Lust: A Forbidden Age Gap Romance (Purity Book 3)
Lust: Chapter 5

I’ve been trying my hardest to concentrate on my work. I’ve been banished to the abandoned hallway.

It’s not my imagination. He’s uncomfortable around me.

Why?

Maybe he doesn’t want me to fill in for Daisy. Maybe he thinks I’m too irresponsible. I know my dad constantly vents to him about what he perceives as my wild, party-girl ways, but I thought Brandon was too progressive to take those worries seriously. I party probably less than most college students, and I’ve always been safe when it comes to sex. I told Brandon as much the last time my dad asked him to talk to me.

Fuck Brandon for listening to my dad, if that’s what this really is. I got into one of the best history master’s programs in the whole country. He’s lucky to have me in this lowly volunteer position.

And I refuse to stay in my office of shame, especially if he’s trying to hide me from the rest of his staff. I need to get myself some coffee, and if I run into anyone on the way, I’ll be sure to strike up a watercooler conversation with them.

I march out of my office and into the lobby. The thermal coffee carafe is gone, but I know I saw it earlier. Damn it. Where is Harper? She looks near my age and would be the perfect person to chat with.

I walk to Brandon’s office and peek my head through the doorway. “Do you know if there’s any more coffee?”

He looks up from his computer, those piercing dark eyes locking onto mine. “I’m not sure. Harper usually handles that.”

He sounds annoyed, and I fight the urge to sneer. He’s no longer the CEO of a big gym franchise. This is the church, damn it, and he’s technically my pastor. He can be a little nicer.

I shift my weight. “Oh. Okay. I’ll just go ask her.”

Just as I start to turn around, he stands up from his desk. “I can make you some. I make it much stronger than Harper.”

His smile is warm, and it makes my head grow a little fuzzy. He’s so fucking gorgeous.

All this beauty wasted on a pastor.

No. I can’t think that way. It’s not fair to judge him when he’s truly good at what he does. I’m frustrated with my own family when it comes to religion, and I can’t let myself take it out on him.

He gestures for me to come into his office before disappearing, and I take the opportunity to scan his bookshelf. A huge stack of books and files sit at the corner. What is this?

I glance over my shoulder before reaching out and grabbing a book from the top of the stack. Damn. I think this is either Greek or Hebrew, probably ancient too. I knew he was educated, but I had no idea he could read the Bible in its original language.

“What are you reading?”

My cheeks warm, and I snap the book shut. When I look up, Brandon is standing next to me with two mugs in hand.

“I wasn’t actually.” I smile. “I don’t read Greek. Or Hebrew. I’m not sure which this is.”

His lips quirk as he hands me my coffee. “How did you know it was one of the two?”

I shrug, taking a sip. “I don’t. I was just guessing. I know the Bible was written in both. And some in Aramaic.”

He takes a sip of his own coffee. “You sure do know your history. It’s Greek, by the way.”

My head jerks up. “You can read Greek?”

He nods. “I have a master’s in divinity. Most programs teach Greek and Hebrew.”

I grin. “I’d love to learn another language. I mean, obviously you’ve heard me speak Spanish, but I’ve known that since birth. I would love to learn new languages throughout my lifetime. I feel like it would expand my mind and make me see the world differently.”

He grins. “You think language works that way?”

“I do. We think in words, so there’s no way it wouldn’t in some way shape the way we see the world. The world as we know it is basically just made up of our thoughts.”

His eyes are warm, crinkling at the edges. This is how he looked at me that night on the beach, and it made my stomach tie into knots then. It does the same now.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you became an atheist,” he says. “Your dad told me you drove him crazy growing up with all your questions.”

I force a smile, even as a coldness settles in my chest. I’m sure my dad seemed lighthearted when he told Brandon that, but had I been there, I would have picked up on that edge of irritation in his voice. He wouldn’t have had the warm smile that Brandon is giving me now. Maybe that’s why Brandon is such a good pastor. He’s not afraid of people who question God, which makes him a safe place.

“I sure did,” I say. “Enough that they eventually didn’t want to even try to answer them anymore. I spent a lot of time in our old pastor’s office.”

Brandon’s smile fades, and I brace myself for his pity. “Was your pastor able to answer your questions?”

I grin. “It was Pastor Dave from First Covenant.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He flinches ever so slightly, clearly not needing any more explanation. Dave was once his pastor too.

“Even as a kid, I knew his answers were bullshit. I once asked him to prove to me that God exists, and he said, ‘Just look around you. Could all this beauty exist without God?’” I grimace. “What kind of answer is that?”

Brandon’s gaze is intense and assessing, and my cheeks grow warm. With effort, I shoot him a cheeky smile. “What would you say? If a kid asked you that question, I mean.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I’d say I can’t prove that God exists.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s too easy.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then why do you believe in something with no evidence?” I gesture at the stack of books. “You’re an educated person. Doesn’t it bother you?”

His lips quirk. “Not really.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m much happier now than before I became a Christian. I don’t mind being wrong if it makes my life better.”

I scowl. “How? I don’t understand it. Livvy says the exact same thing. How can people be happy that way?” I shake my head. “And why has it never worked for me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Am I just a big know-it-all, and I have to be right all the time, even when it doesn’t matter?”

His eyes alight, and he looks like he’s repressing a smile. “I don’t know.”

My stomach flutters. It’s the look again. As if he’s amused with me.

No, delighted.

Fuck, I love talking to him about this stuff. I’ve never known a Christian who could debate with me philosophically without letting emotions get in the way. My dad can’t even do it, and he’s a damn lawyer. When I was a kid, he was a criminal defense attorney, and yet he seemed afraid of my questions. Fear seems to override reason with a certain type of Christian.

I love that Brandon is fearless. I love that he’s giving me this warm, beautiful smile that makes my stomach flutter.

I hope my giddiness isn’t written on my face. I don’t want to seem like a silly little girl. I want him to see how competent I am at this job.

“What’s with this big pile of books?” I ask, grasping for a change of subject.

Brandon’s eyes follow my gaze, clouding when they land on the stack. “Textbooks. Articles. Information I gathered in graduate school and after. I refer to them sometimes when I write my sermons. They used to be in my home office, but I spend so much more time here, so it didn’t make sense to keep them there anymore.”

I nod as my gaze roves over the stack. It must be nearly four feet tall. “It can’t be easy to replace what you need…”

“It isn’t. I’ve been meaning to organize it for weeks now. Instead, I just shift the piles around when I need something.”

“Why don’t I organize it for you?”

His expression shutters.” There’s no need.”

“It sounds like there is.”

“I don’t want to make you do something so tedious.”

“It wouldn’t be tedious at all. I’ll get to browse through the books while I figure out an organization system. For a history major, that’s like Christmas morning.”

When I grin, his jaw stiffens. Why does he seem irritated that I want to help out?

Ah. He thinks I won’t be able to do the job well.

“I’ll be right in front of you,” I say. “If I mess anything up, you’ll see it.”

His expression grows even grimmer.

“I won’t, though,” I add quickly. “But if I do, let me know. I don’t get my feelings hurt easily.”

He stares at me for a full five seconds before speaking. “Alright.”

Brandon

How did I not see myself walking right into that one?

She caught me off guard with her vulnerability about her struggles growing up. I found myself wanting to take her in my arms and comfort her.

That alone should have set off alarm bells in my mind. When have I ever had the desire to physically comfort her when she’s confided in me, or any other church member?

Never.

Now I’m trapped with her in my office for the foreseeable future. Her limber body moving around me, stretching to reach high shelves… Her scent washing over me when she brushes past me to grab a book…

Fucking fuck.

Where did this desire for her come from, and why is it only getting worse?

“Is everything okay?” she asks, her voice softer than before.

Heat rises to my cheeks. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just zoning out.”

She stares at me for a moment, biting that full bottom lip. The sight of it sends electricity into my gut.

“Do you need me to come back and work on this later?” she asks.

“No.”

I can do this. My end of day prayer meditation can be rescheduled to right the fuck now.

That way I can tune her out.

I grab my prayer request list from the top drawer of my desk and search for the last item I left off on. Ah, Nolan James. The troubled youth. His mom told me he’s an atheist, and she’s utterly beside herself.

Lord, I pray you’ll reach out to Nolan and replace him if you will it. If not, please help soothe the bumps in their relationship. Help him to not feel rejected by his family the way I sense Mariana feels rejected by hers…

She’s examining a book right now. That long neck of hers is curved. I sense that sadness even now. That sense of otherness. Rejection.

I wish I could hold her.

Our eyes meet, and she smiles dreamily. Do you want me? The words drift over me, echoing in my head and tightening my groin. Holy fuck. Did she really say that?

“I’m sorry, what?” My words are sharp.

She jerks back. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted me to create a master list?”

I blink. “A what?”

She frowns. “It’s like a key for all your texts. I can put the subject and author and where to replace them on your shelf.” She gestures with that long, beautiful arm.

I stand up quickly. “I need to go make a phone call.”

The widening of her eyes makes heat wash over my skin. I’m acting like a crazy person. But I have to get out of here. Now.