He traveled quickly down to her collarbone, pushing her T-shirt up as he went.
He didn’t bother to take her top off—he’d already freed the parts of her he wanted. He groped and kneaded and teased until Debbie was panting.
And then his mouth replaced his hands.
Debbie’s hands went to his head, gripping handfuls of his hair. Soft, needy, sexy-as-hell noises filled his ears, and he went from straining uncomfortably against his jeans to nearly punching straight through them.
Heaving himself up over her, he took her mouth again, kissing her hard and fast.
Still wet from his mouth, her tits were in his hand; he palmed one and then the other before sliding his hand down her stomach toward her shorts.
He yanked open the top button.
“Preacher.” Debbie turned her head, freeing her mouth. “Preacher… wait.”
He continued fumbling with her shorts, pulling open two more buttons. Although he’d heard her, nothing had registered. His skin was too hot, his anger with The Judge was still simmering inside him. And his dick felt full to the point of bursting. He was sick of only wanting this girl—he wanted to have her.
Legs twisted beneath him, hands shoved at his shoulders. “Preacher, stop!”
Preacher froze and Debbie shoved at him again. He rolled off her onto his side as she scrambled to sit. Flushed and breathing hard, she wrenched her T-shirt down and quickly fixed her shorts.
“What’s wrong?” Preacher asked, unable to hear himself over the rapid roar of blood pumping through him.
Biting her bottom lip, refusing to look at him, Debbie only shook her head.
Irritation rose inside him, and Preacher had to fight to battle it back down, to remain calm. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his unbound hair and blew out a breath.
“I’m sorry,” he heard Debbie whisper. Her voice sounded small and timid, and Preacher heard real fear there. He blew out another breath, and with it, some of his frustration.
“It’s cool,” he muttered. “We don’t gotta do it.”
“It’s not that.” Debbie joined him at the door. “I do wanna do it. It was just…”
She trailed off and Preacher made the mistake of looking at her. Her hair was a mess, her lips wet and swollen. Her nipples were visible beneath her T-shirt, tiny torpedoes aimed straight at him. Inside his jeans his dick surged, the buildup of pressure quickly becoming uncomfortable. His hands began to twitch, suddenly desperate for something to do.
Grinding his teeth, Preacher moved quickly across the tent and opened the door. “You don’t gotta explain shit to me,” he managed to grit out as he fumbled to light a cigarette.
Staring out into the night, he puffed on his cigarette like his life depended on it, feeling like he might actually explode if he didn’t fuck…something.
Debbie’s hand appeared on his arm, her touch an electric surge to his already fried system. “I’m really sorry. I just got—I don’t know. It was, um—it was just too fast.” The hand on his arm began to quiver almost as much as her voice. “I don’t know—”
Preacher cut her off by shoving a cigarette between her lips. “Shh,” he growled, “and let me calm the fuck down.”
They smoked in silence. Preacher lit one cigarette after another until the mountain in his jeans was more of a semi-hard mound and his heartbeat had returned to normal.
When he eventually chanced another glance at Debbie, he found her with her arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees, nervously twisting a small silver ring around her finger. And now that he could think clearly, he felt like a first-class asshole.
“Wheels,” he said, sighing. “Look at me.”
Her big brown eyes lifted, full of riotous emotions that Preacher wasn’t going to begin to guess at.
“Whatever bullshit you got goin’ on inside that head of yours, it better not be because of me. I ain’t mad. You don’t gotta fuck me. Hell, you don’t even gotta talk to me and I’ll still get you to the city. A promise is a promise.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“After you get me to the city. Are you going to stay… or are you going back on the road?”
