I turn the corner of the building and lean against it, breathing deeply. This place is historic and so old I swear it was probably standing before Tennessee even became a state. The block is covered in green ivy halfway up and it sticks into my back, but I ignore it. I’m wearing a white uniform, including the damn veil and coif on top of my head. I thought nuns wore black. I could handle black a little more. At least I’d feel more at home in it. I rip the top off my head; it’s fucking hot and I’m not sure how much longer I can handle being here. I know I promised my dad, but damn, nothing seems to be changing and I miss my old life.
“That looks better.”
My head jerks up when I hear his voice.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my head tilted to the side so I can watch him closely. I was kind of hoping I had embellished how good he looks. I didn’t. He’s tall and wide, his skin a golden tan and his hair is copper brown and when the sun hits it I see those highlights even more. He’s wearing jeans that look lived-in and hug him in all the right places—so much so that my mouth waters. I force myself to look at his face—and not the bulge pushing against the zipper in his jeans. His eyes are blue. They’re not a normal blue. Jesus, they’re a dark, sparkling blue and they send goosebumps over my body and it’s so intense my nipples freaking tingle. To disguise my reaction to him, I take out a few of the pins that didn’t come out of my hair and then sift my fingers through it.
“Wanted to see you, Angel,” he says, but he’s different. He’s not smiling or cocky like he was the first time we met. He’s staring at me and he’s completely serious… so serious that it’s unnerving.
“What for?”
“Been asking myself that for a while now.”
“You got a smoke?” I ask him, figuring it’s best not to comment on his reply.
“Do nuns smoke?”
“This one does.” I shrug.
He takes out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket on his cut and reaches it over to me. I take one out, silently congratulating myself that my hand doesn’t shake. When I bring it to my lips, he digs in his pocket again and brings out a lighter. He lights it, his gaze holding mine. It’s the simple act of lighting a cigarette, but it feels more intense.
Probably because I’m playing with fire, literally and figuratively.
“Thanks,” I tell him, ignoring the fact that my voice is hoarse.
“Is smoking a sin?”
“Depends on what you’re smoking, I guess. Is that why you’re here? Church is usually on Sundays.”
“I don’t think they let the Devil in church. Pretty sure that’s against the rules.”
“The purpose for church is to save lost souls, Devil.”
“Mine’s a little more than lost.”
“What makes you say that?”
“How about the fact I want to rip that get-up off of you and fuck you against the building right now?” he asks and for a minute my heart stops. My body feels flushed and heat invades my system, inching up my spine.
I take a big drag off my cigarette, hoping the nicotine soothes me. It doesn’t. Instead I’m having visions of Devil fucking me, my body pressed into the brick as he slams inside, filling me...
“Did I leave you speechless, Angel?”
“Just enjoying my cigarette,” I tell him, doing my best to keep my voice even and unaffected.
“You should give those up,” he responds.
“Why’s that?” I ask, shaking off the ashes of the cigarette and taking another drag. I’m going to have to get back to the others, and I wish like hell I didn’t have to. I can’t stay with Devil though. It’s not safe…or sane.
“Because I want to kiss you.”
“And my smoking would stop that?”
“No, but I’d rather taste you than a cigarette.”
“You smoke though. Isn’t that kind of a double standard?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to stop smoking so I’ll kiss you?”
“If you want to kiss me, Angel, fuck yeah, I’ll give them up.”
“Just like that?” I ask before I can stop myself. I ground my cigarette under my shoe, but I never look away from him.
I’m not sure I can.
In answer, Devil takes his cigarettes out of his pocket and throws them on the ground. I watch as they hit the green grass and then his foot comes down and smashes them under his boot.
“Exactly like that.”
“I better get going,” I tell him, feeling unnerved and very tempted to kiss him.
“Don’t leave,” he orders—and it’s definitely said like an order.
“I need to get back before they miss me,” I explain, but we both know I’m running and we know why, because I’ve not been entirely successful in hiding my reaction to him.