Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [26]
"Hmmm, don't tell me you're afraid that Miss Saphronia will get me good. Now, why would you be worrying about something like that?"
She looked away from him, thoroughly embarrassed, and started to stammer. "Uhh . . ."
"What's wrong, Essie? Cat got your tongue?" He was thoroughly amused that this tough-talking, knife-waving jook joint cook would almost gag over telling him that she was jealous that he was spending time with Saphronia McComb. He couldn't resist continuing to tease her. "Why won't you answer me, Essie Lee Lane?"
Essie looked like she wanted to crawl under the table. This woman was definitely an original, he thought—cute, sexy, prim, proper, honest, smart, irritating, and funny, very, very funny. It had been a long time since he'd met a woman who tickled him as much as Essie Lane did. He watched her for a few more seconds and thought he should give her some assurance.
"Well, just so you know, I've never been too partial to the Saphronias of this world. They can really work your nerves when they want to."
Essie was annoyed with herself for sighing with relief. As much as she hated to admit it, she really liked Theophilus. She sneaked another peek at him, trying not to stare at his long legs and the biceps that kept bulging against the short sleeves of his black cotton clerical shirt every time he moved his arms.
Theophilus pretended that he didn't know Essie was checking him out, simply delighted that she was so attracted to him. But the longer he sat there trying not to watch her watching him, the harder it became for him to stay in his chair and not snatch her up in his arms.
Essie was feeling fidgety herself. His eyes were so intense, she felt heat radiating from them. She resisted an urge to fan her face and, to break the heat, got up to put her empty glass in the sink. Looking around for something else to do, she spotted his empty glass sitting on the table, picked it up and rinsed it out, over and over again, hoping to avoid his eyes and to relieve some of the tension that had been building between the two of them ever since he walked into the kitchen.
Theophilus looked at Essie's shapely hips and thought how perfect her behind was. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining wrapping his hands around her hips, the mere thought heating him up so much that he could no longer bear to sit in his chair. And before he had a chance to think, he had gotten up and stood right behind her at the kitchen sink.
Essie could hardly bear the sensation of Theophilus standing over her. She started to move but stopped when he placed his hands on each side of her, with his palms resting on the rim of the sink, and leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. She trembled from the exquisite warmth of that kiss and then held herself stiff to resist the irrepressible desire to lean back into this sexy, good-smelling man.
Theophilus had hoped the kiss would ease the emotions running every which way inside of him. But it only made him want more. He turned Essie around to face him and cupped her heart-shaped face gently in both his hands.
Essie thought she would melt when she felt his warm palms on her cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his fingertips massaging the nape of her neck as he gently kissed her lips. She felt that kiss like a charge running through her body. Never in a million years could she have imagined being so ignited by a kiss—especially a kiss from a man who was a preacher.
Theophilus now drew a deep breath, kissing the corner of her mouth and whispering in a low, sensuous voice, "Essie Lane, Essie Lane," before enfolding her in his arms.
Essie's own arms, of their own accord, wrapped around Theophilus. With her palms just above his waist, she unconsciously caressed the hard muscles in his back through his clerical shirt.
At Essie's touch, Theophilus felt his temperature shoot up. Almost against his will, he pressed her to the sink and kissed her slowly, smoothly, forcefully.
For a moment, Essie