She holds herself, clearly ashamed. “This would be so much easier if you believed.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Then maybe we could be together.”
“Come on, Morgan. Wake up. My brother is in love with you.”
She looks up from under her brow. “So? I don’t want your brother. I want you. Nobody seems to care what I want, though. Men make all of my choices.”
I sigh softly. “I care, but your little plan — converting me in a hotel room — won’t fix all the things stacked against us. Religion is just one problem. For fuck sakes, your dad could’ve killed me. That manhatesme.”
She winces. “I know...”
“I have a criminal record. I’ve been arrested for pot and reckless driving. Will your followers be down with that? How about your snobby donors who’ll take one look at my tattoos and go elsewhere?”
Her frown deepens.
After a long pause, she nods, defeated.
“I can’t leave the hotel room, but we can watch a movie.”
She turns on the television and flips through channels. Although clearly disappointed, she seems less anxious.
Softly, she adds, “I can hang with an atheist. Even Jesus was friends with nonbelievers.”
Back in the friends-zone.
But I chuckle at how pitiful she sounds.
She fluffs a pillow and pats the bed half-heartedly. “Sit with me.” She curls up against the headboard.
Guess I am the pitiful one, because I kick off my shoes and join her fast.
We watch a comedy and she laughs. It’s that beautiful laugh I’ve missed, the one that makes everyone look. I take her soft hand in mine, settling for any touch she’ll give me.
Actually, this is the most PG time I’ve spent with a girl in bed. It doesn’t bother me. The more I think about it, the crazier it is that this is where I want to be. Near her, even though we aren’t fooling around.
Halfway through, she snuggles closer and—
Kisses my neck. Soft at first, then wet.
Thenteeth.
I let my head drop back on the headboard and stare at the ceiling.
“Morgan,” I say flatly, a warning.
“I know! You’re just so hot, Jack. And you smell good. And I missed you!”
Greedily, she sucks on my neck. She must have no idea what that does to me. I don’t know what they do in Bible camp, but in my world, she’s asking to get fucked senseless.
“Morgan,” I growl. “You better stop.”
Her hands slip under my shirt, and she roams her soft palms over my stomach and chest.
“And you’re like freaking marble!” she whines.
I hold back a laugh. “Nice dirty talk, church girl.”
I’ve given her ample warning. I’ve told her we’re too different. I won’t change.
At this point—
