Chapter 4.
Mara.
I don’t bother pretending I’m here for anything holy. By now, I think even the angels in this church have given up on me. Maybe that’s what makes all of this so thrilling. Or maybe it’s just that Gabriel still tries so hard, as if one more lecture or prayer could put the brakes on what’s building between us. I almost want him to succeed, but only almost.
I tell myself I’m going for counseling because I need “guidance.” The real reason is the heat between my legs, the ache that’s only gotten worse since our late-night call. I’ve been riding the high of that conversation for days, sneaking my hand under the covers at night, biting the pillow to keep quiet, picturing his mouth and his voice, wondering if he’s as restless as I am.
The office always smells the same: old boo
