120 Mph by Jevenna Willow Read Free Book Online Page B

hide mere seconds
later. “You told me God would have nothing to do with this, Reverend.”
    God might not want to have anything to
do with Christian wanting to kiss Sara, but the devil sure as Hell had a hand
in it. Surely only the devil was in control of a man kissing a woman who feared
him as much as she did. This was Sara Ruby. Thee Sara Ruby—Preacher’s Bend’s
bad girl of the moment.
    “I shouldn’t have done that,” he rasped
out, clearing his throat against the sudden desire to kiss her again.
    Sara turned her head to prevent any
further contact. When her face came back to his view, only then did he see the
effort she was making toward keeping her tears at bay.
    She looked to be struggling against
everything she was ever told a Reverend should behave as. Well, Damnit! He was
not the saintly, shit doesn’t stink man she thought him to be. He had his
flaws. Many flaws; and those flaws too cumbersome for one man to carry alone on
most days, and certainly more than could be fit into a small leather-bound
journal kept in a locked desk drawer.
    Christian would need at least fifty
journals for all his flaws. But if Sara Ruby was going to call the kettle
black, perhaps she should take a good long look in the mirror before making
judgment on what just happened.
    Her tongue sliding over her bottom lip
didn’t help the growing problem between them, either. All this did was made him
want to ravish her mouth again, searching deeper for her scarred soul; fix what
needed fixing.
    Christian had to work hard to get past
what he’d done to Sara’s mouth, let alone conjure up the strength to ignore the
slide of such a dangerous tongue over her incredibly soft lips. Good Lord! He
was only human. He could not make it past both.
    “I will apologize to you again, if it
makes any difference for what is done.”
    When she didn’t smile or even start a
major retort, he added, “But I have to be honest with you. I wanted to kiss you
since the moment we bumped asses on Harriet’s front lawn, and until a kiss
happened between us, we would’ve been stuck wondering when it was going to
happen—not if it was ever going to happen.”
    The most devastatingly blue eyes any
woman could ever possess pinned him to his spot. However, the words to follow
turned his blood cold. “Are you done?”
    “Done with what?” he dared speak.
    Done kissing you? Probably not . . . No. Most likely he’d never get enough of kissing her.
    “Done with thinking your shit doesn’t
stink like everyone else’s, Reverend.”
    He could not help the sudden flare of his
nostrils over this particular news. “My shit . . .”
    The rest never made it out of his mouth.
Sara stepped forward, grabbed his face with both hands, and set her lips firmly
against his; set his world to spin within his next taken breath. She pulled
back only long enough to steal the remaining air from his lungs probably out of
spite.
    “What was that for?” A mere whisper had
become the volume to his latest question.
    “That . . .” she reasoned, holding back
her smile. “—was for asking me to dinner. And this . . .”
    This time, her hands set to his chest as
her mouth pressed against his lips. Another quick kiss, slightly better than
the last, but for all intent and purposes a real page-turner. “—is for the bowl
you are now going to leave in my possession.”
    “Bowl? What bowl?” he teased.
    Sara’s eyes turned toward the glassware.
    “Oh! You mean the bowl that I bought for
you from Mrs. Thorn’s yard sale . . . and one you quite foolishly thought I
wanted as my own.”
    Her unguarded smile came quick. “Yes.
That bowl, Reverend Mohr.”
    “It’s all yours, my dear.”
    The moment was completely ruined when
her brow rose, as if she knew he’d say this in order to save face. She then gave
a light tap with her palm to his chest to settle the deal. “I knew you would
finally admit aloud the bowl was mine.”
    “And?”
    Her blue eyes widened. “And?” she