling. His hands hovered over my back, not quite touching.

“I... I don’t know how,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

I reached back, taking one of his hands and guiding it to my hip. “Yes, you do,” I said. “Just listen to your heart. Listen to your body.”

His grip tightened on my hip, and I felt him press against me. His breath was hot on my back, his heart pounding against my skin. I reached back with my other hand, guiding him, showing him what to do.

He was hesitant at first, his movements uncertain.

“Ethan,” I gasped as the first inch slid inside. God, his cock was thick. “I’ve never done this before. Please, I need you inside of me.”

He leaned over me, his chest against my back, his lips at my ear. “Jake,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I... I think I love you.”

“Show me, Preacher Man. Give me everything you’ve got.”

He pushed forward, slow and steady, filling me completely. I gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, as he began to move. His thrusts were tentative at first, but they grew more confident with each stroke. I could feel the tension in his body, the coiled need that matched my own.

“Yes,” I hissed, pushing back against him, meeting each thrust. “This is who we are, Ethan. This is what we need.”

His hands roamed my back, my sides, my hips, grasping and needy. He leaned down, his lips finding my spine, kissing and worshiping every inch of me. I could feel his tears mingling with the sweat on my skin. This was more than just sex; it was a release, a confession, a baptism.

The desk creaked beneath us, the sound of our bodies meeting echoing through the small office. The air was thick with the scent of us, the heat of our bodies, the raw intensity of our connection.

His pace quickened, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I reached down, gripping myself, stroking in time with his thrusts. Pleasure coiled in my gut, building and building until I was on the edge, ready to fall.

“Ethan,” I gasped, his name a prayer on my lips. “I’m close. So close.”

He groaned, his fingers digging into my hips, his body tensing. I could feel him swelling inside me, pushing me over the edge. I came with a cry, spilling onto the desk, my body shuddering with release.

Ethan followed, his last thrusts erratic, his breath hot on my neck. He collapsed on top of me, his heart pounding against my back. We lay there for a moment, our bodies still joined, our breaths slowly synchronizing.

I turned my head, looking at him over my shoulder. His eyes were closed, tears clinging to his lashes. He looked broken, but also, somehow, at peace. I reached up, cupping his cheek, my thumb brushing away the tears.

Ethan’s breath was still shaky against my shoulder, his softening cock still buried inside me, when a door opened somewhere in the church.

We both froze.

Footsteps echoed through the sanctuary—measured, unhurried. Someone had come in. Someone was here.

“Shit,” Ethan whispered, panic flaring in his voice as he scrambled off me, fumbling to pull on his pants. Papers slid off the desk and fluttered to the floor. “You have to hide.”

“Are you serious?” I hissed, still trying to catch my breath. “Ethan… ”

“Please, Jake,” he said, wild-eyed, his hand shaking as he pointed to the gap under the desk. “I’m begging you.”

I stared at him. My knees ached. My pride did, too. Everything in me wanted to stand tall, to stay visible. To not be shoved into the shadows like I was something to be ashamed of.

But he looked so scared.

So broken.

And I loved him too much to make it worse.

I knelt down and crawled beneath the desk just as the footsteps grew louder, coming closer.

From under the desk, I watched Ethan smooth his shirt down with trembling hands, wipe at the tears still wet on his face, and paste on the mask he wore so damn well.

The preacher, the good man, the liar.

And as the office door creaked open, I wondered how long I could keep hiding like this before it finally destroyed us both.