Memphis processed that bit of information. He should be more afraid of Preacher. The man admitted to being an unrepentant killer. But he had rescued dogs and Memphis’s baby brother. Hell, he’d already rescued Memphis twice. Preacher was somehow both sinner and savior, and knowing that was doing things to Memphis on every level.
“Does it bother you?” Memphis asked.
“What?”
“Talking about prison. Do you feel like people judge you?” Memphis asked.
Preacher took another long swallow of his beer. “I don’t know a lot of people. I don’t care what strangers think. I’m doing better than most people who leave prison with a murder conviction. Hell, I walked out with a job, a roof over my head, and friends who have no interest in going back to jail. Most people don’t have that. All jail does for most is teach them how to be better criminals and give them a network of like-minded people to work with when they get out. The deck is stacked against them forever.”
Preacher set the swing in motion once more, and Memphis closed his eyes, letting the icy wind wash over him, hoping it would do something to cool down the semi hard-on tenting his joggers. When he opened them again, Preacher’s hand sat on his knee, and Memphis suddenly ached to know what it would feel like if it was on his knee instead. It was like Preacher had activated some long dead part of Memphis that had forsaken touch.
It had been a long time since he’d thought about sex or even kissing, but sitting there that close to Preacher, who felt so warm and smelled so good, it was hard not to lean in, put his head on his shoulder. He hated to admit it…but he missed being touched.
“I feel it, too, you know,” Preacher said.
“What?” Memphis muttered.
“This…connection. That’s what you were thinking about, right?”
“What?” he said again, his face somehow both hot and cold.
“You’ve been staring at my hand for a solid five minutes. You can hold it if you want.”
“You’re crazy. We don’t even know each other. Besides, my brother is right there.”
Preacher chuckled. “I said you could hold my hand, I didn’t ask you to ride me on the porch swing.” Preacher cut his eyes to Memphis. “Though, I can’t say I’d object if you did.”
Memphis’s whole body flushed, his nipples and cock hardening fast enough to make him dizzy. The thought of both of them naked on the porch swing, Preacher inside him. Fuck. “We don’t even know each other.”
Preacher angled his body towards Memphis, looking him in the eye. “What does that matter? Are you saying you don’t want me to kiss you right now?”
Memphis definitely wasn’t saying that. He was just…scared. Kissing led to more, and more led to being naked, and he didn’t know if he could do that. But he already had, a voice in his head argued. Preacher had seen his scars in the police station and was still right there beside him. There were no questions to be asked because Preacher already knew all his secrets. He’d blurted them out there, right in front of him. He swallowed. “No, I’m not saying that.”
Preacher leaned in and brushed his lips across Memphis’s in a barely-there kiss, but it was enough to set fire to Memphis’s insides. He grabbed the back of Preacher’s head and smashed their lips together, wincing as their teeth connected. Jesus, he was so bad at this.
Preacher pulled back, his smile almost feral, cupping Memphis’s face like he had in the hospital, before dipping his head once more. This kiss was deeper, more thorough, Preacher’s tongue slipping past the seam of his lips, massaging his tongue in a way that had Memphis moaning. Preacher tasted like beer and smelled like sex, and Memphis wanted more.
He didn’t stop to think, just wiggled himself into Preacher’s lap, forcing him to scoot over so he could straddle his thick thighs. Preacher’s hands cupped his ass, dragging him closer, and Memphis could feel how hard he was. Fuck. He was hard for Memphis, scars and all.
Preacher’s lips were soft and warm, and his scruff scratched at Memphis’s in a way he definitely didn’t hate. Memphis had missed this. Making out. A man’s hands roaming his body, desperate for his touch, his kisses, his hands.
This time, it was Memphis who cupped Preacher’s face, controlling the kiss, rolling his hips so his cock could work against Preacher’s, which was hard and thick behind the zipper of his jeans. Fuck, had he been hard that whole time they were sitting there? It seemed impossible to think Preacher wanted him as badly as he wanted Preacher. But he seemed very much okay with Memphis taking charge of the situation, and that made Memphis stop thinking for a little while. Until Preacher’s hands slid under Memphis’s borrowed t-shirt, fingers trailing over his scars.
Memphis gripped his wrists, trying to pull them away. “Don’t.”
Preacher frowned. “Why?”
Memphis slid free of Preacher’s lap. “Thanks for the beer. I’m…I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll take the couch.”
He didn’t wait to see if Preacher would respond, just escaped back inside, feeling like an idiot. Preacher hadn’t cared about his scars, so why couldn’t he just get over it already? He shook his head, disgusted with himself.
Sleep. He just needed sleep. It had been a long day. Fooling around with Preacher was a mistake.
One that Memphis wouldn’t make again.
Preacher didn’t follow Memphis. He just sat swinging in the cold, goosebumps rising on his skin, watching the fire as it died down. He should feel bad about kissing Memphis. The last thing Preacher needed in his life was the responsibility of Memphis’s fragile heart. He was just starting to get his own life back together. He had a good thing there. He liked working with his hands, building things, helping Cy out with the animals, having his own space where there wasn’t somebody watching him piss or shower.
Still, kissing Memphis was like the first breath of air he’d taken as a free man. He’d been so sweet, so hungry when he’d returned Preacher’s kiss, his hands clinging to his shirt, moaning into Preacher’s mouth, like he was desperate for his touch. When Memphis had climbed into Preacher’s lap, he’d been shocked but more than willing to go along with anything he wanted, even with Knox sleeping close by. Preacher supposed that said something about his judgment when it came to children.
