Lust: Chapter 18
Lust: A Forbidden Age Gap Romance (Purity Book 3)
The morning sun casts long shadows across the empty church parking lot. When I step out of my car, the cool morning air makes me shiver. My gaze falls on Brandon. Heâs waiting for me by his Audi, and my heart flutters at the sight.
Such a daddy.
He stands tall and imposing, his deep-brown eyes narrowing as he takes in my appearance. His jaw is tight, and his gaze lingers on the contours of my body revealed by the form-fitting tank top. A wave of delightful defiance washes over me.
I didnât dress sexy on purpose. I canât help it if he likes what he sees.
âWell, youâre dressed comfortably,â he says, his voice low and tight.
A teasing smirk tugs at my lips. Heâs not even trying to hide the fact that his eyes are on my tits right now. His stern gaze makes my heart race, but I refuse to let him see how much it turns me on.
If he wants polite distance, Iâll give it to him.
âItâs a four-hour drive,â I say. âWould you prefer I dress uncomfortably?â
His expression shutters. âNoâ¦but Iâm going to be introducing you to a group of pastors. Iâd prefer you be dressed professionally so they donât thinkââ His lips close.
My smile grows. âDonât think what?â
He lets out a long sigh. âNothing. Iâm sorry. I shouldnât be commenting on the way youâre dressed.â He flinches. âItâs sexist.â
âItâs okay. I should have worn a bra.â
His teeth clench, and I have to fight the smile rising to my lips as I hand him a stainless-steel mug filled with hot coffee. âBlack and strong as gasoline. Just the way you like it. Iâve also loaded up some history podcasts for the drive.â
His brows lift at that. âWhat kind of history?â
Lightness fills my chest. My friends and family groan whenever I suggest listening to history podcasts on a road trip, but Brandon loves history as much as I do.
Ugh. Iâm actually excited to spend the next four hours alone in a car with him, and it fucking sucks.
Iâll never have him all to myself again after this trip.
âYouâre going to lose your mind over one of the podcasts I found,â I say. âItâs all about the badass women in the Bible. Weâve got Esther, Mary Magdalene, Bathsheba⦠My role models growing up. Bunch of strong-willed hoes, just like me.â
He chuckles. âThe strong-willed hoes of the Bible,â he says under his breath. âYouâre so cute, Mariana.â
I inhale a sharp breath, and he winces. âIâm sorry.
âItâs okay,â I say, my heart pounding.
âIâm still on edge about this weekend.â
âMe too,â I say, but itâs a lie. Iâve been looking forward to it ever since he agreed to let me come.
Maybe weâll finally have a breakthrough. Maybe heâll finally let go of his obsession with my age and what my dad thinks of him.
A foolâs hope, most likely.
The thought is confirmed a while later when weâre driving to Big Sur. The tension in the car is thick. Brandonâs hardly said a word, and heâs shot down any conversation Iâve tried to initiate. His walls are up.
Fuck this.
I reach for my phone and plug it into the aux cord. âDo you mind if I play that podcast?â
âThat sounds great.â Itâs the most enthusiastic heâs sounded since we started driving.
The spirit of rebellionâas my mom always calls itârises within me. Without giving myself a chance to reflect, I press the podcast episode about David and Bathsheba.
A kinky Bible story.
My cheeks warm as the melodious voice of the podcast host fills the car. I shouldnât be so immature, but damn him. Why does he have to be so rigid in his thinking?
I smile at him from under my lashes, even though I know he canât see me. âThis story made meâ¦feel things. Growing up, I mean.â
The atmosphere in the car grows suddenly stifling. I chance a glance at Brandon, my breath hitching as I take in his stiff posture, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. His face is flushed.
âOh yeah?â Brandon finally asks, his voice tight. His gaze remains glued to the road ahead. He knows exactly where Iâm going with this, but heâs giving me the benefit of the doubt.
âI meanâ¦â I pick at the loose thread on my yoga pants. âItâs one of the sexier Bible stories, and my parents sheltered me so much, it was my only opportunity to hear something like that.â
His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. âI think itâs pretty sad. David essentially raped her. And then he had her husband killed.â
I bite my bottom lip and scrape it with my teeth. âWell, of course. If I think of the fact that they were real peopleâI mean, historians are pretty sure they were real but probably not the details. To me, it was just a story. And it was a hot story. David was the king, and he saw her naked once and had to have her. He wanted her so badly, he eliminated all barriers between them.â
My skin grows hot and tingly. I shouldnât be talking this way with him, but itâs so hard to resist.
Itâs fun to be able to have a conversation like this with him, given how reasonable he is about his faith and his deep knowledge of the Bible. I could never say something like this to any of my family members.
âI used to think about this story when I took baths,â I say. âIâd imagine a man watching me and wanting me.â
âMari,â he says, his voice full of warning.
âIâm sorry.â
Frantically, I fumble with my phone, hitting the pause button. The car plunges into silence.
âI wasnât trying to turn you on. I really mean it.â
Heâs quiet for a while, and my guilt makes my skin tingly and itchy.
âI honestly justâ¦â I shut my eyes. âI want to be able to talk to you about this stuff. I feel like we could have beforeâ¦â
His hand leaves the wheel for a moment, hovering over mine before returning to its place. âItâs okay,â he murmurs. âI want to be able to talk to you about the Bible. Answer all your questions. But this topic in particularâ¦â
âI know.â
âWe can talk plenty this weekend, but letâs keep the topic off sex.â He smiles faintly. âEven if itâs sex in the Bible.â
I grin. âSuch a kinky book.â
âWatch it, youngââ His lips close.
Goddamn it, Brandon. Just say it. Call me young lady. Call me your naughty girl.
The rest of the drive is rife with tension, and all I can think is what a long weekend itâs going to be if he stays this bottled up.