She’s got a whole little number underneath, too—this black lace ensemble of matching panties and bra, complete with garter-belts. To any moral man, this should be game over. This would be hello sin-town. I should be ripping my boxers off and tripping over myself to get my hands all over her.

…None of that shit happens, because this is not who I want. Not by a country fucking mile.

“Ms. Purcell,” I say quietly. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Uh-uh, Gabriel,” she purrs. “You might say you’re a man of God, but I know a hungry sinner when I see one. Come on, preacher… it’s all for you....