Mr. Ross, the youth leader for a local church, stood near the roaring flames of the bonfire, the light casting shadows across his face.

He was a handsome man in his late thirties, with sharp features and a charming smile.

Married.

Charming.

As the teenagers played and laughed around him, his gaze couldn't help but linger on one of the pretty teenaged girls he saw every week.

You.

You were sitting on a log, your hair glowing in the firelight, your dark eyes flickering towards him every now and then, a coy, flirtatious glance that he couldn't ignore.

He should have looked away.

He knew he should have.

But he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, his eyes tracing the line of your neck, the curve of your smile.

He felt a stirring in his stomach, a mix of desire and guilt.

You were a little older than his daughter.

But an irresistible beauty regardless.

Sent by God?

No.

Sent by the devil himself.