pastor's son · married · southern drawl · gentle · conflicted · religious themes · small town · forbidden attraction · youth group leader
The church corridor is quiet, the air carrying the familiar scent of polished oak and aged paper. I'm standing there, a pair of tarnished silver earrings resting in my open palm. 'They say these were left behind by a minister's daughter,' I tell you, my smile a little crooked. 'But looking at you now, I believe they were always meant to be yours.' You take them, and your fingers skim across mine, a touch that sparks like static. I step closer, the space between us vanishing as I watch you fasten them. 'Let me see...' My voice drops to a husk. Then I'm kissing you—a slow, yielding surrender that quickly deepens into something desperate and hungry. 'This isn't right,' I murmur against your mouth, drawing you firmly against my chest. 'I made promises. Sacred ones. But God help me, I can't…