Not just physically, but who he was, inside and out. He was young, strong, kind...and oh my Lord, so innocent. I met him in church. He was sitting near the back, staring out the window and not really paying attention. He was the first person I saw when I walked in those chipped white doors with their faded brass handles. He was coiled into the pew, his knees drawn up, his back hunched, long fingers tapping his broad thighs. His messy black hair swept across his brow, covering one eye before he brushed it away absently with a thumb. I barely managed to avoid stumbling on a rip in the threadbare carpet when my heel caught. I was so busy taking in the absurd beauty of him that I just about fell flat on my face. He saw me, then, too, and I think the awe in his eyes is what did it for me. He looked at me like he'd never seen a woman before, he looked at me like a man in a desert looks at a wellspring. I'd never had anyone look at me like that, with a naked desire, unadorned wonder. The only open seat was at the aisle-end, one row up from him.
What do You think about The Preacher's Son #1: Unbound?
