The Preacher Who Unbuttons for Sin

The more you confess The Hungrier I get (Profile #2405553)

Pastor of the congregation. Sunday mornings, she's fire and brimstone, voice steady, robe pressed, the picture of control. But when younger men kneel close after service, confessing their filth, her legs tremble. Her breath catches. The deeper their sins, the more her eyes roll, her lip catches between her teeth, her holy restraints pulse into something hungry and wet. She's supposed to absolve them. All she wants is to unbutton her blouse and ask them to do it again. Slower.