Whispered Southern Secrets (Magnolia Grove #11)

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Honey

I bang my head against the counter in Mimi’s Gasoline Grove. “Stop doing that,” Oliva tells me for the hundredth time.

“I can’t, Livy! I need to knock some sense into me. I can’t stop fantasizing about him. Sexual fantasies. I’m going to hell.”

Olivia scoffs. “Pfft. Might want to make a reservation because it’s going to packed if everyone who’s had a sexual fantasy about their boyfriend is going to hell. Do you hear yourself? Besides it didn’t bother you before.”

She’s seriously not getting it. “That’s because he was hot Air Force guy. Now he’s a man of God. You don’t push the devil’s doorbell while listening to your pastor.” Olivia bursts out laughing. “It’s not funny, Livy,” I speak through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t? In church?”

I place my hands in my palms. “No,” I groan. “I may or may not have uploaded the Sunday service on YouTube. And… I mean—you’ve heard his voice, right? Well while listening to him sing, I might’ve touched my happy button.”

“You twiddled yourself to him… ” She can’t even finish the sentence. Her hands cover her mouth as her eyes become teary. Yeah, me too. Only I’m crying for a different reason.

“I’ve got problems,” I confess.

“Yeah. Yeah, ya really do.”

“Do you think I’m not ashamed of this? I feel so dirty.”

“You are a dirty girl.”

“No. I have deep shame. Why does he have to be sexy? And his voice. Who makes a hymn sound so… ” A moan escapes me.

“Do I need to give you a moment.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” I quickly tell her.

She shakes her head. “No worries there. I couldn’t even repeat that if I tried. And I’m terrified now that I won’t be able to sit during a sermon with him without thinking about what you’ll be doing later.”

The following Sunday, J.D. is preaching, and the sermon is beautiful and relatable. I’m minding my own business in awe of how he always seems to find a way to make the scripture make sense, when my phone vibrates. I turn it over to see it’s a text from Olivia.

Livy : This should make for great material tonight.;)

That’s it. We’re both going to hell. J.D. is going to have to do something. Preferably me.

James has been discharged from the hospital and settled with his aunt a couple hours away. J.D. has missed him but still keeps checking in on him so that helps. I’ve been trying to give him some time. We’re still dating, and we’ve been taking it slow. So slow. So painfully slow. The man has barely touched or kissed me. He’s been the perfect southern gentleman. I appreciate and respect all of his efforts, and I’d probably not be so wound up if I didn’t know what he was capable of. I feel like a starving man who’s only being given kale to eat. It’s torture. And not satisfying. Not meeting all my needs. However things might be looking up. J.D. has purchased his own place. He asked my opinion on the house which touched my heart. I offered to cook for him once he was completely moved in. And tonight it’s happening.

J.D. assured me that it’d be fine to let Cash come over as well. I don’t feel right leaving him for my grandparents to look after. It could be a long night. Maybe all night. Who knows! Cash scampers around under my feet. If you offer him food or a treat he’s really great about allowing space. We’ll ignore the tiny tidbit that it’s only because he’s busy eating.

When I hear Cash bark at the window, my heart leaps into my throat. Then I hear J.D. walk in. I’m suddenly nervous but mixed with excitement. We are completely alone. Cash doesn’t count. Nobody could walk in and interrupt us. It’s silly because we’re both grown adults and we’ve already had sex—but that was three years ago. We’re in an official relationship now.

J.D.’s voice is playful and full of silliness as he fawns all over Cash. But when he walks through the doorway of the kitchen, he becomes serious. “It smells incredible in here. And you darlin’, are a vision that would bring any man to his knees.”

He steps up to me, going for his typical chaste kiss on the cheek, but I turn at the last second. The feel of his warm lips against mine sends a rush through me. I’ve never told J.D. but he has the most perfect thick lips. They taste of mint.

J.D. pulls away taken aback. “You kissed me,” he whispers.

“Yes. I’d like to do it again.” I want to say now shut up and bring those lips back to mine. But I don’t. I stand there, not so patiently, waiting for him to be the one to kiss me.

My prayers are answered. Right before our lips meet, I exhale through my nose in relief and release a sigh of sweet satisfaction. I balance on my tiptoes and turn my head for a better angle. Our bodies press together and my breath hitches. My hand threads through his hair as my tongue is finally granted access between his lips. He feels so good. The kiss is slow and deep, but over much too soon for my liking.

“Don’t stop,” I shamelessly beg.

“Yes. We’re not going any further than kissing.”

Come again. “Brother John David, if I may, you’re a preacher. Not a monk. Not a priest. Did you take a vow of celibacy that I’m unaware of?”

“No vows of celibacy. But I do intend that the next time I give myself completely to another person, it’ll be after we’ve made a commitment to one another before God.”

“I can make that commitment now. Isn’t God’s church everywhere? We don’t need all the bells and whistles. There’s only one whistle I’m trying to blow.”

“Honey. Get a hold of yourself.”

“I can’t! I have so much pent up frustration. I need you John David.”

“And I need you. I want you, Honey. I want to claim you every way a man can claim a woman. I want to lay with you in the biblical and worldly sense of the word.”

“Are you blackmailing me with sex to marry you?”

“No! I’m not blackmailing you. It’s actually something people practice. No sex before marriage.”

“You’re withholding something I want unless I do something you want. Sounds like blackmail.”

“Honey, you deserve to be treated with respect.”

Picking my words carefully, I say, “Respectfully, I’d like for you to be intimate with me.”

“I’d like for you to be intimate with me. I’ve been waiting for you to open up.”

“As in my legs?”

“No. As in we get to know one another better,” he says, quickly following it with, “Fully clothed. We talk and listen with no judgment. I know you’ve been hurt, Honey.”

“That’s all you need to know.”

“Is it? You’ll share your body with me, but not your heart.”

“You have my heart. I love you.” Said heart beats faster.

“I love you! But I want you to let me love you, fully. Let me in. Let me be your person who stands by you.”

“You don’t have to know my history for that. This is me. Right here.”

“Yes. You’re here. Holding back.” His pleading makes my already fractured heart crack the tiniest bit more.

“What are you afraid of? Why do you have to know everything? Worried that I have some seeded past? Am I not affectionate enough? Sorry I’m not planning our wedding already. Am I lacking in faith, romance, and our relationship?” I don’t even know what I’m rambling about. Everything hurts. I want to run away from all this. I refuse to sit here and be rejected if I don’t allow him to do a background check on me.

“It’s not that you lack faith in God, love, or even me. It’s your lack of faith in yourself.”

That does it. The last fragments of my heart shatters. He doesn’t know anything about me and already making assumptions. Judging me. Trying to psycho analyze my self-esteem. “I’m leaving.”

“I know people have let you down. And it hurts. It freaking hurts.”

“You know what? It’s called boundaries. And it’s healthy to have boundaries. You say you have respect for me, then respect my boundaries. I’m done talking about this.”

“Don’t walk away angry.”

“I’m past the point of angry.”

I grab my purse and charge past him. I make it two steps before I my shin hits something furry, there’s a yelp, and I’m free falling. The sound of my cheek and palms hitting the wooden floor echoes in my ears. The good news is I think my breasts took the brunt of the hit otherwise that would’ve been hurting severely worse.

J.D. is by my side tenderly helping me to my feet. “Darlin’ are you dizzy? Feel sick?”

“I don’t have a concussion. My pride took most of the fall.”

He leads me to the couch. Once I’m safely seated, probably so I can’t hurt myself anymore, he hurries to get me some ice. Sitting next to me, his ocean eyes study every inch of my face as he holds the ice pack to against my cheek.

“My boobs are throbbing, too. Wanna rub a few ice cubes across them?” I go as far as to even wink at him.

“Stop trying to seduce me.”

“I’d rather worship with you. Worship your body.”

“You’re relentless.”

Can’t blame anyone for trying. The man is devastatingly handsome with a voice that would make a nun consider sinning.

“How bad are you hurting?”

“I’m aching,” I pout.

“Stop.”

“Weeping.” I groan.

“Well if we’re back to you trying to get me to go against my morals, I guess that means you’re not mad at me anymore.”

“That’s right. I’m mad at you. Maybe I did get hit harder on the head than I thought.” Cash trots over and then leaps on top J.D.’s lap. I narrow my eyes at him. I swear he turns and smiles at me right before snuggles against J.D’s broad chest. “You tripped me on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Oh good grief. Honey. It was an accident. We’re lucky he wasn’t hurt.”

That little traitor. I rescued him, took him in, spent a fortune at the vet, and he has the nerve to take my boyfriend’s side. J.D. pets him and coos nonsense.

“Or maybe he,” he says in thought. “He stopped you from leaving so we could make up.” As if the four-legged con artist agrees, he licks J.D.’s hand. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

“Nobody in this room that’s for sure.”