by Azure Boone
"Ah, good. I mean, I'm glad she's able to." He nodded a few times. "We can…fix her a plate and save it for her."
Devyn nodded. "Thank you." She bit her tongue on that's sweet and walked on into the room. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, though."
Before she could, Troy pulled a chair back for her and waited for her to sit. Fuck. People only did that on TV. Feeling clumsy, she sat and let him help her adjust the chair. Hopefully she wouldn't embarrass herself too badly.
Troy sat across from her, and she waited for him to start, preferring to follow his lead. When he sat silent and unmoving with his head lowered, she wondered what she'd done wrong. "Dear Lord, we thank you for the nourishment you have provided us. We ask that you keep us safe, and especially look over Karly as she struggles against the demons that plague her. Please ease the pain that goes with the battle, and see her safely through. In Jesus name we pray. Amen."
Unsure what to do or say, Devyn murmured, "Amen."
Troy started passing her an endless array of food. Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, dressing, fresh rolls. Afraid of insulting his hospitality, Devyn took a small amount of everything, all the while wondering how on earth she would be able to eat more than one bite of each dish.
Troy, on the other hand, piled his plate full with the confidence of someone who knows where the next meal will come from.
The first bit of succulent turkey drew an involuntary moan of appreciation from Devyn. She forgot to be self-conscious, eating everything on her plate with enthusiasm. When she finished and pushed her plate back, she looked up for the first time to find Troy watching her, his own plate nearly untouched.
A hint of something she'd glimpsed before showed in his eyes. For a celibate man, he had plenty of lust in him. Whether he knew it or not was something else. Looking away, as if aware she'd discovered his secret, Troy rose and started to clear the table.
Finally, something she could do. Devyn gathered dishes and took them to the sink while Troy put the leftovers away.
Troy crowded her away from the sink. "I'll finish up here. You can go ahead and turn in. The next few days won't be easy."
Devyn refused to budge. "It's the least I can do, after all you've done for us. Now sit." She gave him a light shove toward a chair. She made quick work of the dishes, uncomfortable with Troy watching her. At least she knew what to do with the heat that showed in his eyes every time she glanced at him. The preacher wasn't quite as unaffected as he thought.
Finished with the clean-up, she turned and leaned against the counter, deciding on the best way to approach Troy and show her gratitude. She automatically slipped the band off her wrist and pulled her hair into its customary ponytail. Somehow, in all the excitement of the past few hours, she hadn't put it up.
Troy straightened and looked at her more closely. "Um, can I ask where you got that?"
"Got what?" Her heartbeat quickened a little. No stranger to being accused of theft, she hated people assuming she would steal and couldn't help her defensive tone.
"Your necklace. I recently lost one like it."
"Necklace?" Her fingers flew to her throat, encountering the broad links of the mystery chain from before. The sudden need to justify its presence made her swallow hard. "I don't know where it came from, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just found it when I got home. After you kicked that creep's ass, I found it on my neck." Even to her own ears, Devyn sounded nuts. Worse, she felt like a bald-faced liar.
Troy worried at his lip with his teeth a moment before speaking. "Does it happen to have something engraved on the back of the crucifix?"
Devyn's self-preservation dictated a lie, but she resisted the impulse. "Like…what exactly?"
"My grandfather gave me the one I had, and his father gave it to him. It had old-fashioned script engraving that said, 'My son – serving our Lord with love and honor.' I lost it that night in the alley, and figured the clasp must have broken." His hand slid over the back of his neck, as if habitually seeking a heavy chain.
What could he be playing at? Devyn just couldn't see what Troy might have to gain from putting his crucifix on her. It made no sense at all. "You're sure you didn't put it on me while I was out of it?" She reached up to unclasp the chain.
Troy stepped in close and caught her hands before she managed to work the unwieldy watch band style clasp. "No. I think maybe you're supposed to have it."
His scent, a heady combination of soap, citrusy aftershave, and clean male, invaded her senses in an entirely new experience for her. She tried to never smell the men who came near her. No matter what aroma accompanied the stench of stale smoke, old booze, and puke that saturated every man in The Castle, it always turned her stomach.
To her surprise, instead of threatening her dinner, Troy's scent made her want to inhale more deeply. Repaying him for his generosity might actually be a little pleasant.
Devyn let her hands drift up and around his shoulders, drawing him close. The split second Troy remained pressed against her was enough to confirm her impression of heat within him. The thick ridge of his hard-on pressed against her belly for a brief instant, before he jerked away as if burned.
Pursuing, Devyn trailed one hand down over his muscular chest.
Troy drew a sharp breath, then took firm hold of her hands, clasping them in his much larger ones, and stepped back again. "No, Devyn."
The oddest thing happened. Her cheeks heated with something alarmingly like shame. She couldn't remember the last time that had happened. She stepped back. "Shit. I'm sorry, Troy. I wanted to… thank you." Obviously, she'd misjudged him. He was a better boy than she'd given him credit for, leaving her to feel like a complete idiot.
She turned and blindly rushed toward the bathroom, intent on washing her face and going to bed before she could embarrass herself further. Behind her, Troy spoke, but she didn't wait to hear what he had to say.
In Troy's spotless, masculine bathroom, Devyn found a shelf of neatly folded washcloths and towels. Running hot water in the sink, she stripped out of her bra and T-shirt, and turned to find soap, only to freeze with her hand on the earth-tone shower curtain.
The scrap of red silk over the shower rail made her stomach lurch. Especially at seeing the stylized D embroidered just under the top edge of the front. What the fuck was he doing with her panties? And how did he get them?
Well, well, well, Devyn finally uncovered that filth she knew lay at the core of every man. She snatched the thong and stormed out of the bathroom, leaving the hot water still running. Devious little preacher bastard!
It wasn't until she stalked into the kitchen and Troy looked up from a book he was reading at the table that she remembered she hadn't dressed. From the look on Troy's face, he really wasn't accustomed to topless females stomping around his house.
Jesus Christ! It took Troy several seconds to unglue his eyes from Devyn's perfect naked breasts and clench them shut while flying out of his chair and knocking crap everywhere.
"Well?" Devyn demanded. "How the hell did you get my panties?"
"Your panties? Th-those are yours?" His vocal cords screeched. He spun around, not trusting himself while wondering how in God's name those panties were still there?
"Oh don't tell me you didn't know preacher boy."
God, she'd come closer. From the sound, she was only a few feet behind him. "Please…please cover yourself."
"Why? How about you drop the virgin act and tell me how the fuck you got my panties?"
Troy reached blindly around him for something to hold on to, feeling a tad dizzy. He opened his eyes and forgot about the mirror on the small dining wall. "My God, my God, my God."
"Oh God nothing, stop playing the saint, Troy. How and why do you have my panties?"
He laughed once. "The same way you have my crucifix?" He held his breath in the silence that followed, willing oxygen to all parts of his brain.
"I'm supposed to believe
you just woke up with my panties? And why the hell would I believe such a thing?"
He choked on an incredulous laugh. "Damn good question," he confessed. "But, I promise you, I had no idea they were yours, nor do I have a clue as to how they found their way into my back pocket, the same night you got my crucifix, it seems. Honestly I thought you may have put them there."
Devyn gasped a laugh. "Put them there?" She huffed. "Don't you dare move, stay right there, I'm not done with you."
Sounded like she walked off but Troy couldn't move if he wanted to. He was still immobile with trauma from seeing her. No, from having tangible proof that she was exactly as he'd seen her in his dreams—delicate perfection. He fought off the image of her hard nipples with every ounce of his strength.
Troy was in the middle of praying his erection away when he heard her bare footsteps over linoleum. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she grabbed his arm and spun him around.
His air left him all at once at seeing she put a T-shirt on. Until his eyes landed on her nipples through the thin material. He clenched his eyes shut again.
"Cut the virgin act, seriously, surely you've seen breasts before, what with thongs hanging in your bathroom. Don't tell me you're like one of these closet Christian cross dressers. Oh my God, are you?"
Troy popped his eyes open. "Cross dress—wait, what? God, no, of course not!"
She swung the panties before his face, like a demonic pendulum, slender brows raised.
Troy pointed at them while looking at her. "I threw those in the trash three times."
She screwed her face up. "What? These? The ones I'm holding in my hands?"
How was he supposed to explain this? "Look. I know how bad this looks, but you have to believe me, the panties just keep showing up, no matter how many times I throw them out. I know how crazy that sounds, but it's true."
She dropped her arm, eyes narrowed.
He raised his brows and pointed at her neck. "What about my crucifix, huh? Have you ever taken it off? Maybe it's stalking you too? Like those damn panties of yours?" It was a long shot, but something was going on with the panties and his crucifix.
"What do you mean you threw them away three times?"
"I put. Them in the trash. Three times." He sliced the air for emphasis with a firm hand. "I woke up once and they were neatly on the pillow next to mine. I swear, this is really creeping me out, nothing like this has happened, and I worry—"
"Worry?" Devyn held the panties up again. "Why are you acting like they're demonic. They're my panties."
"I'm not saying your panties are demonic Devyn, I'm saying that the fact that they ended up in my pocket and then neatly on my pillow after I put them in the trash is not what I would call holy. Or Godly. I mean whatever is going on here is bad." He scrubbed his face.
Devyn burst out in snickers, covering her mouth.
Troy balked. "What is so funny?"
She shook her head and twirled the panties before him. Troy jerked away and she laughed more, taking a step toward him with the offending red silk. "So, what…" She continued forward, aiming the panties at him until his back hit the wall. "Are you seriously…afraid…of panties?"
"No! Not the panties, but what they stand for."
Devyn's brows shot up. "What they stand for?" She put a hand on her hip. "Do tell preacher. What do these red panties stand for?"
He swallowed at how great this wasn't going for him. "Just…it's not the panties, it's…it's that I'm celibate and they keep showing up and…"
"Sounds like a problem with you Troy, not these panties."
"No, it's not me. I'm a Godly man. I'm not interested in that…Devyn, please back up."
She stopped inches away and placed her hands on either side of the wall next to him. He met her gaze, determined to prove he wasn't like that. Wasn't interested in her looks or…her body or…any other parts of her-her temple. He willed his heart rate to slow the hell down while meeting the sultry look in her eyes. Ignoring the tilt of her seductive grin.
"No, it's not you," she whispered.
"Devyn." His breath stuck in his throat when she leaned forward just enough. Just exactly enough to graze his chest with her breasts. He pressed his hands into the wall behind him, unable to take his eyes from hers now, unable to not feel those two rigid tips against him.
"It's surely not you."
He gasped and clenched his eyes tight again as she pressed her body against him more.
"It's those slutty…" she slid her hands along his sides, "Sinful…" pressed herself into the hard evidence at his groin, "Red…" gripped his hips, "Panties." With her final whisper, she jerked him against her.
Oh God, oh God, oh God, couldn't let this happen, couldn't...
Troy hardened his jaw and opened his eyes. But the mocking look he'd expected to find in her gaze wasn't there. Mockery would've been so much better.
Confusion. Fear. Hope.
Jesus. Troy saw it so clearly. She needed him to want her. She needed to be wanted by something good. Everything she'd known had been bad.
God she was beautiful.
In a flash the need in her face morphed into anger and she stepped away from him. She threw the panties on the floor. "That's right, preacher." She reached up and jerked the crucifix off her neck. "It's the slut part that's all wrong." She threw the necklace at him. "It's me that's all wrong!"
Two steps put him exactly before her, holding her furious gaze, his breath labored. "It's not you," he whispered, reaching up and wiping the tears running down her face. He shook his head a little, his chest tight with the need to make her see. "It's not you."
The pain in her face intensified, trembling in her lips. "It's my life," she wailed, shaking her head. "I'm so ruined."
Troy took her face between his hands. Her eyes closed and fresh tears ran down her face. He leaned and kissed her forehead. "Shhh, I got you." He kissed her cheek softly then. "You're not ruined." Her soft sob warmed his face, fueling the need to make it all better. To erase every trace of pain in her broken life. He glided his lips along her face, tasting her.
Her trembling fingers stroked along his cheek, hesitant…hoping.
Troy slipped his arm around her waist and let his hand slide up her back, slowly, carefully. Her breath came unsteady and when he cradled her head in his hand, she let out a soft whimper.
Like the one from his dream.
The memory sent him to another dimension. He settled his other hand possessively on her lower back just as his lips found hers.
At the first contact, their breaths mingled, hard and erratic. Troy had never felt anything so amazing as her breath in his mouth. Except for her perfect breasts pressing into his chest. His fingers clenched in her hair and he pressed her hard to him, needing to feel all of her. She gasped and he took that moment to taste her, his tongue seeking as his lips pressed hers softly.
Devyn just stood there, letting him. It was suddenly more than meeting her need, it was meeting his. And God did he seem to have a lot. Go slow, go slow, slow down. His hands became dyslexic, sliding up and down her sides, eagerly feeling her shape, confirming the haunting fantasies that had plagued him. She was perfect. Her lips, all giving and submissive under his, were sweet and perfect.
Devyn's fingers slid into the hair at his neck, encouraging with light moans. Her mouth opened more and the feel of her eager tongue fueled his well buried hunger. Her hands slid down his back and ended on his butt, fingers digging into muscle as she stepped into him, causing him to step back until he met the wall. His own hands became desperate, feeling the curve of her butt, pulling her leg up. Getting her closer was all that mattered. Their moans turned hungrier and Troy's heart raced at where this was headed. He held her face, needing to break the kiss. "Devyn." The attempt to get her attention came across as begging for more, especially when his tongue continued to taste all he could reach. But God, she tasted amazing.
"Troy."
; Jesus, did she just whimper his name? Was she really stroking his abs under his shirt? If she didn't stop, he wouldn't be able to, he wouldn't care what he did or where. He couldn't let it be that way, not with her, never with her. Every man was fast with her, and he… he cared far too much for her to let that happen. In fact, the realization of just how much he cared startled him. The sudden importance of making sure everything was exactly right felt surreal, as if the rest of his life would be determined by how he handled the next few moments.
He grabbed her hands and held them tight, then broke the kiss. "Stop, please." He reminded himself to be careful.
She searched his face and Troy grabbed it between his hands at seeing the panic taking her.
"Not like this, Devyn, you're too…I'm not…I don't want to do this…not like this."
Confusion marked her brows. "What are you saying-I-I don't understand what that means." Troy held tight at feeling her try to get away. Her anger rose. "Not like this? You're not what? You don't what? Can't you just talk fucking English?"
Troy crushed her in a tight embrace and pressed his mouth to her ear. "You deserve better— roses, romance, love, time. I'm not going anywhere."
"It's really true, he's not." The deep, unfamiliar voice rumbled through the room.
They jumped and turned. "Oh God!" Troy shoved Devyn behind him, eyes darting around for more intruders. "Who the hell are you?"
The man sitting casually at the dining table grinned. "That would be who the Heaven."
"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus," Devyn whimpered, gripping Troy's shirt with both hands, peering around him.
In a panic, Troy took in the insanely odd man. Floor length shimmering ruby-red coat, hanging open over naked alabaster skin that nearly glowed, emphasizing the deeply defined musculature of his chest. Red jeans, apparently of the same material as the coat, hung low on narrow hips, not bothering to conceal the thin line of dark hair extending from just below his navel and disappearing under the waistband. Troy lowered his gaze to the white bare feet below the jeans' hem.