Fern splayed across Teague’s bed, her light red-brown hair spilling out behind her like a halo of fire. Teague crawled on top of her, gently, but very firmly pressing his lips to hers. She was chaste at first, Teague liked that. The tiny fight was half the fun.

He took his time, nibbling her ear, her neck, her shoulder. She wiggled a little beneath him and the golden crucifix around her neck sparkled in the light, the saints on the walls glaring down at him. Fern had been a bad girl, so he told her so. She shuddered in delight, coiling her fingers in his dark hair.

He came back up, pinning her to the sheets with his eyes.

“Tell me what to do,” she whispered into his ear.

“Lie back. The angels are watching,” he whispered back.

“You can hurt me. Do whatever you like.”

“Shut your mouth, girl. The angels are listening.” He pressed his tongue into her mouth as he pulled the underwear from beneath her red plaid skirt.

She gasped as he filled her, crossing herself as the ecstasy took over.