Undeserving (Undeniable #5)(69)

"Jesus, Wheels, come here." He held out his arm to her, and she quickly tucked herself against him. She folded her knees to her chest, and he slid his arm around her back. Neither of them spoke for a long while, and he found himself marveling at how perfectly she fit beside him.

"I don't want you to disappear."

He glanced down to find Debbie's eyes on him-big, expressive eyes like vacuums, sucking all thoughts straight from him. Those eyes. That mouth. That vulnerable look on her face that made him want to tuck her inside his jacket and shield her from the world.

She was definitely a problem he wasn't accustomed to dealing with. On the one hand, he wanted to fuck her, and on the other, he wanted to save her. Were both possible? Or was one going to cancel out the other?

Cupping Debbie's cheek, Preacher ran the pad of his thumb over her lips. She stared up at him in a way that made him think that when his mother had told him Debbie was halfway in love with him, she hadn't been exaggerating.

It was a responsibility he wasn't quite sure he wanted and made him feel more than just a little uneasy. He could hardly fend for himself these days, let alone someone else.

But even as he thought it, it wasn't enough of a concern to deter his baser wants or to distract from the way he felt when he looked at her.

"Who are you?" he muttered. Then he kissed her, not bothering to wait for an answer.

If she didn't want to fuck, they didn't have to fuck. But Preacher still wanted his hands on her-blue balls be damned.





Chapter 22


The Four Points farmers' market was small but plentiful, with rows of tables piled high with baskets full of seasonal fruits and vegetables-apples, peaches, and raspberries, as well as corn, beans, beets, and more. The veritable rainbow of colors reminded Debbie of the local farmers' market back home-a much larger market that had been open all year round. She'd wasted entire days wandering the market, happily lost among the feast of colors and smells. 

And today was no different. Debbie strolled through the aisles, breathing in the crisp, fresh scents, returning the smiles of the men and women selling them. She took extra inhales when she came across a table laden with sugary baked goods and large loaves of fresh bread.

A short ways down the aisle, Debbie paused beside a table covered in short stacks of used books and ran a finger over a coverless copy of Anna Karenina, the book stained and torn. She found herself unexpectedly frowning-a frown that had nothing to do with the tragic love story beneath her fingertips and everything to do with Preacher.

Last night had been …  confusing at first. They'd been kissing, and that had felt amazing. And Preacher had been touching her, and she'd been touching him, and that had also felt amazing.

But then something unexpected had happened. Something ugly had wormed its way inside her happy haze. Only this time it hadn't been her past to darken her thoughts and fill her with unease. It had been her future.

Debbie hadn't ever factored someone like Preacher into her life. She especially hadn't considered all the feelings that had come with him. Turbulent, foreign feelings. Excitement and panic, sometimes to the point of fear. She felt as if her world had been rocked and then set on fire, but instead of burning her, the flames licking up and down her skin had left her soft and warm and utterly consumed.

I love him.

Those three words banged through her head like a gong, jarring and irrefutable. And completely ridiculous. She knew it was silly, and yet everything she was feeling told her otherwise. And what she was feeling? Oh my God. It was twice what she'd felt for him yesterday and triple the day before that. And she felt oddly hopeful, too. Hopeful in a way that made her chest ache. Hopeful in a way that scared her.

It had to be love.

What else could it be?

Moving away from the books, Debbie stopped in front of a table covered in large wicker baskets overflowing with large green apples. Allowing her backpack to slide down her arm, she casually flipped the top flap open. Leaning far over the table, pretending to browse the selection of apples, she covertly rolled one straight off the top of the pile and into her bag. She did this several more times before finally selecting an apple to pay for.

Biting into the fruit, Debbie glanced over her shoulder and found Preacher where she'd left him-leaning against a wooden pillar just outside the market, hands shoved inside his jeans pockets. Wearing head to toe black, his dark hair was pulled tightly away from his face, giving his already stone-hewn features even more of an edge. Beside him, Tiny was talking animatedly, oblivious that Preacher's attention was elsewhere.

Having just witnessed her shoplifting, Preacher was smirking as he pushed away from the pillar. Taking another bite of her apple, Debbie watched him approach, and by the time she swallowed, he was beside her, his arm around her shoulders, his head bent to hers. She breathed in deeply, smelling leather and smoke-and since he'd showered this morning, faint hints of soap.